LILITH | DEAN WINCHESTER [ ✓ ]

30. just in bello

◖𓈈﹗ ﹙ chapter thirty ﹚
❛ ▬▬ just in bello . . . ❜

November 14, 1990

A thunderous storm raged on in the long night of Massachusetts, Cambridge. The rain pelted the rooftops, assaulting the cold solitude with loud and shrill sounds that startled more than one person. The wind roamed around, shaking the branches of the trees and the frail sheds, already having knocked down a few tiles and broken one of Mrs. Maud's yellow-tinted porcelain flowerpots in the garden. The shadows of the deep night wandered until they projected themselves onto the window of a little five-year-old girl who had just woken up because of the storm.

Her tiny body began to sink into the silence of her room, lost in the gloomiest darkness of her drenched quarters, barely illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the folds of the curtain. The girl's muscles froze one after another, every inch of her skin contracted, pressing itself against the mattress, hiding from the storm and the shadows. She was terrified. A powerful whitish light blinked at the window, casting new silhouettes that, to the eyes of a child, called forth the monsters that Sam Winchester had told her so much about. And a few seconds later, the sound of thunder jolted every sense of the girl, who hid beneath the sheets with her heart pounding and tears welling up on her rosy cheek. Paralyzed with fear, the rain and wind beat against her mind, projecting vivid images of past nightmares—the monster coming out of the closet or the one lurking under the bed. Lilith had left them candies to eat before she devoured them, but at that moment, it seemed like the stupidest idea.

She wanted her mommy.

She wanted to scream her name, but she couldn't.

"Mummy," she murmured with a sighing voice, broken and trembling, her face flushed with the heat brought by the anguish of darkness. She wanted to shout, to call out in tears for her mother to come and rescue her, but her attempt was obstructed by the fear that the monsters would hear her and drag her out of her bed.

She clung to her Simba plush toy, crying in silence. The knuckles of her small hands began to turn an ugly shade of white, and along with her fingers, the force with which she clutched the blankets was causing her pain. Nevertheless, the girl remained trapped in the grip of the storm, the scratches on her window, the rain trickling down her head, and the lightning bruising her ears. It only took a few minutes for her silent sobbing to drown her nose in mucus, leaving her with no choice but to breathe through her mouth. Where was her mommy? Suddenly, she heard a door opening. Was it the bathroom door? The closet door? Which door?