Through Eyes of Insanity//Dean Winchester

3.0

E M I L Y

"I had a dream last night"

"What happened?"

"This man, he was standing in front of me..I-I know him. Or-it felt like I knew him. He-he was scared--worried, about something."

"Did this man say anything to you?"

"He told me- he told me to hang on, because they were going to find me."

Everyday that passed, the things around me seemed to fade away. Drifting farther and farther, as if they were slowly being forgotten. Washed out, cracked, and no one else seemed to notice.

"What happened to the swing?"

"What swing?"

"The one over there--the tire swing that we hung under the tree."

Worried eyes met my own, studying me, as if I were the one breaking.

"Emily, there was never a swing there."

I couldn't understand what was happening, no matter what they said. No matter what medicines were pumped into me, something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Even the dreams, once so life-like and vivid were fading. The features I had grown accustomed to, slowly wiping away as if they never existed. I felt myself desperately grasping at the last threads of sanity and calm, but they to were being violently ripped from my grasp.

Then he was before me, soft green eyes--so much like my own--anchoring me in place. He spoke, but the words were muffled. His hands, which were placed firmly on my shoulders, started fading.

"No," I whispered, hands vainly reaching to grasp the man, the man that I knew, the man that somehow knew me, the real me. But he too faded slowly away until all that was left was the sound of his voice echoing in my ears.

"Don't give up."