Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

e i g h t y

"Sometimes I think about you
And all of the things that you put me through
And I hate every single memory
Sincerely yours, from Hell with love"
From Hell With Love - Ryan Caraveo 

Amara hadn't slept well in days. The sense of something lurking in the shadows, the whispers, the Bible from her childhood—everything seemed to weigh on her, pressing down like an unbearable burden. She felt like her past was closing in, suffocating her, even in the one place she had always felt safe.

The brothers had noticed. She could tell by the way they watched her, more protective than usual, constantly hovering, ready to step in at a moment's notice. But she hadn't told them everything. Not yet. And she didn't know how to explain that the memories were becoming more than just echoes in her mind—they were starting to manifest in the bunker.

It started small. A photograph of her family appeared on her dresser one morning—one that she hadn't seen since she left. Then there was the old wooden rosary, another relic from her mother's room, lying on the table in the library when she came in one day. Every time something appeared, the pit in her stomach deepened, the fear clawing at her insides.

And then she started sleepwalking.

At first, she hadn't realised it. She would wake up feeling disoriented, standing in a different part of the bunker than where she had fallen asleep. Once, she found herself in the library again, staring blankly at the Bible, which was now closed, sitting innocently on the shelf as if nothing had ever happened.

But the worst night was when Sam found her.

She had fallen asleep in her own room, wrapped in the safety of her blankets, trying to calm her mind enough to get some rest. But somewhere in the early hours of the morning, she had drifted into another restless sleep, her mind swirling with old prayers and shadows of her past.

Sam had been up late researching in the main room, when he heard soft footsteps echoing through the hall. At first, he hadn't thought much of it, assuming Dean was on one of his late-night snack runs. But when he turned the corner, he saw Amara, eyes half-open, wandering the halls barefoot and mumbling something under her breath.

"Amara?" Sam called softly, his voice full of concern.

She didn't respond. Instead, she kept walking, her movements slow and unsteady, like she was in a trance.

Sam stepped closer, his heart racing as he reached out to touch her arm. "Amara?"

The moment his hand made contact with her skin, Amara jolted awake, gasping for breath as if she'd just surfaced from drowning. Her eyes widened, and she looked around in confusion, realising she was standing in the middle of the hallway, far from her room.

"Sam?" Her voice was shaky, her hands trembling. "What... what happened?"

Sam's brow furrowed, his concern deepening. "You were sleepwalking. Do you remember anything?"

Amara shook her head, the fear gnawing at her. "No... I don't. I—I don't understand why this is happening."

Sam gently guided her back to the main room, sitting her down on the couch as she tried to catch her breath. "This isn't the first time, is it?" he asked softly, watching her closely.

Amara hesitated, then shook her head. "No... I've been waking up in strange places. It's like... I'm being pulled somewhere, but I don't know why."

Sam's expression darkened. "We need to talk to Dean."

Amara's chest tightened. She didn't want to drag them into this more than she already had, but the situation was spiralling out of control. She was losing sleep, and now she wasn't even safe in her own mind.