Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

e i g h t y - t h r e e

"I'm bigger than my body
I'm colder than this home
I'm meaner than my demons
I'm bigger than these bones"
Control - Halsey 

As Amara stepped inside the house, a familiar chill washed over her. It wasn't just the cold air or the creaking wood beneath her feet—it was the weight of her past, heavy and oppressive, pressing down on her like it had all those years ago. Sam and Dean followed closely behind, their presence a quiet but firm reminder that she wasn't alone this time.

The house hadn't changed much. It still smelled faintly of old wood and dust, and the furniture, though worn, was arranged just as it had been before she left. Every corner of the room felt soaked in memories—some of them good, but most of them dark, suffocating.

Her father closed the door behind them, the soft click of the latch echoing in the silence. He stood there for a moment, staring at her, his eyes full of regret and something else—something that twisted her stomach in knots.

"Evange—Amara..." he began, his voice quiet and rough, as though it had aged along with him. "I didn't think... I never thought I'd see you again."

Amara's heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her expression steady, refusing to let herself be pulled into his guilt. She could feel it—the weight of his emotions radiating off him in waves, thick and suffocating. Her abilities had grown stronger in recent days, and now, standing here in this house, she could see them clearly. His guilt, his regret, his shame—they swirled around him like a dark cloud, almost tangible in the dim light.

Sam and Dean stood on either side of her, watching silently, their eyes flicking between her and her father. The tension in the room was thick, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the old light fixture overhead.

"I'm sorry," her father said, his voice cracking slightly as he stepped closer, his hands trembling at his sides. "For everything. For what we did to you. I... I didn't stop it. I didn't protect you."

Amara's chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. She had imagined this moment a thousand times, the moment her father would finally admit to what they had done. But now, standing here, hearing the words from his lips—it didn't feel like enough.

"I was just a child," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her anger, her sadness. "I was terrified. And you—you let it happen. You stood by while she... while they tried to 'fix' me."

Her father's face crumpled, the shame in his eyes growing more intense, swirling around him like a storm. "I didn't know what to do," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I thought... I thought we were doing the right thing."

Amara shook her head, her hands trembling as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "The right thing?" She repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "You let them tie me down, force me into those baths, those exorcisms. You let them tell me I was cursed. You let them turn me into something I wasn't."

The lights overhead flickered for a brief moment, the soft hum growing louder as if the house itself was reacting to the tension. Amara's heart pounded, but she didn't back down. She wasn't that scared little girl anymore.

"I'm not that girl anymore," she said, her voice growing stronger as she took a step forward, her eyes locked on her father's. "I'm not weak. I'm not cursed. I'm stronger than you ever knew."

Her father opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to die in his throat. Amara could see the desperation in his eyes, the way his emotions twisted and churned, full of regret and guilt that was almost suffocating. He wanted forgiveness. He wanted her to absolve him of the sins he had committed, the sins he had allowed.