Trouble With The Trickster || Gabriel - Supernatural

Prologue

Just a quick lil message - if anyone's interested in Marvel then maybe you could check out my new Bucky Barnes fic 'Therapy'. It's on my profile thing and I'm so proud of it. 

Anyway, onto the story~
I lay awake, staring into the darkness of my room. The shadows seemed to dance in the light of the candle on my bedside table, sparking terrible nightmares behind my eyelids and allowing my imagination to run wild like the huge dogs in my mind. I was scared; terrified to close my eyes for the fear of the creatures that lurked beneath my bed and in my closet.No one had ever believed they were real. They said that I was imagining things; that I should just go to bed, close my eyes, forget about the monsters, but they were frighteningly real and they taunted me when the lights were out...

My mother had finally given in and allowed the candle in my room despite my father's arguments about it being a fire risk. I would have been grateful for the light source but it made the nightmares worse, sending shadows creeping across the walls, getting closer and closer every night.

Only I could see them; the huge black beasts who lived in my room. Even when I pointed them out to my parents, they seemed to look straight through them, dismissing their existence as they growled at the foot of my bed. They always seemed to bay for my blood...

I could hear them growling as I lay there, wincing as one of them dug their claws into my forearm - no doubt drawing blood. When my mother had seen the wounds, she was horrified but for all the wrong reasons; she swore they were self-inflicted, lectured me on how 'I had a perfect life', took me to multiple psychiatrists. After the third one, I began to realise there was no use telling them the truth - they would never believe me, only give me more medication - so I played along, accepted anti-depressants and let my mother win.

And yet the dogs still came that night...

As the clawed abuse continued, she still refused to believe the truth and I was sent away to a special hospital where I was instructed to 'get better and be normal' upon arrival. Over the two weeks I was there, I slept the most I had ever slept in fifteen years; the beasts were confined to my bedroom it seemed, they couldn't touch me there.

Of course, this sleeping signalled to to doctors that I was recovering. My mother had convinced them that I was self-harming and, as I had shown no signs of that, they figured I was over it. I returned home - to the hellish reality of my own bedroom - within two days.

And so the onslaught of pain and nightmares continued and, since my absence had angered the many beasts in my room, the pain was far worse - they hadn't enjoyed being without their chew toy for so many nights. I often pitied them although I knew I shouldn't; what would their lives have become without me?

The weeks went on, my mother and father growing more afraid of me by the day as my skin became flayed and bloody overnight despite being bandaged the previous evening. They couldn't find an excuse for it any more and that made them scared - the cuts still appeared even when they stripped the room bare and locked the door but they still refused to believe my pleas about the monsters.

Then, they gave up. One day, they just broke down, refused to speak about it anymore and decided to try to overlook it and act like a normal family. They made me wear long sleeves in public, knowing how much they burned my skin; if anyone asked why I looked so tired and sad, I was to say that the family pet had passed away. No one ever questioned the amount of dead pets I had...

That was where my parents failed - trying to make me normal. If only I knew then what I know now... if only the winged man had appeared in my room sooner... if only I'd known I could never be normal...

So I tried my best to be normal, laughing with other people at school, doing 'normal teenager things'. I was a seventeen-year-old girl, afraid of the creatures under her bed, who self-harmed for no apparent reason - at least, that's how they saw me.

So there I lay, awake and afraid in the darkness of my room, watching the shadows dance and feeling claws drag down my arm.

Then the light came.