Ward (A Destiel Fan Fiction)

"New Home"

The officer stares down at me with a stern face, shaking his head while reaching for his cuffs. I don't fight him. There's no point.

He slaps the cuffs on me and leads me to his car that's parked across the street. He was probably speed checking when he saw me beating up that "defenseless" girl in the parking lot.

The man holds my head down as I get into the car. He hasn't said a word to me yet. He mostly just looks disappointed.

Wordlessly, he pulls out of his spot and turns down the street we came from. As we're driving past the library I can see a crowd forming around the woman. Two other officers help her up from the ground. Our eyes lock for an instant as we roll past. I can see see many things in her eyes at that moment. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt. Disgust. But there is one thing I do not see in her eyes that makes my stomach drop through the floor. Black. Her eyes are no longer black. Even from the distance we are driving from, I can see her blue eyes clear as day.

* * * * *

The air that rushes at me as we walk through the doors of the mental ward is cold to say the least. It's practically bone-chilling. The same officer that arrested me two days ago leads me, by my elbow, down these fluorescent halls. Said something about "wanting to make sure I was okay" or some bullshit. Truth is, he probably just doesn't trust me. Unstable. Violent tendencies. Just a few words I caught a glimpse of as we left the psychiatrist that was assigned to me. I had to sleep two nights in an actual holding cell. It was torture. At least it should have been, but I couldn't find the strength to care.

I'm just so tired.

My mom is in a coma. My dad is convinced I'm schizo. And now I've assaulted a (harmless??) librarian. My life has gone to shit and I couldn't care less. It's a lot easier to just believe I've gone mad than try to rationalize all of the stupid shit I've done.

The officer, whose name I still don't know, drops me off in the cafeteria/common room while he goes to speak with the warden. He gives me a weak smile before heading off. As soon as he's out of sight I quickly survey my surroundings. There's a group of about 5 old people at a corner table eating pudding. Well except none of them are actually eating the pudding, just staring in various directions, looking lost.

I sigh for them, those poor old souls.

The rest of the room is filled with various ages of teenagers, the youngest looking about 11. There are a few middle-aged women in the mix too.

I'm trying my hardest to study each of their faces because, after all, this will be my new home for who knows how long. I've looked over almost every inch of the room when the door to the kitchen swings open and a worker strolls through, walking backwards with a rolling trashcan in tow. The worker swings the trashcan around and starts walking forward. I can actually see his face now. He's very handsome and he looks to be around my age. I wonder what he's doing spending his time working around a bunch of nut jobs when he could just go apply at some fast food chain. I know he would get hired immediately for his killer smile that he's flashing as he walks by. God, if looks could kill.