Troubles And Teachers (Wincest AU)

Where Am I? On The Floor

          ((trigger warning.. aka don't hate me))

          For the next week, I used the vacation days I had neglected, and let another teacher fill in for me at school. After the confrontation or whatever Dean and I had, I got sick and was not feeling any better. My nightmares that had been at peace for a while returned almost every night, no matter how many sleeping pills I took. Dean hadn't bothered to call, or even come over. I called him over and over one night after a particularly bad nightmare, but he never answered.

          Gabriel had come over though, with a bunch of hand-made get well cards from his students and from mine, and a cheap teddy bear he probably got at a gas station. "Gotta take care of my Samwich," he had said with a wink. I had laughed genuinely, and gave him a hug when he left. He seemed really happy about that.

          The snake of emotion that usually took its place in my stomach had slithered up to my chest and now squeezed my heart within my ribcage, making it ache and throb in pain. Sometimes I just let it take over and I would lay in bed and stare blankly at my ceiling fan.

          Sammy .....

          I looked from where I was staring at the wall to the bathroom, where I thought I heard a voice whisper.

          Sam.

          Too tired to be frightened, I merely opened the door and flipped the light switch up. The lightbulb was strangely blue. A weird static noise that reminded me of a TV came from the showerhead. "Mom?" I whispered. Sammy ...

          My hands moved without my permission to the cabinet under the sink. They grabbed the bag of disposable razors. I stared at them for a long time, then out them to use.

          It's my fault.

          It was dark in the house, the only light coming from the TV. The screen was pure blue, and it gave an eerie, washed out look to the living room as I walked down the stairs in my spaceship pajamas.

          "Mom? Dad?" I called softly.

          I hopped off the last step and landed on something wet in the carpet. Confused, I looked down at my feet. The blue light from the TV discolored it a bit, but oozing between my little toes was dark crimson blood. My chest became tight and it suddenly became hard to breathe. "Momma! Dad! Where are you?!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face.

          "Sam ..." a weak voice said to my left. I slowly turned towards it and my stomach twisted into a sick knot. "Sammy ...." a creature that resembled my mother reached out with its bloody hand. Its eyes were desperate and teary.

          "NO!" I ran my mother's side and tried to stop the bleeding from various wounds on her body. "Mom, Momma ....." I whimpered. She smiled a bloody smile. "My little Sam," she murmured. She continued to gaze at me fondly until her eyes turned cloudy and blank, 'til her hand dropped from my cheek.

          Tears rolled down my cheeks in fat, ugly blobs. "Mom, please wake up! Please!" I cried as I shook her shoulders.

          Suddenly and with a loud crack, the front door burst open and a man with a gun stormed in, looking serious. "Help me!" I yelled at him, still holding onto my mother. He froze when he saw her, then rushed to my side.

          After examining Mom, the man sighed and shook his head. His ebony curls fell onto his forehead as he regarded me with steely hazel eyes. "She's dead, son. I'm sorry," he said with a grimace. Then he got up and started searching the house for whatever reason. I choked on a sob and hugged my mother tight. Maybe if I hugged her, she'd love me enough to come back.

          When I awoke on the bathroom floor, my vision was fuzzy and unfocused. Scarlet painted my forearms, and now that I was conscious, I was aware of the sting.

          I heard the shattering of my mother's vase, felt the harsh fire of the belt and the blunt agony of the baseball bat, heard my father's snarls and insults. For six years after my mother's death, I endured his constant abuse. After that, one of the neighbors reported to DHS and I was taken away, only to be put in an equally as terrible foster home.

          At the age of sixteen, I went in front of the court to be recognized as a legal adult and be allowed to live on my own, and my motion was granted. I was somehow able to scrape through highschool and claw my way to college.

          Now I was here. Lying pathetically on the bathroom floor with my blood slowly gushing out of me.

((A/N))

......Sorry not sorry??? Don't hate me??? lOVe YoU gUYS???? OveR aNd OUt?????

Trin ✖⭕✖⭕