Left Behind by a Winchester

2

My vision was blurry, my memories hazy but my fury and regret still burned as strong as ever. I stood up. My moves were slow yet fierce, and I wobbled on every step, but denied myself the option to pass out again.

My wrists were free from the shackles that had tied me down for days, weeks, months, eternities. The thing, my torturer, my slice of hell lay next to me, perhaps two feet away, soulless eyes rolled into the back of its head and its twisted grin still plastered on its lips.

"Hello?" I called out. I noticed my feet were wet, and I looked down to see the puddle of blood spreading itself across the floor. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror across the room, bruises on my head, my eyes strained and dried blood on my clothes and my skin. I felt the urge to throw up but forced myself to keep walking.

My bare feet made wet noises everytime they collided with the floor. The dull grey walls towered over me and the sensation of fear and feeling lost hit me lit a bullet. I stumbled and struggled to breathe, my hands desperate for something to hold on to.

I couldn't stop here. Not when I've acquired such a taste for freedom.

"Hello?" A voice! A beacon of hope in the neverending sea of impossibilities. A bright yellow in a pitch black tunnel. I could barely register the words into my mind enough to understand them, and couldn't recognise who the voice belonged to.

I gagged and coughed, and squeaked out a small, "I feel sick", before I silently threw up, the sickly green of the vomit bright against the white concrete.

I looked around for the voice. I saw a figure in the distance, underneath a flickering light. I moved closer with caution; everything about this screamed trap. She stood up with her back arched, her eyes dark and hollow staring at me. Her body was slanted to the right, her shoulders uneven and she was so skinny I could see her ribs popping out of her shirt. She looked crooked and inhumanly disfigured.

It took me a second to realise that I was staring at a corpse that was hung from the ceiling.

I quivered and screamed at the top of my lungs. A strong hand grabbed my waist.

I fell to the ground. I'd let them take me again.

But the thing picked me up and carried me in its arms. It was warmer than the others, with green eyes like sparkles. I closed my eyes and squeezed them, trying to block out the pain.

"Who..." I tried to whisper.

Even with my eyes closed I could feel the yellow sun burn my face. Were we outside?

Was I saved?

"Sam," a voice ripped me out of my half dead state. It- no, he held me closer to his chest. I sobbed into his arm.

"Sam Winchester."