Pieces Of Me {Sam Winchester}

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Josie ran.

She ran and she ran and she run, until her lungs felt like collapsing and her legs felt like jelly and the only reason they could still move was because they had a rhythm and if they stopped moving she'd surely collapse.

But, finally, Josie keeled over. Her foot caught on a rock, and she tripped, and her legs were so tired that she couldn't recover, and she went down on the asphalt she'd been running across.

She stayed that way for a long time, sprawled cheek-down on the road.

When she finally had the energy to pull herself up, she felt the effects of her fall--and the running--instantly. Her limbs ached and her lungs spasmed, seemingly surprised at being able to take in air again. Her knees and elbows stung, the skin scraped off.

It was then that she noticed the other various scratches covering her body, from jumping out the window and landing in the rose bush. It was mostly just minor lacerations that would be healed within two days, but there were a few places that Josie thought might be wise to stitch up--a long gash going up the underside of her forearm, a deep cut in the side of her calf, and a particularly painful place right below her left rib where she noticed a piece of glass sticking out. She grabbed the glass, and, fighting back a cry of pain, pulled it out of her skin. Thankfully it was only about two of three inches in, so it didn't do as much damage as it could have.

Josie spent a few more minutes extracting pieces of broken glass from under her skin. There were only a few large chunks, and she threw them in the middle of the road, covered in blood. Then she pulled herself upright, and started trekking forward.

That was the only way to go now.

Forward.

But what exactly was forward?

•••

Josie walked on until the sun started to rise and cars started passing by. She felt the eyes of the people in the cars following her, but she ignored them. She didn't need their concern, and she certainly didn't need their pity.

When Josie realized she was walking through a town, she veered into the first secondhand shop she spotted.

"Hi!" she called into it. "Do you have a bathroom?"

The girl working the counter, with chocolate skin and green dreads, pointed in the back. Josie thanked her and headed inside, ignoring the obvious alarm on the girl's face.

She spent some time in the bathroom, washing off the blood on her body in the sink. Most of it was dried and brown now, so when she ran water over it it flaked off and the flakes swirled down the sink drain.

Then she ran her head under the sink, scrubbing dried blood out of her hair and pulling out twigs and branches that where stuck there. When she finished, she pulled her wet hair into a ponytail and headed back out.

It was when she stepped out that Josie realized her dress was torn and sweaty and charred, and even bloodier than the rest of her had been.

She spent a moment or two perusing the clothing racks lining the shop, before choosing a cheap black hoodie and ripped jeans. Her dirty, bloodstained Converse would have to serve her.

She headed to the counter and dug her wallet out of her dress pocket. While she dug through it for the cash, the girl scanned her clothes.

"Seven twenty-nine," the girl said. She ran a hand through her dreads.

Josie pulled a five out of her wallet, along with seven quarters and two dimes. She swallowed.

"This is all I have," she said, suddenly finding that her throat had a lump in it. "Is th-there a cheaper hoodie?"