Please Don't Leave Me

Chapter 3

(Abuse)

After he finished eating, Dean returned to the living room to escape John's death glare. It was always intimidating to be in the same room as the man, but when he was mad it was ten times worse. He sat down and opened up his English assignment, but he couldn't seem to focus due to the fear that was starting to spread through his body. He just hoped that Sam wouldn't go to bed early tonight and unknowingly help delay the inevitable. 

Halfway through his Chemistry assignment, he heard Sam telling their father goodnight and it sent his heart into overdrive. It was early, even for Sam who went to bed at 8:30 every night, to go to bed. To delay the boy a little, Dean yells a goodnight to his brother who simply responds with a good night in return before he continues to his room. So much for that. 

Dean listens to Sam's footsteps as he goes to his room gives him a little comfort because it at least means he is out of the way and will continue to remain ignorant; however, anxiety for what was going to happen, what always happens, made him want to curl into himself and disappear. He could feel his father's anger and hatred radiating off of his being from across the room.

No more than Sam's door closes is John across the room. Dean can feel his cold, ruthless hands closing around his neck cutting off his air supply as he drags him towards the basement. He kept his voice down and tried not to struggle much so he wouldn't bother Sam, but he couldn't stop himself from clawing at his father's hands as he became more and more light headed. When they finally reached the top of the stairs, John lifted Dean up and grinned at him evilly making the boy feel more fear than he had before. John never smiles. That is unless he is going to be putting his son in a lot of pain. Dean couldn't hold in the terrified yelp that escaped his mouth when his father threw him down the stairs. 

Hitting the first stair was the worst. It knocked what little air he had out of his lungs and promised more to come. After what felt like forever, he landed at the bottom of the stairs on his leg causing a loud pop to originate from his knee. A small cry left his lips due to the pain that flared in that area. He didn't attempt to get up and just tried to keep himself from throwing up the food he had received earlier. John was getting closer to him and speaking the whole time, but Dean couldn't make out much of it. His head was pounding and the room was spinning too fast for him to concentrate on anything but it. 

"You can't even listen to properly," John growls lowly standing over the boy on the ground. 

Dean attempted to pull himself further away from the man, but he grabbed a hold of his leg and jerked him back. A strangled gasp is all Dean gets out before his father kick him in the stomach and he loses the only food he had had in a week. He can't hear anymore, but every kick and hit seems to be amplified. Fortunately, though it brings him closer and closer to that sweet darkness and bliss where he can't feel anything nor can he dream. 

Before Dean can slip into unconsciousness, his father stops and looks down at him curled on the ground. Dean curled himself into the smallest ball he could to try and protect at least some of himself. Maybe he will be merciful and leave. His hearing wasn't the best due to his body throbbing everywhere. Slowly, he started to uncurl himself thinking his father had left because nothing had happened in so long that there was no way his father could still be there. But, oh how wrong it was. The second he finally opened his eyes, he saw his father's face. After that, he felt a sharp pain in his head before darkness took over everything.

Dean woke up hours later in something wet and sticky. He looked around to see red everywhere. Confused, he tried to get up which caused burning firey pain rush through his body ripping a scream from his lungs. It all rushed back to him once he was able to breathe properly again. Blood was everywhere and everything hurt so bad. His body was screaming and he could feel where the blood had dried on his skin and smell the rancid smell of where he had lost his meal yesterday.

After struggling and failing for God knows how long, Dean was finally able to get up. Somehow he managed to stand on his feet and stumble over to his bed. His body was screaming from the exertion that the movement took on his whole being. He didn't have any mirrors in his room other than the one that was in his bathroom (his father had a full bathroom installed so he wouldn't have to see Dean walk through the house more than he had to) and even then it was just a piece of a shattered mirror he had found. There was no way for him to find out what he looked like at the moment and honestly, he was grateful for it because it meant that he could lie to himself. Sometimes, if he laid there long enough, he would be able to convince himself that he was somewhere else and not in pain. Somewhere where his mother was still alive and his father smiled at him from time to time.

This, much to his dismay, was not one of those time. Looking over at his alarm clock to see it was 11:30 in the morning. That would mean he had to have been out for at least twelve hours. Not as bad as it could have been, but most definitely not good. He had school today, but he could feel that he wouldn't have been able to go to school either way. Dean just laid back and in his bed and sighed. He had only been awake for maybe an hour and he was already ready to go back to sleep. His body hurt and sleep was really the only way to escape it.

As he closed his eyes, he heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs making his heart about leap out of his chest. He knew there was nothing he could do about the fact that the man was on his way down here, and that made the whole thing that much worse. He could just hope it was him coming to see if he'd finally killed him.

The door opens to reveal John with his beloved friend and Dean's worst enemy...the whip. His father wore a huge grin, one that could compete with that of a kid who just got what he asked for on Christmas morning. His gaze immediately lands on his son's broken form and begins to stride over. His gate excited and unwavering, it was like he couldn't wait to begin. Grabbing Dean roughly, he drags him over to the corner of the room. Here was a structure he had made specifically for this. It was just a simple frame made out of steel poles that were bolted into the ground. In the corners, there were looks welded in. 

John manhandles Dean into a standing position before ripping off what was left of his shirt and jeans. Then he goes on to tie Dean's hands up above his head. Dean was hardly able to process everything that was happening because it was all happening so fast. He just knew that he wanted it over with and nothing had even happened yet. It was times like this that Dean wished that he had never been born. 

"Sam isn't home and netiher are the neighbors. So be as loud as you want because no one will hear or care," John whispers in Dean's ear. As his words settle in, Dean's heart rate picks up and panic begins to take over his form. "Not that they would either way. You are the reason that Sam's mother is dead," he continues. She was my mother too... Dean thinks as pain tears at his heart. He doesn't voice his thoughts though, especially when he sees him raise the whip out of the corner of his head

"Please, I'm sorry," Dean pleads desperately. He lets out a scream as the first last tears into his already mangled skin. "I'll be better, I promised!" He cries out in between hits. John seems to enjoy the sounds of his son's screams because he won't stop. If anything he hits harder and harder ignoring the frantic pleas and outcries from the boy.  

Eventually, Dean's screams go silent as his voice tires out and he can't take it anymore. He tries something that could cause his death, but he couldn't care anymore. "Please, Dad, please stop...I can't," he barely manages before blacking out for the second time in twenty-four hours.