TORTURE, SUPERNATURAL

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ. ʙᴀʙʏ

I wake up with a whimper.

The sound feels like nails scraping around my mouth; my body is aching. A pang of pain goes through my neck when I sit up. I rub it gently, my fingertips brushing over what feels to be swollen bruising. The Djinn yesterday was faster than I had expected. I should have slit her throat when I had the chance. But I didn't and this is my consequence.

Outside the window, the sky is a deep, unforgiving blanket of grey. I grimace at the sight. I hate it when it rains. I feel claustrophobic. Stars remind me that there is more to life than darkness.

Sitting up, I look beside me towards Dean. He's still sleeping, arms wound tightly around a pillow. Sometime in the night, he took his top off and I can see his tight muscles tense as he sleeps. I can't resist a smile as he lets out a slight snore. I look up from Dean, towards the other bed, and freeze.

Sam is gone.

I spring to my feet, looking around the motel room. The bathroom door is wide open, empty. The small kitchen is also empty, devoid of Sam. I frown and move closer towards the window. I let out a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding as I see the car pull back into the motel parking lot, Sam in the driver's seat. He parks and gets out, holding three coffees.

That's when last night comes back to me, the nightmares, him grabbing and sitting on me, our heated discussion, the proximity that our lips got to.

I need to remind myself that we are strangers. I only met him yesterday morning. But I can't deny that there is something between us already, something that is heavy and strong and hard to control. I feel as though I've known him for years. I feel as though he's going to be the end of me. Goosebumps rise on my arms. I shake these thoughts out of my head.

As Sam heads back to our room, I grab my duffle bag and rush into the bathroom, avoiding talking to him. Either in fear of getting angry or not having the courage to stand up but I don't want to let myself know which one it is.

The front door opens just as I escape into the bathroom.

I take my time in the shower, lathering my hair and body with soaps and conditioners. I get out of the shower smelling like lavender. I haven't smelt so lovely in weeks.

However, I'm not so lovely in the mirror.

My neck, as suspected, is purple and blue. I touch the swollen skin gently. It hurts.

But still, I blow dry my dark hair and leave it out so it partially hides my neck. I change into tight, sports shorts for easier movement, and throw on a plain shirt. I'm not fussy about what I wear. My mother always dresses in a leather jacket and boots, but I think as long as I can run in it, it's ideal.

I open the bathroom door just as someone knocks on it gently.

Sam stands there, one hand midway up in the air, preparing to knock again. He looks up at me slowly, his dark lashes fluttering.

Warmth rushes through my body. My cheeks heat. I try to tell myself he is deadly, risky, handsome. But as he brushes past me, his eyes not leaving mine, my body becomes electric and my inhales turn shaky and rough. Why does he do this to me?

"Good morning. " Sam whispers as he passes me into the bathroom.

He turns on the tap and rinses his face, the water rushing off his sharp features. He rolls back his shoulders, tugs off his shirt, and some of the droplets rush down onto his chest. He is beautiful. He is perilous. He meets my eyes in the mirror.

I jump, turning away. I grab my bag and hurry away from the bathroom, my face aflame, heat everywhere. Embarrassment makes me shake and I throw my bag on my bed and try to cool down my face. That's when I notice Dean is awake, still tucked into my bed, watching me with a smirk on his lips.