D e a n

t w e n t y

Please say something, Astrid mentally begged as she watched Dean stare off in thought. A muscle in his jaw twitched repeatedly. She nervously licked her lips and turned to the window above the sink. The growing silence between them was grueling. And she had never felt more nervous.

In an incensed tone, Dean hissed, "Get rid of it."

Astrid blinked. 

"What?"

"I don't want it."—I don't want you—"Get rid of it."

It . . . Astrid stared at her pale hands laying flat on the cold countertop. ". . . what?" She whispered in disbelief.

"What exactly were you expecting?" Dean asked in a scoffing tone as he casted her a withering look. She could almost laugh at herself. What was she expecting? Tears began to fill her eyes, and she mentally scolded herself for this. She peered up at him through her lashes. At the sight of her watering eyes, he added, "Oh come on, Astrid. Get real. You can't honestly be that naïve."

Astrid didn't think she was being naïve . . . Was she?

Dean leaned in intimidatingly, and Astrid sucked in a timid breath. "Do the thing a favor—do everyone a favor," He began in a low tone, his face a mask of rage. "and get rid of it."

Her lips parted.

"You'd be a shitty mom, anyways." He hissed in a taunting voice. Casting her a look of scorn, he abruptly turned.

Astrid took in shaky breaths to contain herself, her hands shaking so violent, her eyes burning with tears, tears she fought back so desperately. But ultimately—she snapped. How could he be so cruel? Couldn't he see how much this meant to her? After going so long with the belief she could never have a child of her, then to have this unexpected—but very welcomed—gift granted to her. She turned on her feet and childishly shoved him as hard as she could. Dean stumbled forward before shooting her a chilling glare.

She pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. A single tear ran down her cheek. With her face twisted in hatred, she shoved him again. Her hands pushing viciously on his chest.

Dean gave her a warning glare that would have normally worked before—but now, with how angry and hurt she was, only seemed to go right through her.

When she went to shove him again, he grabbed her wrist in a vise grip. No doubt leaving colorful bruises for the next days to come. To which she responded with swinging her other hand. He slapped it away and jerked her—hard. "Astrid, Stop it," he gritted in forewarning. With her teeth grit and bared, she pushed and hit him repeatedly. All while trying to squirm out of his painful grip.

"Let go of me!"

Dean tried to get a good hold on her.

"Fucking stop it!" He bellowed, starting to get pissed off.

He managed to turn her around. With her arms crossed in front of her, he held her wrists tightly behind her back. She moved too much and his grip slipped, so he quickly wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up.

"Get off me!" She screamed and thrashed against him. Her legs flailed out and she knocked over a chair. She kicked the table so hard, a leg nearly broke under the impact as it screeched along the tiled floor. She screamed and screamed until she was red in the face.

"Stop it!" Dean barked over her shouts. He tried to cover her mouth, and she bit him as hard as she could. "Ah! You fucking bitch!"

He pushed her away violently and she tripped.