The worst thing about being locked in a mental ward was there was nothing to do. The patients just hung out in their rooms, ate food, took meds, and slept.
Well, they slept unless they were Sam Winchester.
How long had he gone without sleep? It was hard to tell. The days blended together. He felt like he had been in this ward for years.
Sam had nothing to distract him from the loud hallucination of Lucifer, his headache, or the fact that he was days away from dying in here.
He had no way of determining how much longer he had to suffer.
What he wouldn't give for a case right now. Anything to occupy his mind until he finally bit the big one.
Sam sighed heavily and stared through the blinds. Nothing to look at. Just an empty yard enclosed by the hospital.
"Man, you must be really determined to wait out nap time," a new voice commented.
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Sam whipped around and saw Marin standing in his room, wiggling a candybar.
She tossed it on his bed and turned to leave.
"Wait! Uh—" Sam called frantically.
Marin turned around.
"Share this with me." Sam gestured to the candybar and laughed lamely.
"Thanks." Marin said as Sam began trying to undo the wrapper, then added, "Don't know why I'm thanking you for a candybar I stole..."
They both chuckled. Sam gave up on the wrapper and set the bar down.
"So how long you been here?" he asked.
"Five weeks and counting," Marin replied, "Going for the record."
"How come?" Sam asked.
Marin bit her lip and looked away, "Doesn't matter."
"Lot of bandages for 'it doesn't matter.'" Sam replied.
"You want the doctor answer? I'm psychotically depressed with suicided ideation." she spun on her heel and began to leave.
Don't leave Marin!
"And the not doctor answer?" Sam prodded before she could go.
Marin turned back around and took a shaky breath, "I feel like crap. I just...want it to be over." She said.
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God, Sam knew that feeling.
"What?" Sam asked.
She gazed at him with pain-filled eyes, "Everything." Marin pursed her pink lips and her voice trembled, "Come on. Tell me I have everything to live for."
Sam scoffed, "Why would you believe me?"
She gave him a wry smile, "True."
"I hear you're here because the voices won't let you sleep," Marin said.
"Uh, just one. Really." Sam laughed softly.
"Who is it? Like Charlie Manson or the devil?" Marin asked.
Sam pursed his lips and nodded, "Kinda. Yeah."
She raised her eyebrows and shrugged, "Me too."
Sam looked at her in surprise.
"I...hear a voice." Marin explained.
"Is that why you set the fire?" Sam asked.
Marin's eyes widened and she took a step back, "Who told you that?" she breathed.
"No one. The-the burns—" Sam began.
Marin was backing away with a look of horror on her face. Sam was terrified she would leave, but she began defending herself instead.
Marin raised her hand with emphasis. Her voice rose with each statement, "I didn't. Set. The fire. O-ok. HE did. I don't know why I'm even talking to you." She shook her head and turned away.
"Marin its ok!" Sam exclaimed before she could run again.
"No, it's not!" Marin whipped around, "You are crazier than I am. Charles Manson tells you what to do at least it's my own brother—" she faltered.
"It's your brother?" Sam's hunter instincts kicked into gear.
"Yes. It sucks," Sam saw his own pain reflected on Marin's face, "When it's your dead brother saying kill yourself to be with him or he'll do it for you."
Why did that feel a little close to home?
Sam wanted to ask her more questions but his own feelings were getting tangled up. Besides, it would be rude to ask her to relive her pain –pain Sam emphasized with greatly.
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When Sam's mind refocused Marin was gone.
That was alright. He would see her again. At least now he had a case.
