Don't let me go

1.

Jensen touched his empty stomach with the tips of his fingers, he could feel his ribs through the thin layer of skin that wrapped his bones.

He was hungry.

He hadn't eaten since last morning's breakfast, and the need of food was drilled in his brain,  there, screaming.

Hungry.

Thats the only thing Jensen could think about.

Hungry.

He liked it though, the emptiness. Something to keep himself busy with.

Hungry.

Beacause if he were to think of anything but the hunger, he would've thought about the accident.

Hungry.

And he sure didn't want to think about that.

Hungry.

Jensen hugged his body and rocked himself in the corner of the bed, he wrapped himself in blanckets and gripped the cotton clothe with his eskeletical fingers, he was trying -and failing- to keep himself warm.

He heard the door being knocked somewhere outside his mind, in the real world.

He tryied to say something, anything, but the worlds just wouldnt come out.

The door was opened and Jensen's grandpa steped in "you awake?" Jensen didn't move "Jen?" He walked closer to the bed and sat next to Jensen's head "you want some breakfast, boy?" Jensen looked at his grandfather as if he didn't know him, as if a strange man had walked into his room and sat in his bed, Jensen was scared, not of his grandfather but of looking at his eyes and finding his father in them. His brother. God, his little sister.

Jensen avoided his granfather's glance in silence, after what felt like hours of unconfortable quietness, Gene stood up, he walked out of the bedroom and closed the door. And god, Jensen wanted to tell his grandpa to stay, he wanted to tell him how much he loved him, how bad he needed him there, he wanted to through himself to his arms and cry himself to sleep, he wanted to be told that it was ok. That he would get through this.

He wouldnt.

Jensen stared at the celling, just because there was a celling for him to stare at, he made up stories with the shadows ion it and told himself his family was about to come pick him up, "they should be here any minute now" he whispered to himself, his voice too quiet for anyone but him to hear "I should go get ready".

Jensen stood up, his knees too weak to hold him, his mind too stuborn to let that stop him. He walked to the bathroom, his naked feet burning against the cold floor, his too thin legs begging for him to sit down, his mind too stuborn to let that stop him.

Jensen closed the door and let his naked body rest against the tile, the cold of it freezing it's way to his bones. Jensen didn't mind though. He turned on the shower and let the burning water hit him, he curled up around himself in the floor and stayied still, he felt the water slipping into his body and getting him clean, the scent of five days of crying wrapped up by layers of blankets and wearing nothing but his own skin being washed off. He scrubed his body with cheap soap and washed his hair with weird smelling shampoo.

The cold air that hit him when he got out of the shower made him shiver. He wrapped his body with a towel and whimpered when a home like warmness embraced him.

He had to hurry up.

They should be here any minute now.

Jensen went to his room and dressed himself in the confiest clothes he had, it was a long trip back home.

He went down the stairs and sat in the livingroom, his eyes glued to the window, waiting for his father's car to apper. They should be here any minute now.

"Jensen?" The surprise was clear in his grandfather's voice.

"They should be here any minute now" was Jensen's only answer.

"Who are you talking about, boy?" Gene's voice was sweet, as if Jensen was a hurt animal he was trying not to frighten away.

"Mom and dad. Maybe they'll bring Mack too" he said without not even galncing at his grandpa, his eyes glued to the glass.

Gene steped closer to his grandson and put a hand in the skeletical shoulder "maybe we should get some breakfast, you haven't eaten much"

"No. They should be here any minute now"

"They're not coming Jen" Gene said as he sat next to his grandson, his voice soft as if not to scare Jensen "why don't we go get some breakfast?"

"No! They should be here any minute now!" Jensen's eyes were wild green, the need to believe screaming inside him.

They should be here any minute now.

They should be here any minute now.

They should be here any minute now.

Gene took Jensen's shoulders and forced him to look at him. And Jensen looked. For the first time in a week he looked at his grandfather's eyes. Green met green. Grieve met grieve. Jensen found in his grandfather's gaze his own gaze, his father's gaze, his brother's gaze, Mackensie's gaze.

Green eyes that hadn't skip a generation, eyes that now held the curse of being remembered.

Jensen stood up just to fall in his place, his knees were weak, his body was weak.

Not a drop of stuborness in him to try and stand up.

Jensen stared at his hands, not a tear running down his face.

Numb.

He remembered reading about it in english class, his teacher, Mr. Medina, believed that truth hid in poetry, he had made them read a thousand poems, some so beautiful it made flowers bloom inside Jensen's heart, some so painful it made his heart ache, drowned with broken promises no one had ever made to him, drowned with broken promises that were the poet's not his. He liked to borrow them, he liked to take all those emotions people burried in between words, hidden by ink and paper; he liked to call other's joy his, other's pain his.

Numb.

There had been a particular poem, one about a naked woman in winter that couldn't feel how her body froze. He didn't like the poem at first, the idea of felling nothing seemed a lie to a teenage boy in love with life.

But in that, while Jensen was laying in the cold floor as the pain that only truth can hold hit him. He couldnt think of anything but the naked woman.

Numb.