The Rope (Destiel)

1-800

Why am I here?

Nobody likes me anyway.

Is this God's way of saying "Screw you"?

Many thoughts like these crossed Castiel's mind when he held the knife in his hand. He had many more cuts than usual. Then again, they laughed at him more than usual.

The things people say in the locker room.

He knew he needed help, so he called one of those suicide hotlines.

"Hello?" A man answered.

"I need help." Castiel sobbed.

"Don't worry. That's why we're here."

"They keep laughing at me. Making jokes."

"Don't listen to them. Okay? I'm sure that whatever they're saying is the opposite of true."

"But it is true. I am a faggot, and that's all I'll ever be."

"No it's not. You're more than that."

"How would you know? You don't know me. You're lucky enough to not know me."

"Hey, I'm sure I would love to know you."

"You say that now. But within five minutes of knowing me, you'd wanna kill yourself too."

"Don't say that. Suicide is not the answer. I realize I sound overly cliche, but that's actually what we're suppose to say." Castiel could tell he was trying to cheer him up, but that hasn't happened in years. Not since his parents were still alive.

"Why am I here?" He sobbed.

"Answer me this: what is the thing you love doing the most?" Castiel thought for a moment.

"I suppose I enjoy writing."

"Then that's what you're here for. You're meant to be a writer. That is why you're here."

"But I can't stop crying." He sobbed.

"Wipe those tears away. Tears are something you can forget. They're removable. Temporary."

"Most people would just say 'stop crying, you little faggot!' Just rip the band aid off. No one ever says stuff like that."

"You shouldn't let them get to you. Just ignore them."

"But when I ignore them, it just gets worse. I get more cuts from them then myself."

"You shouldn't cut yourself."

"The pain distracts from the pain."

"What does that get you? What's the advantage?" Cas started sobbing even more. He looked at his closet, the door wide open.

He stared at the noose hanging inside.

"What's your name?" He whispered.

"What?"

"Well, you said you'd love to know me, so I think we should start with names. I'm Castiel. Who are you?" There was a pause before he answered.

"My name is Dean."