Maniac

You Were With Your Friends

You sat on your couch, rain hitting the window. You bite your nails as the suspense in your book builds. "Blood gushed out as from an overturned tumbler, and she fell straight on her back. He drew away to let her fall, and then at once bent over her face: she was..."

"Y/N!" You could've sworn you lifted at least a foot off the couch. Your heartbeat skyrocketed as your face turned ghost white.

You rushed to the window, and through the downpour, met eyes with him.

"What the..." You ran outside, not going any further than the front porch. "Dean?... It's midnight! What the hell are you doing here?!" you asked, earning a smile.

"There you are. I thought you might never show yourself," he laughed before taking a long drink of some sort of alcohol. When he was finished, he set the bottle in the grass.

"You did this to me, you know? This is what you created!" he yelled, breathing hard as raindrops dripped from his hair, down his face. He started to walk closer, and you panicked.

"Dean, d-don't... don't come any closer. You need to calm down, or I'm calling the cops," you said, trying your best to keep your fear hidden. He laughed to himself and picked up a shovel from the ground.

"How tall are you again?" he queried, putting a finger to his lip. You didn't answer, and he chuckled.

"Oh, well. I guess you're pretty average, aren't you?... How many shovels of dirt does it take to make a hole the perfect size for a body?" he asked, shoving the shovel into the ground over and over again.

"I know you're not gonna kill me, Dean," you told him. A deep, eerie laugh escaped him, causing you to feel even more fearful.

"Dean, listen to me! I am renting this property, and if you don't stop, I will get you in jail!" you said, watching as he kept digging, deeper and deeper. "Dean!" you yelled. "Calm down, Sweetheart. We both know you're not gonna do anything," he laughed, throwing his jacket to the ground.

"Look what I have!" he said in a singsong voice, grabbing something from his pocket.

"You know what this is?" he asked. You sighed and looked to the door, debating if you should just call the cops or not. The truth is, he's right. You really don't want to. "Y/N, Hellooo?" he slurred.

"No, Dean. What is it?" you asked, pulling your hair in frustration.

"It's a rose! A freakin' rose. You know why?" You bit your tongue. "Because..." you started. "Because why? Come on, spit it out!" he egged you on. "Because that's what you used to call me," you said, keeping tears back.

"Because that is what I used to call you." He stopped and thought for a second. "Well, you know what, Rose?" He shoved the shovel into the ground so that it was stuck standing up. He then took the bottle of alcohol into his other hand before drenching the rose.

He took another long sip of it then threw it to the ground. Shattered glass, and what was left of the drug mixed in with the rain and mud. He took a lighter from his pocket, and somehow through the downpour, he was able to set fire to the red flower.

"How's this for love, huh?" he asked, watching it melt away before tossing it into the grave. You didn't know what to say as you watched him bury it.

He nodded and tossed the shovel to the sidewalk with a loud clang. You could see regret in his face as he stared at his destruction.

"I think you should go," you said, softly.

"I..." he started, but his breath was stifled. You could see a tear fall from his eye, straight to the ground. Probably mixing into the mud, followed by a second one, which he wiped off his cheek.

"Go home, Dean," you said before reaching for the door. "Y/N, wait." His voice was soft and broken, but you sighed and turned the doorknob.

As soon as you got inside, you locked the door and ran to the window to pull the blinds down, but watched through the cracks as he took the time to collect the big pieces of glass, his jacket, and the shovel before walking away.

Once he was out of sight, you sat back on the couch, unable to contain your tears any longer.

Your phone buzzed against the soft cushion, and you picked it up. A text that was sent by him an hour ago lit up the screen.

I'm on my way. Don't worry. Life is over. I love you, my rose.

"This isn't a game, and I'm not a joke!" you screamed, grabbing and throwing the first thing you saw. It shattered, and you looked to see the picture you took with Dean on your first date, destroyed.

You let out a sob and pulled your legs close to your chest. Crying seemed to be the only sane thing that your brain came up with, so that's what you did. You cried for who knows how long until sleep finally took over.

I hope you liked this chapter! The next one will be out July 4th!