The Wall
1/1
Don’t scratch the wall.
It’s like telling someone with chicken pox to not scratch. You tell them and they have the urge to relieve the itch so they scratch and they scratch and they scratch until the itch is gone; until they’re beside themselves with relief.
Sam can’t help scratching, remembering. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out, stuck in his head and unable to use any motor skills. All he knows is the wall itches and he keeps scratching and with scratching comes remembering. He remembers the bright burning heat, he remembers Lucifer being stronger, angry. Michael was, too. They were both so angry and so strong and he remembers what they did to him, locked in the cage.
When he touches his soul, or what is left of his soul, it’s raw. Like a steak that an animal had been chewing on but could never quite finish. He tried not to do it often, touch his soul, because every time he did a brick in his wall crumbled and another memory flooded his brain.
Most of them time he tries to think about Dean. He tries to shove away everything but the memories of road tripping for years with his big brother, hunting monsters and saving families. Those days are foggy, the memories sometimes out of reach, but when he can reach them…he feels some part of him twitch, move.
And when those body parts twitch and he’s thinking of Dean he can hear his brother beside him, saying his name over and over again. But no matter how many times Sam tries to respond, to tell him that there’s someone inside him, his lips fall short, and his throat fails to work. And every time like clockwork when Dean lets out a last whispered Sammy the memories of Lucifer drag him and tear him back to Hell.
Hell within his head.
It’s like telling someone with chicken pox to not scratch. You tell them and they have the urge to relieve the itch so they scratch and they scratch and they scratch until the itch is gone; until they’re beside themselves with relief.
Sam can’t help scratching, remembering. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out, stuck in his head and unable to use any motor skills. All he knows is the wall itches and he keeps scratching and with scratching comes remembering. He remembers the bright burning heat, he remembers Lucifer being stronger, angry. Michael was, too. They were both so angry and so strong and he remembers what they did to him, locked in the cage.
When he touches his soul, or what is left of his soul, it’s raw. Like a steak that an animal had been chewing on but could never quite finish. He tried not to do it often, touch his soul, because every time he did a brick in his wall crumbled and another memory flooded his brain.
Most of them time he tries to think about Dean. He tries to shove away everything but the memories of road tripping for years with his big brother, hunting monsters and saving families. Those days are foggy, the memories sometimes out of reach, but when he can reach them…he feels some part of him twitch, move.
And when those body parts twitch and he’s thinking of Dean he can hear his brother beside him, saying his name over and over again. But no matter how many times Sam tries to respond, to tell him that there’s someone inside him, his lips fall short, and his throat fails to work. And every time like clockwork when Dean lets out a last whispered Sammy the memories of Lucifer drag him and tear him back to Hell.
Hell within his head.