Fear Itself

I woke up again. Not screaming this time, thankfully. Not doing much of anything. I didn’t know what I was doing, to be honest, but I was awake. I was awake, and I was numb. I was empty. I didn’t really know how I felt anymore. My memories of torture used to haunt my sleep, and at least I could recognize that as fear. Now, they had me so numb, and confused, and empty that I didn’t know if I was scared or just indifferent. Maybe I was just sad, but that almost seemed too pathetic.

The sleepless nights were getting old. The sweating, the shaking, the screaming… all of it. Waking Dean up in the middle of the night because I thought my friends and I were dying wasn’t something I particularly enjoyed, so much so that it terrified me to try and sleep at all. I thought avoiding sleep would lead me to comfort, but all it led me to was anxiety and a lot of wasted time. For the first time ever, I felt completely out of control. This situation was out of my hands, and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like not being able to fix things on my own… especially when it didn’t seem like there was anyway to fix them at all. Dean said it would get easier. He said that in time, the feeling would pass. But how much time? He didn’t know. He said it was different for everyone. I didn’t want to be dreaming about this for the next ten or twenty years. I didn’t want him to keep having to wake up and console me every night. The idea itself left me petrified.

My eyes drifted toward the window, up toward the sky. The stars blinked off in the distance, and I wondered what I was supposed to do. How in the world was I supposed to live like this? It all just seemed so utterly hopeless. I glanced beside me, saw Dean sleeping, saw his skin glowing in the moonlight pouring in from the window, and shook my head. I ran my hands over my arms, almost to hug myself because I couldn’t hug Dean. Something was stopping me. I didn’t know exactly what it was. My fingers felt a thin sheen of sweat coating my skin.

I ran my hands over my head, felt the bits of soft stubble brush against my finger tips, and I could almost feel my eyes watering. I tugged at the fabric of Dean’s shirt I was wearing, then I felt stupid for wearing his clothes. What was I even doing? What was the point? I had my own clothes here, and I was wearing his. I was nervous. I had always been nervous. Now, I was broken, like a clock that didn’t tick, the gears in my head weren’t turning correctly, they were getting stuck and just… I closed my eyes for a moment.

I looked back at Dean, saw how peaceful he looked when he slept. He needed to look calm more often. I wished I saw him calm when he was awake, but that was rare. He was usually stressed, and lately, that was because of me. My fingers stretched out to touch him, but I stopped. I couldn’t bring myself to wake him up, so I just looked a little longer. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I really couldn’t wrap my head around it… but Dean was better than this. He didn’t deserve to have to deal with this. In fact, he’d probably be better off without me and my mess.

Biting my lip, I quietly slid out of bed. I found my leggings on the floor, where they’d been unceremoniously discarded just a few hours ago. I pulled them back on, careful not to put too much weight on my heels in the process. I took a deep, quiet breath and turned my head to look at Dean again when he stirred and shifted to his side. Suddenly, I felt so miserable when I looked at him, and it wasn’t even his fault. My head wasn’t working right, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I couldn’t pry my head open like I did Avery’s phone. I couldn’t play with the data and pull out some chip or faulty wiring. Even if I could, I wouldn’t even know where to start. I couldn’t even make sense of what was wrong with me.

Softly, I tip-toed across the floor, over to the window, and I leaned up against the wall. I let my arms rest on the window sill while I gazed up outside, just like I used to at home… just like where I used to dream about where I’d be in the future. I didn’t imagine I’d be here. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d be this scared of everything. Discouraged by the thought, I dropped my head and let my arms slide off the window, dropping by my sides. I couldn’t look outside; it upset me, so I quietly passed the bed and crept out the door, making sure the hinges didn’t creak when I left.

My feet shuffled with me down the empty hall. There was nothing around me but vacant space, yet the air felt so heavy and dense, almost like I couldn’t breathe. But I couldn’t go outside. So I wandered. I walked down the hall, letting the fingers of my right hand brush an invisible trail against the wall beside me.

I was tired. I was tired mentally, tired physically, tired of feeling like I was weighing Dean down with my ridiculous nightmares and my penchant for never wanting to just stay put. Maybe he felt the same way. Maybe he was just as tired as I was, yet here I was, wandering the halls of an enormous house in the middle of the night because sleep escaped me, and he was sleeping sound in his bed. Usually, sleeping next to him felt so comforting, but tonight, the warmth just wasn’t there. I couldn’t find it, and that scared me.

My hand soon fell upon a door, and I pushed it open. A bathroom. I wandered in with bare feet and wide eyes, but I stopped at the sink, and I turned to face myself in the mirror. Tears stung my eyes when I saw a stranger in my reflection. I just didn’t see myself there anymore, didn’t know who I was. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, a few tears rolled out and spilled my cheeks, but then I felt weak for crying, which only made me feel worse. My hands gripped the edge of the sink, and I hunched over it, muffling my sobs, trying not to scream no matter how badly I wanted to.

I felt my ankles pulsing, and I knew I needed to sit down. I walked into the shower and just sat there. I didn’t turn it on, didn’t do anything. I curled up and tugged my knees close to my chest, hugging them tightly. I pressed my back into the corner as tears began to pour, spilling down my face, and I couldn’t stop crying. I tried to be quiet. I kept my face buried in my knees, but I was still making noise. Then, I felt angry at myself for even making a noise at all. I just cried harder because I was frustrated, and I heard the door creak open.

“Blondie?” Dean’s groggy voice cut through the silence. There was another noise near him, the scratching of tiny claws against the bathroom tiles. I lifted my head just a little, looking at him with red, puffy eyes. Winston stood beside him, looking at me. I sniffled. “Babe, what are you doing in here?” he asked. I just shook my head and dropped my face back in my knees.

Winston padded up to me and licked the side of my head, and I couldn’t help but utter a small laugh. I looked up and rubbed his head. “Thanks,” I told the dog through my tears, and he just laid down right next to me in the shower without hesitation. I looked back to Dean for just a moment and shrugged. “I don’t even…” I looked to the side. “I don’t even really know myself.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” Dean said as he stepped into the shower and sat beside me. “I would have stayed up with you, you know that.” He leaned over to kiss my cheek, but I turned my head from him and stared at the wall. “Blondie, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I don’t feel anything,” I added. “Not a thing.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, and I felt his hand on his shoulder.

“What’s there to talk about?” I chuckled through heavy breath and tears. “I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me. I don’t… I don’t know where to go from here. I just feel like I’m never going to get any better, and I’m just going to be stuck like this… like I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Dean corrected softly. “Blondie, this is normal—“

I snapped my head back to him. “Then how come you don’t wake up like this anymore? How come you get to sleep through the night and feel okay in the morning? I just feel like… hopeless, and detached, and just tired all the time.”

“I still have nightmares sometimes,” he confessed, and my face softened. “Not as frequently, but I do have them.”

“You mean, those come back?” He just nodded, and my face collapsed back into tears. “Then, what’s the point?” I sobbed.

He squeezed my shoulder gently. “Blondie, why don’t you come back to bed?” he asked. “We can put a movie on… something funny—“

“No,” I stated bluntly. “Dean, maybe I should just go.”

He seemed startled. “Go? Where?”

“Home,” I told him with a shrug.

“Oh, back to your dad?” he scoffed a little. “‘Cause that’ll do you a world of good.”

I sputtered another sob. “I don’t know, clearly I can’t handle reality, so maybe I’m better off,” I cried.

“I wouldn’t be better off,” Dean said softly. I lifted my eyes and glanced at him, and all I could do was shake my head.

“I think you would be,” I murmured. “I think things would be a lot easier for you with me gone.”

“That’s not true,” he contended quietly.

“I don’t even… Dean, I just don’t know how I feel anymore,” I wept. I rubbed fiercely at my eyes. “I think it’d be better if I just left.”

“Blondie, I love you,” Dean told me, bringing his hand to my cheek and making me look at him. “I know you love me too, you said it yourself. That’s still there. It’s just… it’s buried down there.” He paused, and he brushed my tears away. “We just have to dig it out again.” I nodded softly and tried to fight off tears, but they fell anyway. Dean pulled me closer and held me close to his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” he assured me. “I promised I wasn’t going anywhere. That still stands.” He ran his hand over my head and held me until I stopped crying. “Let’s go back to bed, Blondie,” he whispered.

And we did, even though neither of us fell asleep again until the dawn broke. It was sad for to think this was normal, but it was. I couldn’t see it changing, either.