Status: Completed!
Supernatural Oneshots!
Bridge to Outtro
Sam is standing over the sink, the poor porcelain bowl bowing under his immense weight, and stares down the drain. Blood is creeping slowly toward the silver inlet, leaking not from his lips or eyes or nose. His head is spinning in slow, dizzying circles as his breathing becomes labored.
The sink creaks beneath his reddened hands.
How much longer would it take until his head stopped spinning he wonders.
One Mississippi...
Two Mississippi...
Three Mississippi.
He's counting slowly in his head, staring as the blood reaches the drain and listens as the sink creaks again.
Four Mississippi...
Five Mississippi...
Six Mississippi...
Sam's starting to get weak in his knees and his face feels cold. He can feel his eyes growing heavy as he tries to look in the grimy mirror at his reflection.
Seven Mississippi...
Eight Mississippi...
Nine Mississippi...
His eyes are sunken in and his face is white as paper. Haggard, angry veins are streaming along the white's of his eyes, attacking the brown rings in a violent assault.
The sink creaks again and his legs wobble.
Sam is no longer able to keep his thoughts thinking what number he's on, the world begins to slow down and his elbows give beneath his body, sending his chest crashing in the porcelain. As he lands on it the sink gives way with a loud crash and the sound of porcelain breaking on the hard tile ground.
Red splashes over the grey tiles, darkened by scum and grime from years of use and misuse.
It doesn't matter how long its been now, he can feel everything starting to fade. First the feeling in his arms dissipates and then his legs. The warm release of pain washes over his body like a wave of saving grace.
His arms stop burning and he starts to shake, uncontrollably spewing blood everywhere. Only it isn't coming from his mouth, nor his eyes, nor his nose.
He can hear Dean pounding on the bathroom door, which Sam had barricaded prior to this last step, and he doesn't care. It's too late for him anyway.
He'd been a fuck up since the start. This is all that's left, letting himself wash away in a pool of blood and tears.
Sam can no longer keep his eyes open and they slowly drift closed. His hearing goes out, he can no longer hear Dean shouting and pounding on the door. All he can hear is his heart beat.
ba-Bump...
ba-Bump...
ba-Bump...
...ba...bump...
...ba...
bump...
ba...
…...
The sink creaks beneath his reddened hands.
How much longer would it take until his head stopped spinning he wonders.
One Mississippi...
Two Mississippi...
Three Mississippi.
He's counting slowly in his head, staring as the blood reaches the drain and listens as the sink creaks again.
Four Mississippi...
Five Mississippi...
Six Mississippi...
Sam's starting to get weak in his knees and his face feels cold. He can feel his eyes growing heavy as he tries to look in the grimy mirror at his reflection.
Seven Mississippi...
Eight Mississippi...
Nine Mississippi...
His eyes are sunken in and his face is white as paper. Haggard, angry veins are streaming along the white's of his eyes, attacking the brown rings in a violent assault.
The sink creaks again and his legs wobble.
Sam is no longer able to keep his thoughts thinking what number he's on, the world begins to slow down and his elbows give beneath his body, sending his chest crashing in the porcelain. As he lands on it the sink gives way with a loud crash and the sound of porcelain breaking on the hard tile ground.
Red splashes over the grey tiles, darkened by scum and grime from years of use and misuse.
It doesn't matter how long its been now, he can feel everything starting to fade. First the feeling in his arms dissipates and then his legs. The warm release of pain washes over his body like a wave of saving grace.
His arms stop burning and he starts to shake, uncontrollably spewing blood everywhere. Only it isn't coming from his mouth, nor his eyes, nor his nose.
He can hear Dean pounding on the bathroom door, which Sam had barricaded prior to this last step, and he doesn't care. It's too late for him anyway.
He'd been a fuck up since the start. This is all that's left, letting himself wash away in a pool of blood and tears.
Sam can no longer keep his eyes open and they slowly drift closed. His hearing goes out, he can no longer hear Dean shouting and pounding on the door. All he can hear is his heart beat.
ba-Bump...
ba-Bump...
ba-Bump...
...ba...bump...
...ba...
bump...
ba...
…...
♠ ♠ ♠
Ugh so I had this in a combined story to hold all of my oneshots but mibba is apparently lacking in organization skills and says that EVERY oneshot has to be separate and it is royally stupid because my room (which looks like it was just int hat tornado in the midwest) is more organized than mibba. just saying.