Chapter 14 - I Don't Even Know Anymore (no really. Ran out of good titles. Lol)

Your P.O.V

It's been about a week since we arrived in England and even though I knew that being here was best for me, I couldn't help but feel so empty inside. There was a gaping hole in my heart from Kyoya's betrayal that not even Crowley could attempt to stitch up. I walked throughout the street in a hoodie and jeans, looking down and not drawing attention to myself. Music was blaring through my headphones into my ears and I almost didn't notice the man approaching me at a slow jog, sweat soaking his long-ish hair. He bumped my shoulder, accidentally of course, right where I was recently stabbed, causing a searing pain to spread throughout my body. I hissed and dropped the bag full of groceries I happened to be carrying. "Damn," I heard him whisper, bending down to help me pack up the things. "Sorry about that, I was too busy setting up a live stream on my phone." It was then that I recognized the voice and I looked at the man properly for the first time to see none other than Jared Padalecki, his long hair sticking to his neck and his muscles showing through his tank top. "Jared?" He nodded, standing up after finishing the job and handing me the bag. We had a quick conversation, but he seemed to be distracted, always looking down slightly and when I looked as well I noticed that my sleeve was up slightly, revealing many scars all over my arms (not from me, obviously). "What have you done to yourself?" He asked sadly, grabbing my arm gently and holding it up. The choker scratched a little at my neck, reminding me that I couldn't tell him the truth even if I wanted to, especially since all I could do was break down. Slipping forward and falling into his arms, he allowed me to cry into his chest as he rubbed circles on my back and whispered sweet, friendly things into my ear. "Hey, you're don't deserve this. You have so much to carry on (*cough* my wayward son *cough*) for and even if you believe you're losing the fight, just think that you're here right here and now. That's proof that you've fought another day. You're winning the battle." As encouraging as his words were you knew they held no meaning to me. All of these scars were not from me. I wanted to tell him, hell, I wanted to scream it to the world. But I couldn't. Not ever. "Here," he said, slipping a piece of paper into your hand and snapping you out of your thoughts. "Call me if you need help."

~

Three days. That's how long it had been since I met one of my idols Jared Padalecki. We had been exchanging texts under the supervision of Crowley, whose name came from Supernatural because of his surprisingly similar looks and behavior to the character Crowley. Even the real Crowley was Scottish and enjoyed a bottle of Scotch every now and then. Speak of the devil, Crowley staggered into my one window cell, obviously drunk off his ass. What else is there to expect from a douche like him? "Hello, love," he slurred and when the cell door didn't shut I knew something was wrong, that he was planning an extra special method of torture that he probably got from watching one of the Saw movies. I'm fucked. I am so fucked. Completely. Royally. Fucked. Up the ass. 'Cause I love Jesus.

Okay. It's short. Shoot me. But I thought it'd be really funny to end on that little joke. #AlwaysKeepFighting. Support the campaign and their one year anniversary! Even if you're not a part of the Supernatural family, we're all here for you and so are all the cast members of the show. Love you all. It's good to be back.