Chapter Text
Chapter 1
"Dean," boomed a loud voice "Wake up! You have to take me to school!" "Son of a bitch" Dean mumbled as he looked at his alarm clock, now awake. Shit, he thought to himself upon seeing that it was already 7:20. He had to leave in ten minutes! "Coming, Sammy" he shouted back to his little bitch of a brother. No time for breakfast, he presumed, oh well. It's not like he was going to eat it anyway. Dean scrambled to find a long sleeved shirt and some jeans. After doing so, he grabbed his phone and ran downstairs, pulling on his leather jacket as he did so. "You're really wearing that?" Dean's little brother, Sam asked, "It's like 80 degrees out Dean!"
"Yes. Now get in the car. Bitch," Dean said with a fake smile. "Jerk," Sam easily replied. Dean hasn't worn short sleeves in a while, Sammy pondered, Maybe he's just cold. What Sam didn't know, was that there was a more sinister reason behind the sleeves.
Ever since that first night that Dean had picked up the blade, he couldn't stop. He made cut after cut, scar after scar, every night. He was always careful never to let his sadness show though, he couldn't bear the thought of being an even bigger burden. He hadn't eaten normally in weeks either, hoping, praying that no one would notice. And no one ever did. Or so he thought.
"Sammy you comin' or what?" Dean shouted from his pride and joy, the midnight black 1967 Chevy Impala dubbed Baby. "Coming!" Sam shouted back, snapping out of his thoughts and racing to the car. "It's gonna be a good day today Dean, I can feel it."
"Yeah, whatever nerd," Dean responded affectionately. He ignored the pangs of longing and sadness that came when he realized that he really, truly wished that was true. Maybe I'll make a friend today, Dean thought. It was, however, sarcastic; even to himself.