"I just want to be an angel."

penitentx

Deanna hadn’t meant to become entrapped. She’d felt someone was on her tail for awhile, so she’d began to distance herself from everyone she knew; including her brother and her angel. She was right to do it as well. It had been after hours. There had been two of them at first. She could handle that easy enough, she’d worked them over decently enough. While they took their own toll on bruising her up. She’d been through worse. But when three more appeared, her fight was soon diminished. Deanna Winchester had fallen to her knees, seeing nothing but stars.

When she’d awoken, her legs were bound a wooden table. She could feel slivers etching themselves under her skin, after she’d discovered the lack of clothes. Her arms were above her, tied to a pole of some sorts, and she lay there. For hours, struggling and scratching herself against the rough experimental table. And when the men had gotten back, the profanities and warnings she had unleashed on them. She was full of spunk, and faith. Faith in Sam, and faith in her angel. Not that they would find her, that they would be safe. Could be kept safe, if she didn’t speak a word of them. So that is what she did, but they were on her mind any spare moment she had.

The tortures, they had been so horrible. There was nothing else she could refer to them as, other than torture. At first she had been strong. She remembered, witty, snarling, back talk. She’d held up her battle easily, consistently worrying for those she left in her absence. But slowly her snarky little phrases had come less and less….

They had started out small, smacking, beating, lashing, as she had mouthed off. Sure the jagged edge of the whip had ripped her skin, they couldn’t afford to let her bleed out. What fun was a dead corpse to preform the rituals on. A few needles here, a few full body prying, and pinching examination. But slowly, these things grew into yanking, and pulling, and ripping. They discovered a game. How far can her bone bend before it breaks, and how long until it heals. How high is her burn tolerance, her tolerance to being numbed by cold. How much blood can she lose before she collapsed.

Deanna felt blessed for those days, the days in which she had passed out because the pain was too much. They were cruel, vile men, but they allowed her a day to recover. To regain some of her lost blood. Food was scarce, and they enjoyed hearing her moans and pain and watching as her ribs stuck out, and her blonde hair began to thin. They fed her contaminated water, and watched what It did to her. One of them, the youngest. Was referred to as ‘The Healer’. He unkindly made sure she didn’t die. Always keeping her on the brink of death, but not quite dying. There was never a spot on her body that wasn’t filthy, and covered with a scar or bruise.

So many horrible games, how high can she fall before something breaks, how black can we made Deanna’s eyes. How puffy can her face get..? Soon her words failed her. And she spoke no more. Only allowing herself to cry on the hard floor of her cell after they had all left her. Only whimpers of pain, maybe even cries if she couldn’t bare it. Have you ever met someone that can have multiple bones broken one after the other; and yet they utter not a word. That’s the lengths Deanna came too. She was too weak to cry, and all she had left was the will to not give them the satisfaction.

So many tests, so many different types of blood had been injected into her body. Ripping her into pieces. They enjoyed placing their broken test subject in her cell, with a creature of some sort. They never allowed the creature to kill her, they simply studied how she fought. The only thing that kept her going was seeing his blue eyes once again…being able to have him hold her, being able to slip into one of her brothers plaid shirts while he was away. To protect him from everything.

Time didn’t exist in the torture chamber, and soon, neither did day nor night. So much time had passed, it felt like centuries. The men became interested in the more private areas of the Winchester. Using her body for their own sadistic needs. Seeing how much she could handle at once, how quick it all was. It was disgusting, it made her feel like filth afterwards. She couldn’t remember the last time she showered. Or ate more than just enough to keep her alive.

When she was sure they had left her to die. In her cell, her shoulder dislocated, and her face. Swollen. Every part of her was fragile to touch, so cut and bruised. She could barely see anything in front of her. Deannas eyelids were huge and purple, and her hair wasn’t blonde anymore. It was long, and stringy, and missing in a certain spot on her head. Her body size wasn’t even half as big as it once was, and she was ready to die. She didn’t even know her own name. It was as if it was in her reach, but she couldn’t quite place it. The men had given her so many foul names, she had began to refer to herself as those internally. She forgot the thoughts of her past life, sure she had lost it. She hadn’t spoken in months.

They had broken Deanna Winchester.

She was out of tears. She was out of strength. Today was the day, she could feel it. She could not endure anymore of their tests. She would surely die, her body was only human and it was done. She had cracked and she had tried to pray. To Castiel, so many times. But even that seemed like so long ago.

When she heard the screams. Screams that weren’t her own, she cowered in her cell, one shoulder hanging out oddly, and her forearm cradled into her chest. Her head was nuzzled into the filthy cement wall and her she was almost unrecognisable. She heard footsteps approaching her cell, and she let out the smallest sound. Of fear. These footsteps were different from the five pairs she had come accustomed to hearing. Was it someone else to inflict her pain. She cowered away from them as they opened her cell door. Trying to shrink away.

'Leave me, leave me alone!' She had wanted to moan out her cry, but she wasn't sure she knew how to speak. She was scared of what her voice sounded like when it wasn't concealing her noises of pain. 'Leave me alone to die..' Is what she had wanted to request. Was it really so hard to do…

Until he had said her name. It caused her to try and see him better through her bruised and blackened face. Deanna. Deanna. Deanna. That’s right. That was her name. She used to repeat it every day. What were the words,..

My name is Deanna Winchester. I’m…a hunter… My parents are dead…

But what else, there was more. Slowly the man, the horror struck man stepped towards her. He looked like he was tired of fighting something. He looked like he could just collapse. She cried out. It was as loud as her pained voice could go. It was a screech. A schreech of ‘don’t hurt me..’ But she couldn’t say it. She moved her feet, trying to push herself into the wall.

My name is Deanna Winchester. I’m…a hunter… My parents are dead…I have a brother… My name is Deanna Winchester. I’m…a hunter… My parents are dead…I have a brother… My name is Deanna Winchester. I’m…a hunter… My parents are dead…I have a brother

The stranger spoke words. Words that stopped her struggling, and caused her to gape at him, her mouth quivering. Her body remembered him, her mind just needed to catch up. She felt tears pooling in her eyes, and her lip quivered more harshly. The tear made it’s line down the layers, and layers of blood and who knows what else on her face.

My name is Deanna Winchester. I’m…a hunter… My parents are dead…I have a brother..his name is….

Sam. My name is Deanna Winchester. I’m…a hunter… My parents are dead…I have a brother..his name is Sam…and I’m in love..

But what really was love..Deanna let out a sob staring at the stranger, tears falling faster and faster, her tiny body shaking like it was going to erupt. She knew. In that moment she knew. Her confusion left her and she felt like she just wanted to melt into nothing. This was Castiel. He had found her…

My name is Deanna Winchester. I’m…a hunter… My parents are dead…I have a brother..his name is Sam…and I’m in love with an angel…his name is Castiel

That’s it. That’s what she would repeat. She flinches as he reaches for her, she couldn’t remember kindness. The soft touch of one trying to help. She extended her non dislocated arm towards him, just barely. She flinched again. She wanted him to heal her. She felt that it would help. But she wasn’t used to being touched.

His hand came into contact with her cheek. Gentle and caressing as he tried to calm her. It hurt, to see her like this. It was beyond what he'd be able to heal at once. He'd have to do it in parts, or risk her body going into shock. She's been through enough, a voice angrily berated. Her need was greater than his want. 

Grace flows gently under his hand. Anything internal is top priority. Most of these seem to be in check, except for those corrupted and burdened by her diet. Stress, as well, was taking its toll on her. Things he could fix. Things he will fix. There was no question. He had already let her down once by not being able to find her right away, he wouldn't allow it again. She was his to look after. More pain wouldn't be allowed to come of her. Not now, not ever.

The memories of this place were rightfully hers, but he could only imagine the trauma that would come with them. It wasn't his place to wipe the vile place from her memory, even if the idea was unbearably tempting. A whole eleven months of her life. It would be hard, trying to explain it to the others. Why Deanna didn't seem traumatized, why she was asking about the hotel they had been at nearly a year ago. She had a right to remember these things, and maybe, in time, she would allow him to let the memory free of her mind.

"Deanna, it's Castiel, can you hear me?" He knows she can. Her ears weren't damaged. But was she in shock? No, no, she had reached towards him. She could be thinking that she was having a hallucination. Perhaps that idea wasn't supposed to hurt as much as he did. That his absence was so great that for her to even begin to fathom him it would have to be in a surreal setting. 

"I'm right here, okay?" Talk her through it. Soft, slow. He tried to keep his voice light, but emotion was always a bastardly thing that followed him around. Corrupted his original programming. So his voice is tense with emotion. Explaining a year without love is impossible. The first nights always were the hardest, where his body searched and yearned for hers. Wanting to fall back into another one of their "non-cuddle" situations and fall asleep entangled in her. And now, after all this time, would she return to him, or berate him for his inability to do something so simple as a rescue mission. He was late, she was wounded. He had failed.

Failure seemed to be tattooed to his soul. 

"I'm going to pick you up, and then we're getting out of here. Can you talk to me? Tell me... Tell me about your childhood with Sam. You remember Sam, right? He's waiting for us outside. He's making sure no one else enters this building. You're safe, we have you. It's okay. I am so sorry, Deanna. I'm sorry." 

A briefing of 2158:

2158 follows the life of Anastacio Espinosa in a world where WWIII has left the planet in ruins. Survivors like him must adapt to this post-apocalyptic world and endure the struggles of finding substantial food, clean water, and safe shelter. Anastacio’s experiences with impressionable children, dangerous scavengers, and harsh social conditions all sum in a mutual effort to survive—even when survival seems impossible.

Positions That Need Filling:

Writers

Artists

Voice Actors 

Organizers

Proofreaders

Promoting (PR)

If you’re interested in any of these position, please click the read more. 

Shots. Shots were easy when it came to the drinking game, atleast for him. He enjoyed doing shots and having a normal drink to his left aswell, but tonight was just shots and with a fistful of cash he’d slammed down, there’d be plenty to go around- well for him and Castiel that is. He smirked widely, wondering how long it’d take to get the other inebriated. He could hold his own quite well, especially since he was at full power.

I’m actually in the middle of moving, so I’m not going to have internet for at least a few days. Or maybe as late as August 9th if we decide on a different carrier. I’m sorry for the recent amount of inactivity, but once I get settled into my new home I’ll be sure to get to all the replies I owe.

I’m actually in the middle of moving, so I’m not going to have internet for at least a few days. Or maybe as late as August 9th if we decide on a different carrier. I’m sorry for the recent amount of inactivity, but once I get settled into my new home I’ll be sure to get to all the replies I owe.