A.n – So, theres some language in this chapter too. It's probably going to become a regular. This chapter is my pride and joy so far. I enjoyed writing it and I enjoyed how it worked out. I hope you enjoy it too. The chapter is supposed to be set out like it is.
It had only been seven hours.
Seven hours since her fix.
Seven hours since she had left Bam.
Seven hours since Sam had taken away to drugs.
Seven hours since she had felt entirely happy.
Seven hours ago she had felt perfect.
Now she was doubting.
Her eyes wouldn't stop watering. she couldn't pick things up because of the trembles. The cramps were killing her and the chills were driving her insane.
And the craving.
The caving was so bad she didn't think there could be any more pain possible.
She just wanted to die.
And it was seven hours in.
Twenty four hours in, Kim didn't see point in the whole withdrawal method.
It was the middle of the night and she couldn't sleep.
So why was she yawning?
"You ok Kim?" Her head snapped round and she tried to focus on Sam with her watery eyes.
She kept her lips clamped together, in fear of vomiting everywhere.
"You know you're going to. So why bother holding it in."
She ignored the voice and kept pacing the room, hugging herself.
"Why is it so fucking cold?"
She had tried to keep warm, putting layer after layer of jackets on. If only it would work. And the flesh on show was covered in goosebumps.
Sam had said these were expected.
She suddenly felt something rise in her throat and the panic flared up.
"Move now or else you're not going to make it."
She dashed to the bathroom, leaving the room in darkness. She was bent over the bowl, bringing up anything that she had eaten in the last day or so.
Not a lot in fact.
She dry-heaved a few times, tears running down her cheeks. And then Sam was in the room, rubbing her back and talking to her in a low voice, whispering nice words to calm her down. She spat into the bowl, trying to remove the acidic taste in her mouth.
"You really have messed up Kimberly."
She let Sam lead her into the main room and cuddle up to him, both leaning against the wall for sleep. He moved a stray piece of her hair and looked at her. Kims eyes settled on the bottle of sleeping pills and she muttered one word.
"Just this once." Sam tutted before moving away from her. She almost fell onto the floor but steadied herself and her eyes followed Sam. He grabbed the small bottle of pills, his bed sheet and a glass of water before returning to his sister. Sam wrapped the sheet around the both of them before helping her to take the small pills.
They fell asleep shortly after.
When Dean woke up that morning and saw his two siblings sleeping, he watched them for almost an hour before moving as quietly as he could and go get breakfast.
The scene was to innocent to disturb.
Thirty eight hours into the withdrawal, Kim destroyed the room. Dean and Sam had left her for ten minutes and they came back to a trashed room. Clothes littered the floor and and furniture had been turned over. Dean scanned the room and found Kim behind one of the upturned beds, holding her hands tightly.
"I couldn't find them." She stuttered. "I need them Dean."
Dean maneuvered the bed and knelt down in front of Kim.
"You don't need them anymore Kim."
"Yes I do Dean, its worse than dying."
"We can see that Kim. But it's the only way you're going to get better." Dean took one of her hands and looked at her face,
"It hurts . . Everything does. The craving."
"Kim. We, couldn't get you any methadone. The doctor." Sam sighed. "He said you would have to go in to see him but you're in no state to. We were talking about it and we think the only way to help would be to knock you out to sleep. We don't want you dependent on sleeping pills and aspirin." Sam said sympathetically.
"Trust you to think of that. Just do whatever you have to. I want the pain to go away." She whispered, closing her eyes and letting a tear roll down her cheek.
"We're going to make this as pleasant as we can." She heard Dean say.
Fifty hours into the withdrawal, Kim pulled a gun on her own brother.
She couldn't take it any longer. Why were her brothers being so evil to her? Taking away the one thing she was dependent on.
She was empty, her loss of appetite stopping her from eating. She couldn't even throw up anymore. Her throat was sore and the pain was too much, building too quick.
And the bad thing was.
Every single pill the Winchester had, had been disposed of.
She was desperate, The craving was worse than being ripped limb from limb still alive.
She just needed her fix.
So when Dean stepped out of the bathroom that morning, he was faced with a pistol. The pistol full of bullets and the initials KW carved into it. He was shocked none the less, to see his sister with glassy eyes and a fine layer of sweat on her face from the hot flushes, pointing a handgun at his head.
"Put the gun down Kim." He ordered, raising one of his hands, inching forward.
"Stop moving. Where are they?" She screamed, her hands trembled and her eyes watering severely.
"We've been through this already. You don't need them."
"I do. I fucking do need them. It's not fair!" She shouted, steadying the gun.
"You don't need them. You just want them. And thats because you're weak Kimberly." Dean said calmly, even though he had a loaded pistol pointed at his head.
"Shitshitshit. Wheres Sammy?"
"I need them more than anyone knows. Why can't you see that it's hurting me." She cried, tears falling from her eyes, blurring her vision.
"We got rid of them Kim. Now lower the god damn gun."
"No!" She screamed again, gripping the gun tighter in her hands.
"What do you want me to do Kim. I don't have them, neither does Sam."
"Don't fucking lie. I checked the car and the room. There not there. You must have them."
At that moment, Sam walked into the room, dropping the bag he had been carrying, coffee spilled over the floor as he watched the scene play out.
It was dangerous. She was dangerous. .
"You're losing it Kim. They're going to get through to you. So shoot him quick and maybe the other one will tell you were your drugs are."
"Where the hell are my drugs Sam?" She turned to him, blinking several times as dizziness took over her body. She pointed the gun at his chest before snarling as best she could.
"We got rid of them. Theres no way you can get them back now."
"Why did you get rid of them. You know I need them so much."
"We know Kim. And thats why this is going to hurt like hell." She put more pressure on the trigger, anger taking over. Just as she was about to shoot her brother, someone barreled into her.
"Duck!" Dean shouted, tackling Kim to the ground.
A shot was fired and missed Sam by an inch, embedding itself in the dry wall.
For a few seconds, Sam couldn't focus. But slowly his sight returned and he sat up. Looking over to his left, he saw Dean restraining Kim, while trying to wipe at her tears.
The whole day was fucked up.
Seventy hours in, Dean and Sam came back to the room they had left. There was no mess, no signs of distress, and no crazy sisters trying to shoot them.
The reason for that was that they had taken the guns from her that day and hidden every single weapon. Well Sam had. Dean had gone off to a bar for the night after having to put Kim to sleep in a brutal manner.
Sam almost felt sorry for their excuse of a family.
It had been only three days and nothing was right anymore. The most Kim had talked was when she was begging for her drugs. And even that had began to become a routine.
Wake up, explain why they were doing this to her, try to get her to eat. And then put her to sleep.
And this day was no different. It was a Wednesday, meaning the Winchesters had to go shopping for provisions. What would have been a half hour job turned into two hours.
It was all Deans fault.
He had met some nice girl and flirted for a while before dragging Sam into helping her do her shopping. Sam persisted, whispering nastily to Dean that they had a drug deprived sister in their room and she could be doing anything. Dean had ignored the harsh words and continued to walk with the girl.
Sam wanted to get back to the motel. Because Kim hadn't been looking great at all. Sam knew she was a serious case because he had looked it up on the computer.
She had fallen fast.
But she refused to go into a rehab center, begging for them not to put her in one.
So they didn't and now all he could worry about was what she was going to do next.
When they arrived at their room, everything was the same as when they left.
"Where is she?" Sam asked, putting down the bags he had been carrying.
Dean was laughing at a joke Rachel had made. His charm had persuaded her to come back for coffee and Dean almost forgot about Kim.
"Uh, the bathroom?" He bit his lip in confusion.
"Who's she?" Rachel asked, placing her handbag on the table.
"Our sister. She's not entirely well right now."
"Should I go?" Rachel asked, making to pick her handbag up.
"No stay, she's probably just having a bath." Dean smiled again, placing two coffee cups down.
"You must be great brothers. Doesn't it annoy you that you all have to live together?"
"No, we just got used to it." Dean turned away, his cheeks turning red at the compliment.
Sam was banging on the bathroom door, calling for Kim.
"She's not answering Dean." He said matter of factly.
"Maybe she doesn't want to talk to us."
"No, Dean, She knows she has to. Break the door down."
"No. I am not doing that Sam." Dean shook his head.
"Do it or I will." Sam glared at his brother, who made no effort to move. "Fine then, I will."
Sam counted to three under his breath and barged into the door, which opened easily. He looked around the room before shouting.
"Shit. Whats happened. Whats wrong?"
Dean barged his way into the room to find Sam leaning over Kim. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Kim laying on the floor, a huge wound on her head, blood dribbling from it. Her hair was matted with the warm liquid and a small puddle had formed by her head. His legs went numb and he found himself shocked to the spot.
"Dean. Dean?" He heard Sam shout. The voice sounded far away, as if through water. He watched as Sam pressed a towel to the gash, trying to stem the flow of blood.
"Dean. Stop fucking standing there and help." Sam pressed even harder, trying to check his sisters pulse.
Sound filled Deans ears, a roaring at first which began to get louder. And then he could hear again. His mind snapped into overdrive and he shouted into the other room.
"Rachel, I need you to look in the cupboard under the sink. There is a first aid box in there. Bring it me." He rushed to his brothers side.
"How did this happen?" He looked at Sam.
"Best guess is that she passed out and caught her head on something, possibly the corner of the shower." Sam took the towel away from the wound. It was heavy and had been stained red. He reached for another one and pressed it once more onto the wound.
Rachel appeared suddenly and gasped when she saw Kim and the puddle of crimson red on the floor.
She passed him the box and he opened it before taking out a needle and thread. His hands shook as he put the thread through the hole in the needle. He never once winced as he started to stitch up the gash. The flow of blood soon stopped and Dean finished stitching up the wound.
He picked his sister up carefully and walked into the main room. Placing her down on the bed, he looked at her and took in how ill she looked. Her skin was pale and she had black circles around her eyes. She looked withdrawn and thin, not like the person she had been when she had left. Dean could of cried at that moment. He had never realized a thing.
And look where his blindness had got her.
Rachel left shortly after that, promising not to say anything to anyone about the day. Sam spent most of the rest of the day in the bathroom, scrubbing the tiles vigorously, even though they were clean.
And Dean sat with Kim, watching her and cursing softly to himself.
She didn't awaken for three days.
One hundred and forty four hours in, Kim woke up from the mini coma she had been in. The three days she had been sleeping were filled with anxious brothers trying to bring her back and nightmare.
Kim woke with a gasp and a cry the third day, waking Dean immediately.
He had hardly left her side for the past few days, getting up to use the toilet and eat. He slept by her side and talked to her in his waking hours.
A way to show he cared.
So when she woke with a gasp and a cry, Dean woke up and Sam rushed over.
"Kim, hey, stay awake." Dean slapped her lightly as her eyes closed again.
She lifted her hands to her face and caught the stitches. Wincing, her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes.
"What happened?" She whispered.
"You fell and caught your head. We had to stitch you up." Dean smiled down at her.
"Oh god." She sighed.
"You scared the hell out of us this week Kim."
"Wasn't my fault." She murmured, trying to raise her head.
"How you feeling?" Sam asked, putting a glass of water to her lips.
She took a sip before coughing.
"Hungry. I have this awful taste in my mouth." She chuckled before pulling a sour face.
"Yeah. Pretty much Sams fault. He said you needed to eat so he forced some vegetable soup down your throat."
"Thanks for that Sam." She sniffed before biting her lip. "Did I really do all the things I remember?"
"I'm really sorry. You know, for the gun incident." She closed her eyes again.
"Thats O.k. It wasn't you anyway. But you're banned from the weapons for a while." Dean swiped a stray hair from her eyes before looking to Sam.
"So Sam, you paying for dinner?"
Sam grumbled before getting out his wallet. "You owe me." He called to Dean, walking out and closing the door quietly.
"So, you still feeling any cravings?" He asked Kim.
She turned her head away before nodding slightly, indicating a yes.
"Are they bad?"
"Not as much. Its just like a toothache."
"Good, because if you ever point a gun at me again, I will have to kill you."
"Yeah, whatever. I want to go back to sleep." She muttered, pulling the bedsheets up.
Dean watched for a few minutes before pulling his arm gently from under her head and walking into the bathroom.
Everything was swell.
On the seventh day, everything was well.
Only the slightest craving was present and it could hardly be felt. Kim was up and about and had gained a bigger appetite. The only bad memory left visible, was the black mass of stitches in Kims head.
The whole thing could be seen as a blessing.