E/O Challenge Word:
water /ˈwôtər/ n. – A colorless, transparent, odorless, tasteless liquid.
Spoilers/Warnings: none, pre-series
Disclaimer: Not mine
Word Count: 300 (triple drabble)
You may be right. I may be crazy. You may be wrong for all I know, but you may be right. ~ Billy Joel
John stared at his wife; his fingers nervously fiddling with the bottle of water held loosely in his hands; its plastic sides slippery with condensation in the overly-warm, overly-white room.
"John..." Mary called; reaching to still her husband's fidgeting hands. "Stop."
John sighed, withdrawing from her grasp and leaning back in his chair.
Mary fought welling tears. "Talk to me. Say something."
John laughed humorlessly; because what was there to say when your wife was either a liar – for apparently the entire time you had known her – or was crazy, talking of demons and deals and a life lived on the hunt.
"What do you want me to say?" John asked her, because he was open to suggestions; desperately needing advice on how to handle this situation.
"Say you believe me," Mary answered, shifting from where she perched on the side of the hospital bed.
John swallowed. "I believe you believe yourself," he said instead. "That's why you're here, Mary. I want you to get the help you need. I want you to get better...for me...for the boys. We want you to come home."
"And I want to come home," Mary assured him; her gaze unwavering from her husband's. "But there's no recovering from the truth, John. The demon is coming. Keeping me locked in this psych ward won't change that. You have to take the boys and leave town before it's too late...before the demon comes tonight."
John sighed and stood, having heard enough about "the demon" for one day.
Mary watched as her husband approached; closing her eyes as he gently kissed her forehead.
"Get some rest," John told her, love and sadness in his tone. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Mary shook her head, knowing he – and her boys – wouldn't live to see tomorrow if John didn't leave Lawrence tonight.