This is Justice
I screamed as the lit end of the cigar burned into my flesh. The noise muffled by the gag in my mouth. I didn't bother trying to act tough, tears streamed down my cheeks as I was momentarily blinded by the pain. The scent of burning skin filled my nose and made me nauseous although I doubted anything would come up if I did get sick, seeing as to how I hadn't eaten in...I couldn't remember how long it had been. I realized shockingly that my last meal had been a cheap breakfast with Bobby, not much more than a couple of Pop-tarts and a glass of orange juice. My throat was parched as well, and I felt the beginnings of a killer headache on its way, but right now my left elbow felt like it was on fire. He withdrew the ugly cigar and pressed it once more into the skin just above my elbow. I screamed and slammed my head back against the arms were tied behind me wrapped around a support beam, prohibiting any movement besides turning my head or moving my legs. I found myself longing for the sweet calm of unconsciousness. I just wanted it to be over...
I gazed at the little statue of the angel that Dean had on his dresser. My brother was downstairs doing homework and I was left to my own thoughts. It seemed like everyone at home was tense. I felt like I was walking through a minefield. One wrong word and someone would explode. No one's thoughts were really on what they were doing. No, everyone thought only about one thing. Lily.
My dad worked later than usual each night and left earlier than usual every morning. He didn't have to explain himself. All anyone wanted at this point was to know that Lily was safe.
My mother found me sitting on my bed a few minutes later. She silently walked in and sat beside me, draping her arm across my shoulders.
"How you holding up?" she asked.
I shrugged and nodded towards the statue, "Do you believe in angels?"
She squeezed my shoulder, "Yes."
"Because," she took a second to think, "if there's bad in the world, there must be good too."
"And that good is angels?" I questioned.
She shrugged, "I believe it's angels, but I think everyone sort of sees that good in their own way."
"Like God and heaven?"
"Exactly. Some people think of God, others just think of greater good."
"Do you think angels are watching over Lily?" I glanced down at the floorboards as the question escaped my lips.
"Oh Sam," My mother said gently, "I know they are."
"Why don't you just kill me?" I gasped as the gag slipped from it's place.
My father chuckled, "That would be too merciful. No, I'm going to make you feel pain," a punch, "Just like you made me feel," another punch this time to my rib cage, "This is justice."
I spit the copper tasting blood from my mouth and raised my head to look at him. He had that same glint in his eyes that he used to get whenever he was drunk. Evil. The craving to cause pain. If I didn't know him I would think he was possessed. But I did know him. I knew what he thought I did, I knew how he felt about me. That didn't mean taking the blows was any easier, or the pain and fear were any less.
"I. Didn' .Her ," I said, putting as much emphasis on each word as I could.
"You stole her from me!" he roared, he took a step back and pulled something out of his back pocket.
Why couldn't I get a break? At least this once? Did fate just hate me? He twirled it around in his hands as he stepped closer and smiled as if he knew what I was thinking. I stiffened, already anticipating the pain that could be caused by the object he held. A knife. Not just any old butter knife, no of course not. Somehow this maniac got a hunter's knife.
"Where did you get that?" My voice cracked on the last word.
He chuckled and bent down in front of me, he put the sharp end against my neck and gave it a soft push. I grimaced as I felt liquid slowly drip down my throat. He repositioned the blade and pressed it against my cheek.
"You want to know why I don't just kill you now?" he fumed, he pressed the sharp metal across my skin, "It's not that you don't deserve it..." he grinned, no doubt picturing all the horrific ends that might be mine, "No, because you stole something very special from me, now I'm only returning the favor, killing you will come eventually. First? I'm going to take something away from you. I'm going to make you feel that pain, and then I'm going to kill you."
"Well, Moriarty," I replied, trying to sound tougher than I felt, "You already accomplished that. You killed my siblings, now there's no one left to kill, sorry."
He shook his head, "You and I both know that isn't true, Lily. What's that youngest Winchester's name? The one with the shaggy hair?"
'Oh God, no, please no,' I prayed, 'Not-
"He looks so innocent, I'll bet he's just dying to see you." My father glanced at his watch and started walking out of the basement, "I'll tell him you say 'hi'" he called down to me. He stuck the knife in the wall as he walked up the steps.
"Leave him alone!" I screeched not caring how sore raising my voice made my throat. I started tugging against the ropes that held me captive, "Don't you dare-!"
But my father was gone and my threat hung in the air.
"Oh God," I sobbed, feeling so utterly helpless and knowing that if anything happened to Sam it would be my fault. Just like Emma. Just like Erin. "Oh God."