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closetspngirl · 6 years

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Love Heals the Soul (Part 28) - The Fall

Summary: The story continues...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 2269

Warnings: swearing, all the angst and sadness, SUPER tiny thought alluding to rape, the word isn’t even mentioned in the story, but the allusion is there, torture (chained up, knives, burning, starving), hospitals...I think that’s all, let me know

A/N: This is a rough one. Really rough. Continuation of the story the reader is telling Jensen, so everything is in flashbacks/italics. Please heed the warnings on this one. Also, I could have SWORN in a panel that I watched of Briana’s one day, that she mentioned her husband’s name, and that it was Juan. SO. That’s what I went with here, since keeping him nameless. Please let me know if I’m wrong. EDIT: Briana’s husband is José. I changed it. is always welcome! Italicized are lyrics, POV thoughts or text conversations; you can tell by the context

You woke up some time later in a damp and dark room, musty smelling with cement walls, arms chained over your head. You were sore, figuring it was because they weren’t there to play nice and roughed you up on the way there, but nothing was broken.

You could tell that you weren’t…God you couldn’t even finish the thought. You just knew you weren’t. Your flannel was gone somewhere, leaving you in the white tank top that was underneath and your jeans. You were also barefoot. Awesome.

Your throat was dryer than the Sahara making swallowing difficult. Your arms hurt from being chained up for who knows how long, and your wrists…oh your wrists. You realized what kind of pain was going through them, not the rubbing of the iron on your sweat dampened skin pain. The pain was going down the arm, in the tendons. So much for everything. They were shot, you just knew they were. But you couldn’t worry about that now, you needed to try to get out.

As if on cue, you heard the door to your right open up and a man came through. He was nicely dressed, slicked back hair blacker than oil, mustache, navy blue suit and silk tie, a gold ring with a black onyx stone on his pinky finger. What shouldn’t have surprised you was the articulation with his English; it was damn near perfect.

“Hello Y/N. My name is Matías. How are you doing today?” he said with a Machiavellian smirk on his face, his accent underlying his words.

“I feel like I’d be doing a lot better if I weren’t chained up. Anyway we could just talk about this like two civilized adults?” You tried to keep a cool demeanor, but you were scared shitless and had no idea what he was going to do to you. Needless to say, there was a little edge in your tone.

He put his head down, a dark grin crossing his face as he turned his ring with his opposite hand. Without warning you heard a loud crack, as the back of his hand met your face, the pain was instantaneous, and you had an iron taste in your mouth. His ring having cut your lip. So maybe sassing someone in the mafia wasn’t the smartest move.

“Oh Y/N, you’re going to soon learn that you probably should be careful about your answers. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been told to be careful…now would it?” he asked you, not really looking for an answer. Moving in close to you he said, “Besides, where’s the fun in being civil?”

It’s all a game; he wants you to second-guess yourself. Those were good people.

“Now…” he said as he stood to his full height and walked behind you to a table you didn’t see before, different instruments and knives laid out, “Let’s talk about the fun you and I are going to have. I ask a question, and if I like the answer then you’ll be ok, for now. If not, well…”

You were able to crane your neck enough to see him pick up one of the knives, nothing bigger than what could fit in a pocket, lightly dragging it along your arms, down your sides, across your neck in the back but not breaking the skin.

Yet.

You were whimpering now, scared out of your damn mind that Briana was the only one who knew you were here, and even then, she didn’t know where to find you.

He circled you, like a predator to their prey, deciding where to strike first.

“I’m going to keep this simple. I won’t touch that pretty face of yours, or your hands, make it easy for you to hide everything I’m going to do,” he told you, as he slid the blade over both spots as he spoke, still circling you.

“The rest is fair game. I also want you to live. I want you to see the scars that you’ll have, every day, and remember who did it to you, and why I did it. Your brother took my son. You only have him to blame for this.”

By the time he got to the end he was yelling, anger filling him over the loss of his son. You didn’t dare argue the fact that Jonathan didn’t take him, or that he died in his arms or that the whole event had caused nightmares for Jonathan every night after.

You kept your mouth shut.

Placing the blade back on your cheek you whimpered again. “Your protective older brother, where is he now? Why isn’t he here rescuing you?” Matías said, trailing the knife down your neck, to your collarbone.

You were too scared to answer, not sure if he actually wanted an answer, or if he was just taunting you. That was, until you felt the edge of the blade start to break the skin, a warm trickle of blood running down.

“I believe I asked you a question Y/N. Where is your brother?”

“I…I…don’t k-know.”

Drawing out the cut, thinking it had to be at least two inches long by now, “Would you like to try that again?”

“I don’t!” You were crying by this point, tears pouring down your cheeks, making lines in the dirt that covered your face.

He stopped. Seeming to believe you. For now.

Dragging the blade across your skin, trying to pick his next spot, choosing the opposite side of your clavicle, “Why did he take my son?”

Tread carefully…

“He…he didn’t. He was a d-doctor,” you inhaled sharply between sobs trying to get air in your lungs. “He found children that needed help after the earthquake…”

The knife hadn’t pierced you yet, and he wasn’t saying anything, so you decided to keep talking.

“He told me th-that he tried to save all the kids…b-but there was one that was too badly hurt…”

You felt the blade start to dig into you; you knew he didn’t like what you were saying. Whether he believed you and was upset by the events, or he still thought you were lying; you couldn’t be sure.

“Please! This is the truth!” you got out between heavy sobs.

But it was too late. Another cut, to your shoulder this time. You screamed out, knowing that you couldn’t be heard, and not because it was overly painful. Your body had been doing a decent job at keeping you numb to the pain, silently thanking the adrenaline that was coursing through you.

Matías walked moved slowly behind you, growling low in his throat. “No.” Cut. “He took him.” Cut. “He took my son!” Another two cuts across your back. His anger was back, loud, unwilling to believe anything you had to say. Feeling helpless and hopeless, you just let him do what he wanted, more pressure on your wrists as your body started to slump down.

God, just help me get out of here alive.

Matías stopped in front of you, placing the blade below your neck, lifting your chin so you were looking him in the eyes, cutting deep enough to do some damage, but not so deep that you bled out. He was right in your face, whispering low, “This is all for Elías. Remember this.” Not that you would actually be able to forget.

He spent the next several minutes dragging the blade into your skin, slowly; making sure you felt each and every cut. Making sure that they were deep enough to leave a mark, so that you would see the scares every day after. He was right, he never did touch your face or hands, and he never cut you deep enough to kill you. Although at this rate, you almost wished he did.

You stayed quiet, letting him do what he needed to do to seek useless revenge for his son.

This went on for two days. The third day you were trapped in that godforsaken place, he spent his time reopening every single wound he had made the days before.

You were hungry, thirsty, covered in dried blood, sweat and tears. You felt like your actual soul was broken. You were hanging here, damaged and broken, knowing your brother was gone; thinking it was just a matter of time before you were meeting the same fate.

The cuts he made covered your back and shoulders, collarbone and chest, went all the way up your arms to your wrists. He made you watch those ones, especially the ones that he made when he got to your wrists and seeing the previous scar tissue. You cried out when he cut you there, careful not to go too deep, but over those scars he knew he didn’t have to do much to cause the damage. The chains had done most of it, and scar tissue was always more sensitive the second time around.

He saw tattoo on your arm, the one that you and Jonathan shared. The knife dragged over to it, Matías laughing to himself.

“You know, I’ve seen this tattoo before. Only…it was here…” he said, dragging the blade up to your shoulder, right where Jonathan’s tattoo was. When he got to the same spot, you felt the knife dig in, crying out again, not just at the pain, but also at the thought that this man had this hands on your brother doing the same thing he’s doing to you. You were holding on to any hope at this point that Jonathan was still alive somewhere, trying to fight the denial that was slowly creeping in your mind.

He moved the blade back to your tattoo, “It’s only fair we keep them matching, right? Besides, what’s the point of a matching tattoo with a brother you don’t have anymore?” as he cut a line through the Celtic knot that was in your skin.

Your body fought on that one, it jerked, not really having a plan of action nor the strength to cause him harm. But between the force of your body against the chains around your wrists, it had been enough to dislocate your shoulder, making you cry out again.

The pain was too much this time, your body was starting to shut down, you could only hope it was its way of protecting you, and that it didn’t mean you were dying.

You heard another set of footsteps come in the room, sounding like they were so far away, asking for Matías, whispering something about letting you go, that there was enough on them to find them if they kept going.

Walking back over to you slowly, he took what seemed to be a hot coal, from somewhere behind you, not sure where the heat source was. He was standing in front of you again, holding it with a pair of pliers in his left hand, the small knife in his right.

“Well darling, it looks like it’s time for you to go. As promised, your face or your hands are just fine. But you will never forget this. I promise you that.”

As the words were spoken the coal seared the skin on your left forearm, followed by the knife slicing into your left thigh. You were screaming as loud as your body would allow for the state it was in. The last thing you remember was hearing that god-awful creature tell you that no one would hear you down here.

And then everything was black.

---

You heard beeping, a steady beep, but you didn’t know where it was coming from. Slowly you started to hear more noises as you came to. There was a man talking to people, not being able to tell yet that they were nurses and doctors. You swore you had heard that voice before, that you knew it, it was familiar. Then you heard him speaking in English, but only hearing one side of the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m here now…it’s bad sweetie…I’m going to stay with her until we’re back in Vancouver…I don’t know…cuts, bruises, dislocated shoulder…she was starved, dehydrated…she’ll be home soon…I’ll tell her…Love you too, Bri.”

Bri. He was talking to Briana. He said he loved her. Jose?

The beeping was getting faster. You could hear a commotion around the room but you couldn’t wake up. You wanted so much to wake up and see what was going on. See if it really was José, what you would give to open your eyes right now.

They didn’t. The world stayed black and went radio silent again.

Sometime later you heard the man’s voice again. “She’s still out…nurse had to give her a little more sedative…she should be awake soon…I will tell you the second it happens…”

You fought so hard to tell him you were here. You tried shouting for him, shouting for Briana on the other end of the line. But all that came out was a faint little whimper that should have made you embarrassed at your efforts, but it was enough to get his attention.

“Briana I have to go, I think she’s waking up!”

“Y/N, honey, open your eyes.”

His hands were warm on your cheek. You wanted so bad to see the man who took you in to his family over the course of being friends with Briana. You fought yourself, so hard, willing yourself to wake up.

And then you saw him. Those eyes that you saw in their daughter whenever she was around. The eyes that were always strong were now scared and filled with tears, giving you words of encouragement and praise for waking up.

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#love heals the soul #jensen x reader #spn

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