Winchester ||REWRITING||

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday

"Do or do not, there is no try."

I groan as my classmate's newest attempt at "early morning motivation" comes up on my feed.

"Your inspirational quote has inspired me to unfriend you." I mutter, tossing my phone on the bed next to me. It's not that I didn't believe in being motivated or whatever, I just strongly believe that motivation is a post-coffee activity. I stare at my ceiling, humming a random tune to myself and absently drawing pictures in my mind. Fantastical landscapes and gentle creatures blossomed before me, making me wish I hadn't run out of canvas a few weeks ago. Before I know it, an hour has passed and I can hear the sluggish noises of Dad moving around downstairs. I quickly sit up and hide my phone that Dad strictly forbid, scrambling to run downstairs and meet him.

"Im sorry sir, I got distracted. Your breakfast will be ready soon." I say, examining his face for any signs of acknowledgement. He grunts and shoves me into the counter on his way to the couch. I wince in pain as my already sore ribs bruise against the counter. Memories of the night before clouded my mind, when I'd gotten home from school a little late and been reminded of curfew with a swift punch to the side. I quietly trudge over to the liqour cabinet and grab the vodka, taking a long pull before setting it on the counter. I cough slightly, wincing as the sharp liquid burned my throat. I grab the orange juice and a glass, mixing the two liquids and dropping a few ice cubes in. Any other day and I'd be done, but it's my birthday goddamnit and I'm in a good mood. I hesitate and glance in the living room, deciding if it's worth making any change to our routine. Maybe he'd remember that today means something and be nice. I dig around for a loaf of edible bread and cheer silently when I find some. I hum to myself as I wait for the toaster to pop, catching the hot bread and buttering it.

"Almost done." I call to him. I wash one of the few nice plates we have, double checking it's one of the new ones and not one of moms. I grab his morning liver killer and head to the living room where he's already fixated in front of the tv.

"I thought maybe you could try a little... Food. With your breakfast." I say, trying to be peppy and not resemble a human punching bag. I look him over, taking in his sunken eyes and pale complexion. According to the photo albums, John Winchester used to be a force to be reckoned with. He was a tall broad threat of a man, but always had a soft glint to his eyes. That version of Dad had died with Mom though. He slowly turns towards me, glancing at the plate as his sour expression started to shake with rage.

"If I wanted food, I would've ASKED for food." He yelled, his voice escalating quickly as he smashed the plate. I hold back the whimper that wanted to crawl out of my throat and back against the wall. He looks at the pile of debris and quickly grabs a sharp looking piece, holding it to my neck. "Idiot" I think to myself. How could I think my birthday would mean anything to him. No matter how weak and fragile he looks, he will always have the speed and precision of a hunter, and it was foolish of me to think I could alter our carefully executed routine.

"Do better next time" he snarls as he slowly carves a line into my neck. I cry out as I feel warm blood trickle out, which was my biggest mistake.

"You. Do. Not. Make. Noise." He spits out, pulling me up by my hair. "You are a failure. Take your punishment." He says, digging the glass into my side. Every muscle in my body strains to not scream out in pain, but I stay quiet as he drops me to the ground, my head solidly landing on the coffee table. My vision rebels against me and I take deep breaths as I wait for it to return.

"Im sorry, sir. I will do better." I apologize. He grunts and turns back to the tv, already forgetting about me. When my vision returns, I crawl up to my room and into the bathtub in my attached bathroom. I finally quietly let out the suppressed noises of pain as I drag myself into the bathtub.

Happy birthday to me." I mumble, the tears finally slipping out.

rewritten