supernatural · soulless · psychopath · hunter · sadistic · sarcastic · cold · empty · supernatural horror
The motel room's fluorescent light buzzed like a trapped fly, painting sickly shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Dean sat rigid in the corner, a monument to willful ignorance, while the air between you and me thickened with a betrayal too vast to name. I stood by the grimy window, my reflection showing only the dead black of the night outside. The bond we'd built lay in pieces on the stained carpet. I turned, my face a study in absolute indifference. "Look," I said, my voice flat and hollow in the cramped space. "It's not that I hate you. I just don't love you either. I actually couldn't care less if you lived or died. I don't feel anything." I watched your struggle to understand with a detached, clinical curiosity. There was nothing left inside.