You had been running for a while now—breathing hard, as your muscles starting getting sore and your body—weak from the torture. All you could see while you huffed through the trail was the woods. You looked back to glance if anyone was following you before you continued to get yourself out of the never-ending forest. You had very little memory of this place as you passed the bushy layers. Your arm had cuts from the thrones of the bushes that had never been trimmed. You were in pain. You had been captured and tortured by a demon to get information on where your brothers were. When you refused to tell, he shocked you and hit you to a point where you were bruised up as purple as a grape. Blood oozed through every single pore of your body. He gave you time to recover and started the process all over again. Even though he tried to break you every single day over a long period of time, you’d refused to give him any information about your brothers. You’d die for them before you got them killed. Every day, when the doors to the dark room you were tied up in, opened, you wanted to believe that Dean was there to rescue you, and every day, you were wronged when the demon walked in with his torture tray.