Sam sat on the unmade motel bed and stared with blank eyes at sun shining through the grimy window.

Slowly he reached out a hand towards the golden light, hoping to feel the sun's warmth, hoping to feel something, anything.

But he felt nothing.

He supposed that it made sense, to feel nothing on the outside when he felt so bad inside.

It was as though there was a massive hole inside of him, drawing in all feelings of happiness, contentment and self-assurance; spewing out sadness, doubt and loneliness instead.

He couldn't do anything right. Never could and never would.

At least that is what it felt like some days.

He was a failure. And it seemed as though the people who were supposed to be there for him- his father and brother- were always the ones to tell him so.

But not today.

Sam wouldn't fail at this.

Drawing his hand back away from the sunlight shining buttery-yellow rays through the window, he picked up the knife sitting beside him on the mattress.

Pulling down the sleeve of his shirt, Sam exposed the skin of his left wrist. Raising the knife, he stared for a moment as though fascinated by it: the blade six inches long and razor-thin, serrated, it reflected the light coming in through the grimy window.

Gently at first, than harder, Sam pushed the edge the knife against his arm, ruby-red beads of blood welling up against the silvery blade.

Author's Note:

Fanfic title comes from a Pearl Jam song of the same name.

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