A shrilling, blood curdling scream escaped my lips. My eyes squeezed shut, in hope and desperation it will all end now. "S-stop!" I pleaded in-between screams. "Now, tell me, what do you know about yourself?" He demanded, bending down to come eye to eye with me. His intimidating gaze sent shivers down my spine. Before, I was petrified of the thought of death. I was facing it head on, but this time I welcomed it, even wanted it. 

My eyes slowly carried up to meet his dark ones, "Go to Hell," I whispered hoarsely. Sweat beaded my forehead, dripping onto my clothes. I barely possessed the strength to wipe it off with my arm, considering Crowley hasn't given me food or water for a couple days. He has been trying many new methods that seemed absurd to me, to force me to speak. So far, nothing has worked, and he has been more than furious by my insubordination. Crowley chuckled, "I guess you are a stubborn one." He shook his head in amusement. I didn't know how much longer I could take of his kind of torture before I spilled everything. What he doesn't know is he has been torturing me the wrong way. If he tortured me using my weakness, hurting my friends and family, I'd become an open book. I was simply thankful he didn't know my weakness's nor strengths. 

Before I could blink, another needle was piercing through my head, as another scream filled the air. "Shut up," he mumbled, covering his ears once the needle reached the other end. The agony of the needles made my vision become dotted. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. The thought was the only thing I could solely focus on. My breathing was labored, as I observed Crowley's motives, not that I could possibly accomplish a thing by doing so. I saw his mouth move, but I could hear no words escape. All I could hear was my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Trying to avert my attention on something else, I decided to focus on my breathing.

More needles were shoved in forcefully, his shouts becoming inaudible as I slowly began to lose consciousness.

"9...10! Ready or not, here I come!" My younger self yelled playfully. The young girl ran around the forest in hope to find someone. She closed her green eyes, trying to hone in on her angel senses but failing. Sighing in defeat, she carried on her search. "Castiel!" She called out into the warm, sunny air. She noticed a familiar trench coat flail in the wind, slightly hidden behind a tree. The girl giggled, eyes wide with happiness. She dashed towards him, "Found you!" She pointed at Castiel who smiled. "Yes, you did," he remarked like a proud father.

Waking up with a moan, seeing Crowley disappear sent fear into my gut. When was he going to come back? "Someone awake?" Asked Larkin alarmed. My eyes narrowed at him, as I tried to blink away the blur. I tried to answer, my voice croaky and hoarse, no words escaping. Water. I needed the ice, cold, substance that would quench my thirst, granting me the privileged to speak. "Can't talk?" He questioned, already knowing the answer. "Don't give up hope, Essence. That is the only thing that can save you. It's a fragile, precious thing that is not meant to be crushed. Hope is humanity, so grip it tight." And with that, Crowley opened the door, bringing a large glass of clear water.

"Don't talk," he ordered Larkin, who instantly obliged, clamping his mouth shut. "If you want this, try giving an answer. What do you know about yourself?" I needed the water. It was survival, but I couldn't say anything or it could end myself and many others. He began slowly tipping the cup, water spilling out of it carelessly. With a slosh to the ground, I felt more thirst than I was before. My mouth was parched, begging for the liquid. Once the last drop was empty, he inspected me carefully. "You are something else," he mumbled carefully. "I'll be back," he promised, before sauntering out the door in thought. I need hope, I thought before I again fell into a restless sleep full of nightmares and terror.