I stared out the window of the cottage that my father rents, it's not big but it'll do since we're only staying for a couple of days. I hear a crash coming from my dad's room and I turn my head towards the sound.
"Everything okay, papa?" I ask loudly, half caring. I get a grunt in a response and I roll my eyes, he has never been much of a talker, just kind of a yeller. My dad walks out of the room and he has dark circles underneath his eyes, his hair is all messed up along with his shirt and his breath reeks of alcohol.
I sigh, "Papa, you were up drinking again haven't you?" I hold out a mint and he takes it.
"That's none of your concern, young lady." He says, running his hands through his hair.
"I'm just trying to be helpful," I say defensively and he gives me a look.
"If you really want to be helpful you'd shut up and clean out the guns."
I sigh, "Yes, papa."
I turn my attention back to the guns in front me and take out the lubricant. I take the clip out of the first pistol and check to make sure there are no rounds stuck in the barrel or in the chamber. I continue doing the normal procedure for cleaning out the guns and after about an hour or so, all the guns are cleaned and polished nicely. My dad walks out looking decent, I know he has to go out again so I pack up his duffle bag with all he needs and hands it to him.
"Where's the shotgun shells full of salt?" He asks and I do a silent curse, I had forgotten to fill the shells with salt. I'm screwed.
"I-uh, I was busy cleaning the guns I had forgotten to fill them," I say sheepishly, looking down at my feet. I never look into my father's eyes when he's angry because he takes that as a challenge.
"Dammit!" He says, "When I tell you to get my stuff ready, I expect you to do it right!"
I nod, still looking at my feet. I hadn't realized I was blocking the way to the desk where we refill and clean the guns until my dad pushes me and says "Out of my way,".
"Sorry, papa," I say to my feet and he turns to me.
"What was that?" He says
I gulp, "I, um, said sorry." and he walks towards me.
"I thought we went over this, you call me 'sir' not 'papa' or 'dad'. You understand me?"
I nod, "Yes, Sir," I say. He smiles to himself and ruffles my hair.
"Good girl, I'll have to deal with giving you an attitude adjustment later, though. You're lucky I have to go on a hunt right now." He says, it was almost like a warning and I knew I'd be hurtin' by tomorrow morning.
"Yes, sir," I say, still looking at my feet.
He walks out of the cottage and slams the door, I jump when I hear it slam but then I let out a breath of relief. He won't be back until late tomorrow morning, this is my chance. I run into my room and start getting all my clothes, undergarments, shampoo, conditioner and anything else I might need while I'm away. I take out a secret stash of money I've saved up from my job at the car repair shop. There's around $300 in there, enough for a couple of meals at a dinner and maybe, if I'm lucky, a place to stay. I get my duffle bag, which is now full of all my stuff, and close my door on the way out. I make sure to leave the rest of the cottage how it was before, grabbing a pistol on the table and stuffing it in my bag, and I leave the cottage and lock the door behind me.
I walk around the cottage walking through the woods trying to find a pathway or something. I come alongside a campsite and there are two tents but it looks abandoned. I walk closer, something isn't right, and I notice that the tents are ripped. I let out a small gasp and shine a flashlight I pulled out of my bag, there was blood on the floor and the tents had blood splattered over them. The sleeping bags and food were all still there, so this isn't some...prank. I hear the roar of an engine coming closer and I run and hide behind a bush. The car stops in front of the campsite and two men get out, one really tall and one shorter. I couldn't get a good look at their facial features because it was dark out but I can see them, just barely, walking around and examining the campsite just as I had done. I reach into my bag and slowly, and quietly, pull out the pistol I had brought along.
I start to load it but the click was audible enough for the two men to hear and stop dead in their tracks.
"Did you hear that?" The tall one asks, loading his own gun.
"Yup." The shorter one replied, taking his gun out as well.
I stay still for what seemed like hours and I watch them walk around cautiously, guns ready at any moment. I try not to make a sound, no moving, barely breathing, and stay still, that's what my dad always taught me to do in situations like this. After what seemed like hours but what probably just minutes, I see the short one shrug to the taller one and they put their guns away. I let out a silent breath of relief, but don't put down my gun.
"What do you think happened here?" The tall one asks
"I don't know. Maybe it was a false call? A bear?" The shortest one says and I laugh. Shit. They freeze again, Why the hell not?, I think.
"A bear? Realy?" I say, half laughing as I come out from the bush. I have my gun pointed to the ground but they aim their guns at me as soon as I stepped out of the bush.
"Who the hell are you?" The short one asks and I glare at him.
"You see, that is none of your business, shortie," I say and walk towards the tent.
"This is obviously a Wendigo attack. Think about it, the tents ripped, people missing, blood trails that end abruptly. Wendigo. Case closed and you can go home now." I say giving a fake smile.
"How the hell do you know that?" The tall one asks and I laugh.
"Listen here, Sasquatch, this ain't no story-tellin' time. I don't have to tell you anything. M'kay?"
"Oof, the spunk she has." Shortie says and I give him a death glare then he raises his hands in surrender, "Just joking,"
"What are you doing out in the woods this time at night anyway?" Sasquatch asks me.
Just then, before I could answer with my sass attack, I hear a familiar roar of my dad's engine pulling up to the cottage.
"Shit!" I say.
"What?" They both ask and then I grimace as I hear a loud roar, this time coming from my dad.
"What the hell was that?" Sasquatch asks
"That's not a what, that's a who. And that who happens to be the reason I'm here in the first place."
"Please, I know I've been a sassy bitch but I need to get away from here. ASAP." I say, pleading, hearing the roars continue.
"Kid, what in the world-" Shortie starts but I cut him off.
"Please," I beg, "just, let me ride with you until I find a bus stop or motel. I just, can't stay here anymore. Please," I beg, tears filling my eyes.
They look at each other than nod, "Okay," Sasquatch says, "but you need to tell us what the hell is going on!" and I nod.
"Get in, kiddo," Shortie says and I enter the car.
"Nice. A 1967 Chevy Impala, a classic car." I say when I'm in the backseat. They both turn around and look at me in surprise.
"I work, well worked, at a car repair shop," I say answering their unasked question.
"Huh, well okay," Shortie says from the driver's seat and turns back around
We've been on the road for a while when Sasquatch decides to start interrogating me.
"So, kid, you wanna tell us what that was about?" He asks and I shrug.
"Listen, Sasquatch, I'm gonna make this simple for you. I wanted to get away and I have a damned well reason too." I hear Shortie laugh and say "She told you."
"Oh shut up Shortie," I say and this time Sasquatch laughs.
"Where you gonna stay kiddo?" Shortie asks me, and I could tell he's a little irritated.
"Dunno," I say, shrugging and they share a look.
"You didn't really plan this whole 'running away' thing out did you?" Shortie asks me and I shrug.
"Listen, I just did what I needed to do so I could get out of the hellhole, k? Yeah, I didn't exactly plan ahead that far but all that mattered to me was getting out," I say, they look at each other.
"Well, you could stay with us for a couple of days and we could be able to help you get back on your feet," Sasquatch says.
"Thanks, Sasquatch. You and your boyfriend are alright people." I say and they cringe.
"Okay, first of all, my name is Sam and this is my brother Dean," Sasquatch says and I shrug.
"We're brothers okay? BROTHERS." Sam says, speaking the last word slowly.
"Okay, the first thing about me, I'm not a three-year-old who doesn't understand what words mean, 'kay? Don't talk to me like I'm stupid." I say and they chuckle.
"How old are ya anyways, kid?" Shortie, Dean, asks me.
"16. And I have a name ya know." I say
"No, actually I don't know. You haven't told us what your name is anyways, kiddo." Dean says.
"Stop calling me kid, or kiddo," I say
"Tell us what your name is then," Dean says
"No," I say
"Okay then, kiddo,"
"I said to stop calling me kiddo!"
"Name?" He asks once more and I sigh.
"Fine. Nuna," I say, they glance at each other
"What's your full name?" Sam asks.
"Well, my first name is Nuna and the last name is Business, Nuna Business," I say and laugh a little when I hear their frustrated groans.
"You are a feisty one, huh kiddo?" Dean asks and I groaned.
"Stop calling me kiddo!" I yell and Sam turns around to face me.
"Just tell us your damn name kid."
"Fine!" I say, giving in, "Fine, my name is L'oreal Kendra-Beth Knight. My dad is Thomas Knight. People call me Lorie." I say and I hear them groan.
"Your dad's a hunter, huh?" Sam asks and I nod
"Yup," I say, "he's not that great though. He's always letting them go or he screws it up and can't get 'em."
"Oh, we know." Dean says, "We're usually the ones cleaning up his messes."
I shrug, "Oh well," I say.
After a while of silence, Dean turns on classic Rock N' Roll and I drift to sleep listening to sound of "Eye of the Tiger" playing on the radio.