Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything you might read associated with it. I only own the lovely Mackenzie.
First story! Constructive criticism would be appreciated, but I'll just be happy if someone reads it.
Prologue
I wake up to feel a sharp pain in my neck and lower back, but I don't mind it. You get used to it when you sleep on cement every night.
No, I'm serious. I literally sleep on the sidewalk.
I haven't always been homeless. I used to have a family and a place to call home. But my parents and older brother, Oliver, died when I was eight.
My name is Mackenzie Jacobson. I'm seventeen years old. I was raised to be a hunter. My parents weren't like most hunter parents, though. They tried their hardest to give me and Oliver a semi-normal life, so they only went on hunts that would keep them in or around the city. They would only bring me and Oliver with them if they knew they would need lots of help. I never needed to worry about them because they always came home safe.
My parents' last hunt involved a rugaru that was terrorizing the city. My parents didn't want me and Oliver to come along on the hunt because they already had some extra hands helping them out. This also wasn't just some D-list hunt. This bastard was brutal. Childish as I was, I really wanted to help and I put up such a fight. "You treat me like a baby!" I yelled at them as they were leaving. The turned back and gave me looks of extreme sadness, almost like they knew that would be the last thing I would ever say to them.
They left me with Oliver and that was the end of the argument. Half a day passed by, and they still hadn't come back home. Oliver, who was ten years older than me, decided to leave me by myself and go after Mom and Dad to see if they were okay. He promised me that he would be back soon, but about three hours later, the police showed up at my front door and told me that my family was gone.
They took me to the city's local orphanage and I was stuck in that damp, smelly, gray building for the next seven years of my life. I was a loner. I spent a lot of my time in the city's public library researching demons and spirits. I had decided that I was going to get my revenge. I wasn't going to sit around like a helpless little bitch, begging God to bring my family back to me. I taught myself spells and I was able to get a few weapons from local dealers. There was a tavern in my city that a lot of hunters stopped at and I was also usually able to swipe a few knives and guns from there. After about two years of collecting my supplies and studying my incantations, I felt I was ready to kill some evil sons of bitches.
For the rest of my time at the orphanage, I snuck out on occasion to hunt around the city. After a while, I got bored with staying in the area because there wasn't always a lot of action going on. I began to hitchhike to other cities and states, but I always ended up back in my own city. However, I snuck out so much and caused so many problems for the workers at the orphanage that they decided to simply get rid of me. They drove me out to the middle of nowhere and kicked me out of the car onto the side of the road with my things when I was only fifteen years old.
I decided I never wanted to go back to that place, so I never told anyone about the incident. For two years now, I've been homeless, moving across the country by foot, bus, or truck, having to fend for myself. I usually stay in a town for a week until the locals start getting tired of me, but it's not as awful as you would think. People have a lot of sympathy for a poor, helpless, homeless child. I do swipe items from pockets on occasion. Sometimes, I even sing in an attempt to get extra bills. And I still hunt. Whenever possible. I have a gray duffel bag with me at all times that holds my weapons, spells, and necessities.
~0~0~0~
A week ago, I had to deal with a shape shifter in a town outside of Summit, South Dakota. Those freaks are tough. Luckily, this one was a little weak, but the fight still wore me out. I decided to stay in the city for a bit until my full strength came back. For the past few days, I've just been sitting on the sidewalk, lying against a dirty building with a fast-food cup in front of me that I pulled out of the dumpster. I try to look sick and helpless, hoping to bring out the sympathy in people. I decide I need to get some shut-eye, but not too much. I don't want another homeless bastard snatching my hard earned coins. So I close one eye at a time and glance at my cup every so often.