Disclaimer-
This story was made in conjunction with Miss Fait's. This is not a rip off of her story, just the sides of it that I wrote. It was Miss Fait who finally coaxed me into posting this story. Thus, the Winchester's are not my creation; I simply enjoy the pleasure of their company.
-Hello My name is Charlene Leigh Winchester, but all my friends call me Charlie. I want to tell you my story in case I am no longer there to tell it. Who knows how long you can survive in this kind of situation, luckily I am not alone. But that's a story you should know from the beginning. Please keep an open mind; I know this isn't something that's typical, though if you've seen what I have, you'll have absolutely no doubts.
I am a hunter, and I've killed before, but what I hunt may be what astonishes you.
C h a p t e r 1-
-I don't remember much about my younger days. I was born to Michael and Katherine Abet on August 13. I honestly don't remember which year, just that it was a Friday. I just remember that since I was little I had always been able to see things, generally the future, though a few images or clips of the past snuck in. I remember the first vision I ever had, it appeared to me in a dream, which was typical of my younger years. In this dream, I remember seeing myself from a third-person view, across a major street. There were many cars driving by at a slower time pace than normal. I joined my body and looked across the street to see my mom walking out of a building that looked like a bank. She looked upset, like she had been crying. She wasn't paying attention to the ground in front of her, just digging around in her purse. She fell down a flight of about 10 stairs, and broke her arm. I woke up crying; after all I think I was only 5 at the time. My dad comes rushing in to comfort me but I can't tell him what happened. The next morning, I told my mother to avoid stairs- that if she went to the bank that she needed to watch out for the stairs. She ignored me and fell down them and broke her arm.
It continued like this for years, but I never told anyone. I wasn't even sure what to make of it. I was 8 when I had a vision about a girl, a new student at the school I was attending. Something told me to be friends with her, that I could trust her and tell her my secret. A week later there she was, Alexandra, I called her Ally. The day I met her I invited her to my house, told her I knew we were supposed to meet. She believed me. She came to my house that night, we had dinner with my family, and she spent the night. Before we went to bed I told her everything. I told her about the visions, I told her things about herself just to prove it. I saw almost everything; at least I thought I had. Plus, my visions seemed to always stay in my dreams; I never really had any outward visions.
Anyway, our friendship was completely solid; we knew everything about one another. For my 9th birthday we had a party and Ally stayed the night. All I know is that it was after midnight, and we were both sound asleep in my bed. I was dreaming, an actual dream without a vision. All of a sudden it felt like my head exploded. I woke up and my entire body clinched, every muscle was tense, and it hurt like hell. I saw people attacking other people, blood, gore, and violence. Brutality was an understatement. I grabbed my head to make the pain stop and it only got worse. I passed out the pain was so intense. I woke up a few hours later, to my mom holding Ally and both were crying. My dad was wiping my forehead with a wet cloth. I looked around and my bed had blood on it, apparently from my nose. All I know is that was the most painful headache I had ever had. I started crying cause I couldn't remember anything, other than the blood.
-A couple months later I had that same vision again. It was in black and white, except for the blood- exactly like the first one. Again, I saw the same things, people attacking people, in horrible ways that my 9-year-old brain couldn't grasp. The pain was even more intense than before. I blacked out. This time when I wake up I'm in a bed that's clearly not my own. I'm in a hospital. There's doctors running around and I'm being transported. I look up and there's an old orderly who tells me that I just had a cat scan. Of course he explained to me what that was and why I needed it. He was very informative, and I learned a lot from him in the five-minute transport. I never heard from him again though, so I can't be sure if he was real or just a figment of my imagination… maybe even something else.
I get back to the room and my parents are clearly upset. I pretend to still be sleeping as I listen to my parents talk. They're talking about a place called "DMC." The only thing I understood about that was that it was a clinic. It was a place for kids like me who were "troubled" or "disturbed," as they kept saying. My parents were fully signed on within five minutes. At the time I had no idea what it was, but after a day it was clear. My parents had me committed. Nine years old and I was in a mental institution. I didn't understand. Why would my parents do that to me? Had I been bad? Had I done something wrong? Why did they send me away? About a week in they came to visit. They told me that they were "worried" about me. That they just wanted me to get better so I could come home to them. I told them I didn't know how to get better.
I didn't see them again for six months. That's not what was important though, in that time my visions kept coming kept getting worse and more intense. It got to the point where the doctors would sedate me just to keep me from yelling. While sedated I made a friend, a young boy who I never saw. He was always in his room, and I was separated from everyone else cause I was "too noisy." He told me that the best thing I could do is just forget what's happening. He gave me the best advice anyone ever gave me. He told me to lie, to tell everyone that I was ok now, to ignore what was happening to me. So that's what I did. I tried my hardest to control this power, and with time my visions came to me with regularity whenever, not just when I was asleep. My visions would come when they wanted to. It was painful at first, but one day the pain subsided. Any normal vision was received as if it were part of my everyday life, granted there was always an instantaneous blinding headache that alerted me to it's coming, but again it became a part of my routine. I continued to have the terrible vision about the people killing people, and that one always hurt, always continued to hurt. That pain was never dulled. It continued to make me black out after, but all that mattered was that I could fake it; I could fake being cured now.
-I spent my 10th birthday in hell. I was released about a month later. I spent a total of 385 days in the asylum. I lied, I cheated, I stole, but I didn't care, I just wanted out. I still had the visions, but I just tried to not cry out in pain every time the big one happened.
I remember the day I was released, it was snowing, a blizzard. I remember thinking that it was very odd since it would normally be sunny and warm. The drive home was horrible. We drove past my elementary school and I looked at the playground. I remember thinking how much I didn't desire to play on it anymore. I had lost my "child's will." I felt that I had lost the will to live. My parents warned me that when I came home there'd be a man there. He was living with them for a while. I was indifferent to the news, nothing surprised me anymore. I didn't know who I could trust, and I just simply wanted to be alone. But just my luck, my parents threw a welcome home party. Most of my class from school was there, Ally was of course there too, but things were different now, she couldn't understand what I had been through. None of them could. Thankfully the party was simple, just a welcome home, now get back to school type of mentality.
