Hey everyone! I have a couple of things to point out about this story.
1. Please note that any italics in the story are either thoughts or flashbacks. Usually flashbacks will be separated from the rest of the text with a horizontal page break. Thoughts will not be separate.
2. I LOVE REVIEWS! They fuel me and inspire me to continue writing. Seriously, you can ask me questions or give me tips or tell me about your day. I love hearing from you guys.
3. I am only a sophomore in high school. I make mistakes. If you see one, please tell me about it so that I can fix it.
4. I occasionally ask for reader opinions if I need help figuring out where to take the story. Please help! I like giving you guys what you want. I also welcome requests for things that you want to see happen.
5. I do not own any of the Supernatural characters. I wish I did, but sadly that is not the case.
Alright... I think that's it. Enjoy!
The first thing that registers when I wake up is that someone is shaking me. I snatch my gun from beneath my pillow in one fluid motion and point it at whoever is touching my arm. Wide blue eyes meet my own, startled and a bit scared. I drop the gun.
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, honey. C'mere." I say, and my little sister unfreezes and crawls into bed next to me. She settles her head against my chest and her red hair tickles my nose.
"Are you still hurt?" She asks. The words are muffled and sleepy, but they still make me stiffen. I reach up and gently smooth my hand over her hair, hugging her closer to me.
"Nah, Em. I'm good. Big sisters are immortal, remember?"
"You were bleeding."
"You should've seen the other guy…" I say, closing my eyes.
"I don't get it, Logan."
"That's alright, Emily. Just go to sleep."
"'Kay."
Within minutes, I hear her breathing even out and I shift away from her. The morning air nips at my bare legs as I silently stand and began to get ready for the day, showering quickly under a weak dribble of barely warm water and getting dressed. Emily is still asleep when I come back into the room, so I pack her things into the little purple suitcase that she begged me to get for her a couple months back. It wasn't cheap, but with the help of half of our grocery money, I'd been able to buy it. I didn't eat for a few days after that, but the look of pure happiness on her face had made my aching stomach worth it.
After her bag is packed, I shove my few belongings into my stained duffel bag and gently shake my sister awake.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Dad will be mad if he sees that you're not up yet."
"It's cold though." I frown and throw a glance at the broken window above the bed, silently cursing it.
"You can have my coat until you warm up." I say, shrugging off the warm fleece-lined jacket, which is probably the nicest piece of clothing that I own. I wrap the garment around Emily's shoulders and swoop her up in my arms, swinging her around the room and tickling her until she's laughing and giggling so hard that her face turns red. Then I set her down and shoo her off to take a shower. She scampers away to the bathroom, leaving me standing in my room wearing nothing but jeans and a tee-shirt. I shiver.
Dad will be mad if he sees that you're not up yet.
"Why the fuck are you still in bed, Logan? It's six o'clock! Get the fuck up, you lazy piece of shit! God, you're so fucking worthless, Logan. I must have fucked up raising you." My dad yells, grabbing my shirt and dragging me off of the bed. I don't make a sound as his boot connects with my ribs.
"Worthless. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit. Sorry. Excuse. For. A. Hunter." Each word is accentuated with a kick, and soon I'm lost in the pain, my head swimming and my vision fading in and out. I hardly notice when the blows stop landing, barely register the sound of heavy footsteps disappearing out the front door and down the steps. I feel little hands on my face.
"Hey, Em." I say. My voice sounds like shit.
"You're bleeding, Logan."
"Logan?" Emily asks quietly. I shake myself out of my memories and focus on the little girl in front of me. Her hair is wet and she's wrapped up in my coat again.
"Yes, love?"
"Dad's awake."
I draw a deep breath and plaster on my most convincing smile.
"Alright. I'm gonna go make him some coffee. Why don't you stay up here and get dressed? Make sure you wear something warm."
"Can I keep your jacket?"
"Sure, Emily."
She goes over to her suitcase and starts digging through it. I linger for a moment, watching to make sure she doesn't pull out a dress or something else that's not at all warm, and then turn and make my way towards the kitchen.
My dad is standing at the sink, head tilted back as he drinks from a bottle of Jack. My heart falls.
"Good morning, sir." I make sure my voice is steady and loud enough for him to hear clearly, but not too loud. He grunts in reply and slams the bottle onto the counter top. I flinch involuntarily as he turns to face me.
"You forgot to salt the attic window last night."
I lower my eyes. Last night was a mess. After being beaten for yet another thing that I managed to screw up, I had stumbled around doing everything within my power to not pass out as I tried to remember the location of all the windows in the house.
"We could've been killed. Emily could have been slaughtered in her bed, and it would have been your fault, Logan. You're such a fuck up. You can't even keep your sister safe."
I look at my shoes. The words sting.
Emily could've been killed. You could've gotten her killed. You're worthless. Emily deserves better. You have nothing to offer her but a stupid purple suitcase that cost twenty five bucks and an oversized jacket from a thrift store somewhere in North Carolina.
My dad steps closer to me, and I resist the urge to back away.
"Lucky for you, I don't have time to punish your sorry ass right now. We're supposed to leave in an hour. Make me some coffee and cook Emily some breakfast. And do something about your face. It's all fucked up from last night."
"Yes sir." I say, and duck out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror tells me that my dad wasn't lying about my face being fucked up. I'm sporting a huge bruise on my cheek and a cut just above my right eyebrow. I pull out the foundation makeup that I keep in my toiletry bag and begin to dab it generously onto my face. It's going to be a long day.