Hey guys... it's been a while...
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A rainy day
Sam's perspective.
"Ah... crap..." I pick up the napkin, wiping the salad sauce away from my shirt. I shake my head... that was my last clean shirt... and I have no money left for my laundry. I have spent my last dollars on the salad and the coke, that were standing in front of me...
Making a face, I try to come up with a plan to ask Dean when he would do his laundry again, without actually speaking to him.
I huff and begin to text my brother.
-Hey... when do you want to do your laundry?-
It's meant as a try to make up with him, too... well rather as a question to know whether he is mad... I lay my cell on the table, grimacing at the salad and taking a sip of my coke.
-Where are you... bitch?-
I smile... we're okay...
-I'll be back soon... 's dad gone already?-
I bite my lip. My week has been a living hell... Monday... we have moved again... to Florida... in summer... to hunt some... well...spirits... At least I have thought so... it has been the first time that I was allowed to do all the research... and apparently I have screwed up...
We still don't know what it was... now dad is after the thing... without me... because he couldn't trust a failure like me, without the protection of my big brother...
Yeah... that is the worst part right now... Dean is pretty injured. Because of me... His whole right hip has been ripped open. Now he has to stay at home...
Because of me...
And dad was mad... I have been careless and now I have to pay for it.
I hate fighting with dad... especially when Dean ends up in the middle of the fight. Today, I've needed to get out... so I've ran away... waiting for my dad to leave the motel.
That's how I've ended up in this... bar.
-Dad's gone... he's found all the clues. God... you're annoying...-.-....-
I wince, knowing that Dean and dad were fighting now, too... perhaps we're not okay...
Sometimes I wonder why Dean still cares for me... when I'm screwing everything up.
I stand up, leaving the bar to head back to the motel.
Ahh... damn...
I let out a frustrated sigh, stepping out into the rain. Just peachy... now my jeans would get wet, too...
Without any protection from the rain, I run back to the motel, not seeing a big... muddy puddle.
Damn again!
I cry out.
Loud.
"Hey boy... you shouldn't be out here when there is a thunderstorm going on..." A man shouts at me, from his car, passing by.
I just shake my head. Smartass, I'm trying to get to the motel.
I am about to go further when an other car drives through the big puddle...
Yey.... my shoes.... Thanks so much...
Today's not my day...
Not my week....
Not my month...
Not my whatever....
God... I hate this life.
I really hate this life.
I don't even have friends here....
The only person I could actually talk to would be my brother. But right now I couldn't even talk with him.
My father is mad at me... probably thinking about leaving me behind somewhere...
I'm even screwing up in school right now, since we move this often.
I hate this life.
......
Panting I stay in front of the door to our apartment. Rain drips from my nose, my lips and my clothes. I don't know what to expect when I get inside. I hope that I just can sneak into the second floor, maybe Dean has the TV loud enough to not hear me... or he might just ignore me.
But honestly...
This week can't get any worse.
Everything sucks anyway.
I hate this life.
Uncomfortably picking on my wet shirt that was glued to my chest, I opened the door, a nervous feeling in my guts...
"Oh... wha..." I stammer, seeing my wounded brother sitting on the bottom of the stairs, right in front of the door, a smile on his face and clothes in his hands in his lap.
"Hey kid." Dean struggles to stand up and actually lets me help him. "You look... like crap... is it raining?" He asks with a smug innocence.
I roll my eyes, but smile back at him.
"Thanks" He whispers, handing me the clothes. "I figured that you need something to change and you have nothing left."
"Thanks... Dean... I'm..." I try to apologize, gripping the soft clothes tightly. He really gives me his favourite sweatpants and one of his shirts.
"Shut up, go and change." Dean says gently, shaking his head and patting my shoulder, limping into the kitchen. "When your done upstairs, come down... I'm making hot chocolate."
I smile... for the first time in about one week.
Somehow Dean really achieves to make me feel good in the worst moments.
"And Sammy...." He shouts, a smirk in his voice. It makes me smile immediately, while I waited for him to continue, not seeing his face. "I'm not gonna clean up when you're making everything wet... so try to avoid it."
I roll my eyes...
Perhaps life wasn't this bad, when I still have someone who sits in front of the door, waiting for my return with a smile on his face.
Home, sweet home....
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