Considering it was ten at night, I was walking down an alleyway in Jericho, California, and I was alone, I was walking as fast as I could.
Oh, did I mention I was five years old?
"Hey, girlie, are you all by yourself?" Some drunken guy said, waddling over to me.
I glared balefully at him. "Sure, but I ain't going anywhere with you," I said, starting to walk again.
"Where do you think you're going?" He said, grabbing my arm and spinning me around.
"Well, I was going to look for a box to sleep in for the night, but it looks like I'm gonna have to kick your face in first."
I kicked him in a spot that probably made stars pop up in front of his eyes, twisted his arm backwards, and kicked his kneecap. He doubled over; groaning and I took that opportunity to run like hell.
I ran for like five minutes when I tripped over a rock in the middle of the road.
"Whoa!" I heard a guy say as I felt strong arms grab me and pick me up.
"Let go of me, you dipwad! Let go, let go, let go!" I screamed, kicking him.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow, dang, girl, stop! I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear!" He said.
I finally stopped kicking and looked at him. He had on a leather jacket, and he had brown eyes and hair. He looked at me, too and stopped dead.
"Dean?" I asked, completely stunned into silence.
"Marianna?" He asked, staring at me.
"Oh my God," I said, throwing my arms around his neck.
I started crying as he hugged me tightly.
If you haven't figured this out yet, the guy's name was Dean Winchester.
The twist was that my name was Marianna-Grace Winchester.
The bigger twist was that we were siblings.
The biggest twist? I've been dead for twenty-two years.
