Here is a new chapter. Might be a little short. Enjoy!
Dad has always been a mystery to me, I know very little about him. The only things I know is that he was in the Marines and had fought in Vietnam for a period of time, to which afterwards he met my Mom. What's his favorite football team? Does he prefer ice hockey or basketball? Where and how did he meet Mom? Where are my grandparents from his side of the family, if their still alive that is? Little things like that and I have no idea.
The top of my head felt exposed as I forgot to take my baseball cap before I left with my Dad. A silence had settled in Dad's truck, which was cruising along the quiet road. Now what? Was I supposed to start a conversation? Me? Thankfully Dad jumped ahead in front of me and made the first step at socializing.
"Where do you wanna go?" he asked, briefly glancing at me yet still remained focused on the road. "Anywhere you wanna go. You name it. My treat."
I'd love to go to the solar system but that is impossible at the moment and besides I don't own a rocket. Shame really. You'll be a grade A idiot not to notice the sarcasm in that statement. With my hands clasped together on my lap, my eyes rotated upwards in Dad's direction. My shoulders shrugged in reply.
"Food, I guess," I answered, my voice small. "I don't really care about where we go."
I've come to notice something, I'm becoming more cynical and ballsy as I get older. Compared to when I was five, I would have burst into tears at the slightest scare or taunt. My humor has always been a bit weird, the things I come out with sometimes makes people raise an eyebrow. To hell with it I say, I am who I am. It just sucks to be me most times. Dad looked down at me again, a small frown developing on his face.
"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked. "Why the long face? I thought you'd be happy to get outta that old motel room."
True, I did wanna get outta there but not under this frame of mind. I felt so guilty for choosing Dad over Dean, and the emotion was eating away into my brain like a worm burrowing into the flesh of an apple.
"I've upset Dean again, I know I have," I said. "I saw the look on his face as we left, it was as if I had kicked him in the balls and he was trying not to scream."
Dad let out a tired sigh, his eyes remaining on the road ahead. The very last thing I wanted to do was to hurt my brother's feelings and even though he put's on the whole macho badass act, deep down I know he has emotions. I can read him like a book. People always say that I express loyalty and knowledge beyond my years.
"He is an adult, Chris," responded Dad. "For eleven years, he knows how to handle difficult situations. You shouldn't have to worry about him. Give him space and he'll come around."
I remained silent for the rest of the journey to a small diner, and only began speaking in longer sentences once our food was placed in front of us. Come to think of it, when was the last time I ate something that wasn't potato chips and baked beans. You wouldn't think by looking at me, since I'm as skinny as a toothpick, that I can eat like a horse.
"When was the last time you had something to eat?" questioned Dad as I began nibble hungrily on a garlic buffalo wing. "My guessing is that you could eat the whole kitchen outta stock."
Dad had clearly mistaken my appetite for Dean's bottomless gut. No kidding, the way my brother eats sometimes makes me feel ill. I tossed the bones of the wing onto the plate and then moved onto my double bacon cheeseburger and fries. Dammit, there was an ugly dark green pickle on the side as garnish. If there is one food I hate with all my soul, it's pickles. Closely followed by mushrooms which I reckon are very slimy and resemble slugs.
"Why did you come back?" I probed Dad, my cheeks puffed out like a hamster as I chewed.
My guessing was that he had been confronted with a problem of some sort and he needed the backup from my brother. Dad gazed across at me as he let out a tiny sigh, settling his glass of Coca Cola down in the process.
"What you have to understand, Chrissie, is that I would do anything to protect you from all the crap out there," he said, his tone soft. "I never meant to hurt you, or your brother. Since Sam ran away, you two are all I've got left."
As I swallowed down the lump of undigested food, my doleful eyes fixed on Dad.
"That doesn't answer my question," I replied. "Why did you come back? Tell me the truth, I'm not a little girl anymore so you can't hide stuff from me. It's not fair if you do."
Dad lowered his head. Aha! He did have an agenda after all. I knew it was too good to be true.
"I've caught scent of a gig in Kittanning, Pennsylvania," muttered Dad. "From what I've figured out so far, it points to a spirit."
He then produced a newspaper clipping from the inside of his jacket and then sliding it across the table in my direction. I picked it up, tracing over the text with my eyes, the small headline was in bold print:
Local Family Claim Their House is Haunted.
I continued to scan over the short article, my fingers grazing the thin paper:
The Panowski family; Jerry (40), Miranda (37), Stephanie (16) and Wilma (76) believe their home is haunted after resent strange activities, which has caused them confusion and fear. Is it just superstition or true paranormal activity?
The elderly Wilma is certain that a spirit is present in her son Jerry's home, to which she says "It has an aura of sadness mixed with anger. It is hell bent on causing harm and chaos. The neighbors think we're crazy." Teenage Stephanie proves to be a skeptic over the situation. The high school Junior states "Grandma thinks she is some psychic. It's stupid, there is no such thing as ghosts. Our house is old anyway."
Whether it's true or false, this family continues to suffer behind closed doors. Either with a delusional idea or a serious problem.
I placed the clipping down to which Dad took it back, returning back inside his jacket pocket. Shaking my head in annoyance, I grabbed a French fry from my plate.
"Lemme guess, you've only crawled back because only need help with something," I commented, ripping the golden French fry apart with my teeth. "Dean was right, you don't give a rat's ass about us."
Dad didn't like that statement, a frown developed on his face as he looked directly at me.
"Listen up, and listen good because I don't wanna repeat this to you ever again," he said, a tiny glimmer of sadness in his eyes. "What have I always told you? Huh? You're my little girl. Your mother would come down from Heaven and beat me black and blue if anything happened to you or your brothers."
Dad then took hold of my small hand, giving it a squeeze of affection as he gazed at me.
"Every time I go away on a hunt, I always pray that I'm able to return. You can say and think all you want about me Chrissie, but I know one thing about you. You're incredibly brave and loyal," added Dad, his eyes soft. "Nothing stands in your way. Reminds me of your mother, she had those qualities too. She would be so proud of you."
Proud of what? How I'm a boisterous tomboy and how I thought it was hysterical to belch the alphabet aged seven. Yet I can get an understanding of where Dad is coming from.
"Dean always says that my bite is worse than my bark," I said with a sheepish smirk. "Word to the wise, Dad, don't step on the eggshells when I'm grouchy."
Dad let out a small chuckle and shook his head fondly at me as he let go of my hand. We left the diner another ten minutes later, making a quick stop at a gas station before returning to the motel. Armed with handfuls of new Pokemon cards and candy bars, I entered our room.
Dad thought the Pokemon cards were stickers for my sketchbook and at that point I was ready to go on my famous Pokemon rant whilst throwing the cards at Dad like ninja stars. On gazing at the couch I was confronted with the sight of my brother. He was nursing a bottle of beer, lounging on the moth eaten couch as if he was a jungle cat on a tree branch. Dad followed behind me and sighed at the site of my moody big brother.
"Ah, resorting to bribery to win your daughter's love," grunted Dean, taking a swing of his beer, he gazed at me briefly. "I'm surprised Dad, I thought you would've got her a pony."
Quietly I made my way over to the beds in order to store my new items in my old duffle bag.
"Don't start with me, boy," Dad cautioned. "I'm the parent remember. Why are you throwing a bitchy mood over me taking Chrissie out for the evening anyway? Aren't I allowed some time alone with her?"
I kept my head down as I rummaged through my bag, listening to the words being exchanged. Dad grunted when Dean didn't reply. Goose would snap outta the mood within the next couple of hours, my pestering and puppy dog eyes always seem to do the trick.
"Anyway, buck up, we're leaving for Pennsylvania in the morning," said Dad, making his way to the kitchenette. "It's time for Chrissie's first hunt."
Oh crap!
What a week this has been for SPN fans. Jared and Gen are now parents and Misha is returning in tonight's new episode! Yay! Though I'm unable to see it because I live in Scotland and the UK are lazy arseholes when it comes to broadcasting the show.
Still I'm gonna watch it online first thing tomorrow morning. Happy days!
Also if any of you guys have twitter, you can follow me. Just search for littlegemini93
Stay tuned!
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