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Chapter 11

Melissa's POV

It has been three days since I've been released from the hospital. The images of my fathers malicous eyes and hateful scowls still flicker through my mind giving me nightmares, those aren't the only nightmares I've been having lately. I keep seeing that man, the one from the shadows, I don't know his name.

I'm not sure how long Dean is going to let me stay with him and Sam. Every now and again I'll catch him sending worried glances my way, looking at me like I might fall apart any second. He knows I've been having nightmares but, he assumes they are just about my father. I plan to keep it that way.

"I'm going for a walk." I'm going stir crazy.

"I'll come with you." Dean says standing up going to grab his coat.

"Alone." I state, heading to the door.

Dean grabs me by the wrist, I spin around quickly. Is he going to hit me? I think back to how my father used to grab me the same way before he would plant his fist into my jaw. Dean wouldn't do that would he? No, he wouldn't. He's been taking care of me, why would he? Unless, he's starting to realize that I've been nothing but a burden these past few days. He must of noticed the fear in my eyes because, he loosend his grip on my wrist.

"I just want to make sure you're safe." He says softly.

"I just need to clear my head. That's all."

He lets go of my wrist and I head out the door quickly. The cool breeze feels good on my warm skin. Thoughts flooded my brain, most were about Dean. I knew he would probably want me gone soon but, I wasn't sure when.

I wandered down my street, stopping infront of my house. I looked at it. It looked like an average house, pale blue paint, two stories with purple flowers planted infront of the porch. I grew up in this house, the same house my once happy family became ruined peice by piece. I walked up the path leading to the front porch and twisted the knob on the door and pushed it open. I walked inside and looked around. So many memories happened here, good and bad. I walked into the living room and looked at the black mark on the wall, peeking out from the coat of white paint that tried to hide it, from when my sister and I re-decorated the wall. I walked into the kitchen. I pictured my mom standing at the sink washing dishes as she looked out the window with the sunlight encasing her thin frame reflecting off her blonde long blonde hair, I pictured my sister and I running through the house playing tag and my father walking through the front door, happily kissing me and my sister on the top of our heads. He'd place his brief case on the counter and kiss my mother on the cheek, his eyes full of love. We'd sit at the little round wooden table for four, and eat dinner. Saying grace, sharing stories about our day.

I never really thought about it much but, I used to have so much faith. I wasn't sure when I stopped, maybe it was when my father and I lost everything, when he changed. Sometimes I prayed for help but, my prayers were never answered, so I guess I just stopped believing. When things got bad I tried to have faith but, after my sister died I gave up. Maybe my father beating me was a punishment for losing faith.

I had been through this house many times, passing though it's windows and rooms but, I had never really felt home, never really taken the time to reflect on the good memories. I can only hope that I'll find where I'm going. I have seen all the bad I can take. Maybe things just had to hit rock bottom before they got better.

I wiped the tears that had broken free, and walked out of the house with one last good look, then headed back to Dean's motel room.

The whole way, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes following my every move. I walked faster, hoping to get back soon, when I collided with someones strong chest.

"What's the hurry?" He asked, sending chills down my spine, I recognized this voice.

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Note: I put a picture of Melissa's house on my profile if you're interested.