I just watched my own funeral.
You know something? It was pathetic. Not that i had high expectations; I mean, from everything I know about my family, I expected to be cremated in some random field, my bones salted and burned or whatever.
But no. I was not that lucky.
I was buried. I was also scarred for life because I had to watch myself get changed into a dress by Dean and Sam. I don't even own any dresses! Well, nevermind, I didn't, because apparantly now i do. And they DRESSED me! I don't think I've ever been so creeped out and embarrassed at the same time before in my entire existence.
Today was the first day I realized that i was dead. Before today, I just figured i was being ignored. I mean, it's not like that was anything new around here. I'm used to being ignored. But Sam's usual cheerful disposition was replaced with a quiet sadness, and very few words were said by anyone. I tried to talk to them to ask them what was wrong, but no one replied. I was a little pissed off, but I got over it.
But at my funeral, the guests consisted of about seven people. Dean, Sam, John, and 4 of my friends from school. No, wait. Bobby was there, too. But there were other people that I didn't know. Hunters, I could tell by the way they acted, dissaproving glances cast. They all left not long after they came. I guess they were just paying their respects to a fellow hunter's daughter. The last one looked right at me before he none of the others did...
After the service was over, the now trio of Winchesters rode home and i got in while Sam was occupied looking back at the cemetary. He kept looking over at where I was sitting. I even tried talking to them once. "Sam can you hear me?" I said out loud. Dean and John just continued to silently strum their fingers to the hair metal playing on the car radio. Sam covered his ears, though. I don't think he heard me, or if he did, he just didn't respond. He didn't want to hear me because he didn't care that I needed his help.
When did our family get like this anyway? When did the pain of giving up normalcy and routine and hope for a better life dull down and we had come to expect it? I spent a long time trying to answer that question, but I couldn't remember a time when it wasn't like this. A time when we weren't worried that the next time John went out, he wouldn't come back home; a time when we weren't scared to go to bed with the lights out because we thought monsters weren't real.
There's a strange sound coming from the living room. I'm going to go see what it is.