They didn't lock me up in the panic room. I slept on the bed in one of the spare rooms with Sam in the armchair. I didn't want to be her. I just wanted to go home.

So I did.

I walked right out the front door of the house and down the driveway. When I got to the road. I didn't know which way I had come from, so I took a chance and went right.

I have been walking for at least an hour. I saw the man once and ignored him. He went away. I have been asked by sweaty old men if I need a ride, but I politely decline saying that I like the crisp summer breeze. I wasn't bothered again.

The sun is now rising and I bet the men have already figured out I'm gone. And if they haven't already, they soon will.

In my mind, fate has everything to do with how the world works. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos are the ones who determine what happens to you in your life, how long you live it, and how you will die living it. In my mind, if the men at that house find me then the Fates have destined it and I won't fight it. If they don't then I'll mourn quietly with my crazy, and not bother anyone ever again.

Everything in life happens for a reason. When you strike a match, it starts a fire. This is because the chemical compounds of the match head and on the striker work together to create fire. Fire burns everything it has access to because of the oxygen in the air fueling it. If a fire burns a field of grass, the ashes will eventually absorb back into the soil, fertilizing the Earth. Once the nutrients are absorbed, new life can grow over the devastation that was once there.

Also, nothing new has come from the time we, as humans, have spent on this Earth. We have learned how to use the materials given to create new things, but nothing truly new has come. When we see salt, we don't think of the elements that make it up. To us it's just there. Table salt, or sodium chloride, is made up of sodium and chlorine. Salt isn't "new", it doesn't just exist. Something older came along and made it "new".

It takes two older human beings to make a smaller new one, composed of old material. So in theory, even humans are new, old people.

I want to make a difference in my life by composing new old thoughts that have probably existed in somebody else's mind somewhere. But I can't. I'm just too closed off to the idea of new old things.

And bringing this back to fate, I hear the roar of a car behind me slowing down. I turn to see it's the one that I passed back at the house. I turn back around and keep walking. The car stops and two sets of steps catch up with me. A hand touches my shoulder, which I immediately shrug off.

You know what screw Fate. I don't want to be around the people who could only save me.

"C'mon, it's really early in the morning and you should get food in you since you didn't eat the other night," Sasquatch said to me. He had these puppy dog eyes that made me want to bear my soul to him but I held back.

Because I was afraid. I was afraid he'd end up dead, like my parents and Gran, or missing like Scott and Cara.

I was afraid that given the chance I would fall for either one of the boys, green eyes or Sasquatch.

I was afraid to be loved. Everyone who has ever loved me is gone.

I wanted to bear my soul. I wanted to fall in love. I wanted to feel what it's like to be loved again.

But I can't have that.

So I closed myself off, screwed Fate up her golden spindle, and kept walking away. I kept walking away from what felt right and towards what I knew was wrong. I kept walking towards that part of me that shuts down, that part of me who's depressed, that part of me who can't gather the courage to talk to other people and blames it on her voice being sacred to her.

I kept walking towards the dark parts of me when I should have been running towards the light.

And the sad part was, as I kept walking, as I kept shrugging off hands on my shoulders or arms, I knew what I was doing. I was shutting down intentionally. I was shutting down my good thoughts, my happy thoughts, the thoughts that made me laugh.

But I kept walking.

I kept shutting down.

I knew that green eyes and Sasquatch would keep following me until they got it their way, which was for them to haul me back to their house. I ignored them until something green eyes said slowed me down.

"I know what you're doing," he called. I stopped walking but didn't turn around to face him. "You… you're shutting down. Telling yourself it's okay to feel that way because of something's that wrong with you. Trust me, I know. I did the same thing. I still do the same thing," he paused. "Whenever I start to feel, whenever I start to be happy, it feels like it all just slips through my fingers like grains of sand. It always there, just never yours to keep. But trust me, from someone with enough experience in pain, suffering, loss, and even a bit of depression, it's ten times better to feel crappy and give two shits then feel crappy and don't care if you die the next day." I turn and face him. Sasquatch looks at him surprised, but all I see are the tears streaming from a pair of green eyes.

"When I was little, I had to look out for my younger brother," he looks at Sasquatch. Well I now know their relationship status, "My father always told me, 'Take care of Sammy,' 'Shoot first ask questions later.' And when I was eighteen and Sammy was in high school, I didn't get to leave my family and go to college, I got to stay back and keep watching out for him because our father didn't have the emotional ability too. Yet he would come back from a job, and thought he ruled the world.

"From around seventeen to twenty-one, I was depressed. I got into lots of trouble with the law and didn't care. A couple years ago, I was dying, and didn't give a flying shit. But Sam did. He snapped me out of it and made me fight, so I did. I fought as hard as I could and I'm still standing here today. Let us, my brother and I, snap you out of it, this funk you're in. When my dad died, even though he was the king of dicks, I loved him and bottled up everything I know you're feeling, inside. When I finally exploded, shit hit the fan, and I was cleaning it up for at least a year." He had started to walk closer to me but hadn't noticed till now. He was a foot away and Sasquatch was close behind him.

"Please let us help you. Because I know that if it was me, hell it was me, I would want somebody cheering me on." I think it's time I talk.

"You know that would be nice," I say. They both stare at me in shock. I don't think they expected me to respond. "I want that. I need that, that cheering on. The help. But I can't have it. Every colorful, beautiful, good thing I touch never stays golden. I turn it and twist it into something I don't like but think that's what's best for me. I take the evil and the deranged shit that comes from my nightmares and hallucinations, and make it real. I have a social disorder that makes it hard for me to speak to people. Then I take and blame it on the fact that my voice is sacred and doesn't need to be heard by everyone. And yeah I know what you're going to say, 'Well, at least you recognize the problem. Once you recognize and acknowledge it you can work to make it better or go away altogether.' I know. I've heard it before from my therapist. And I have tried. I've tried so hard. It just never seems to be good enough."

"I get it, but you can't-" Dean started.

"Yes, I can give up! I have nothing, no one who loves me anymore. The psycho man from my hallucinations is back. I don't have a family. I just want to check into to mental ward and rot there. That way I won't be a burden on you, your friends and family, and I can just mourn with my crazy."

"Um, yeah. Not gonna happen. You may think of yourself as a burden to us, but you're not," Sasquatch says. "You could be one the nicest people we have ever met, and you walk away now and we won't be able to see that. Do you remember what it's like to laugh?" I shake my head. I don't. I can't remember the last time I did. "We could help you laugh again. Not only will it be good for you, it will be good for us to see how we can make a positive difference in your life."

We stand there all staring at each other. I look from green eyes to Sasquatch, and down to the ground.

Pro: they seem to want to get to know me. Con: they could be serial killers.

Pro: they want to love me. Con: I want to love them.

Pro: they sort of understand. Con: I don't know what's it's like to be normal.

Really, the pros outweigh the cons in this situation, but that doesn't mean I want them to.

"Fine you win. The puppy dog eyes got me though," I say to Sasquatch. He smirks and we walk back to their car. "I have some conditions though."

"Okay. Lay it on us," green eyes says.

"First, there has to be an unlimited supply of bacon, cheese, and chips. They ain't there, I'm not staying."

"Done," Sasquatch laughs.

"Second, if I start to have a hallucination and try and kill myself, or you, stop me. I don't care how. If you have to knock me out with a shovel, by all means, just stop it. Thrird, if you can't find me in the morning, don't freak out I'm probably just outside somewhere. I sleep walk a lot and somehow always end up outside and dirty. Fourth, you have to tell me about what you do," they start to object, but I just keep talking. "No. Don't tell me you won't, cause if you try and hide it from me, I will runaway, find out what you do, and do it by myself got it?" They nod. "And finally, I need to know your names." I cross my arms and wait for their response.

"I'm Dean Winchester and this is my younger brother Sam," green eyes says. I nod and start walking ahead of them to their car. I turn around and look over my shoulder back to the boys.

"Hi, Sam and Dean. My name is Lennox Sinclair."