A/N: Had to get this chapter out. x)
Brought to you by skittles and homework-procrastination!
No own me Supernatural, blah blah blah.
Wait, real quick, there's cussing in this story, but this is probably the only chapter that's going to have so much so close together. Sometimes cussin' is necessary.
She awoke with a gasp, the first thing her clear eyes seeing was the smooth painted ceiling she grew up with.
No...
She was lying down, her body twisted in a way that made her legs tingle.
She sat up as carefully as she could without further straining the muscles in her legs.
"Mom?" She called out.
No...
"Percy?" She tried again.
No...
She had begun to move, walking through her room in the bungalow she and her family lived in.
"Dad?!" She called, getting frantic.
Did they leave her? Was she dreaming?
No...!
She left her room, using the wall to support her weight as the world started to spin and she felt lightheaded.
"Mom?!" Her voice had become shrill and cracked in her urgency.
She stumbled through the hallway, looking in both of her siblings' rooms, calling their names as she did.
She couldn't find anyone.
She was approaching her parents' room at the end of the hallway when she was ripped from the wall by rough hands.
No!
"Not there, kid," the voice chuckled. She turned and saw her family's friend Thomas. Thomas was the guy that handed the offering plate to each pew row...
With an odd smile, Thomas redirected her towards the living room, out of the hallway of bedrooms.
"We'll wait for daddy out here, 'kay?" Thomas said, offering no room to argue.
"What-?" She tried to turn to look at the bedroom, but Thomas roughly manhandled her head forward.
She whimpered at this rough contact, and Thomas shushed her like a crying baby.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Me and you, we're just gonna wait for daddy to get home, and when he does, we're gonna play a little joke on him."
He was speaking like he was entertaining a five year old as he went in front of her and knelt to get eye-level.
Thomas's eyes were horrible, nightmarishly all black, but she blinked and they were brown again.
She didn't know what that meant, exactly, but she had enough of an inkling to recognize that Thomas wasn't himself.
"Want to hear the joke?"
His voice startled her, and she nodded numbly.
"First, we're gonna pretend that we weren't expecting him. Okay? Then, you're gonna hold my hand like a good little girl when we all go looking for her. Okay? We have a surprise for him, me and your momma."
She stared wide-eyed at him, studying his expression and not recognizing the nice young man she used to admittedly be smitten with.
He winked and ruffled her hair, and she flinched making him laugh at her.
He was about to sit on their couch when she gathered her courage and asked where her brother and sister were.
He resumed sitting with a mockingly thoughtful expression. He tossed his head from one side to the other in contemplation and then said, "With your mom. " And winked with an animalistic grin.
She felt repulsed.
It felt like a very long time till her dad got home, and by the time he did, Thomas had decided she should sit on his lap.
She felt like crying as his rough hand settled on her shoulder, making her lean back into him. It felt like he was dirtying her with just a single touch.
When the door slammed open, she jumped, but Thomas's hand clamped down on her shoulder. She almost whimpered, but with a simple scathing look she shut up.
"Rebecca!" Her dad's voice shouted. He sounded panicked.
"Ope!" He called again. Thomas's hand found her mouth and he shook his head.
"Percy!" He shouted. "Helen!"
He called those four names over and over as she traced his steps going from the garage, through the kitchen, through the dining room and finally halting violently as he entered the living room.
She started trembling at her father's expression, which was a mix of horror, fear, and such a fierce anger that she felt like she was going to cry all over again. This was serious.
"How's it goin' William?" Thomas asked conversationally, though with a threatening undertone. "We weren't expecting you! Were we, Ophelia?"
He lifted the hand off of her mouth, and smirked at her shudder.
"Stop touching her!" He snapped. "Where is my family, you fucking bastard," her father growled with a ferocity she didn't know him capable of, speaking with language she had never heard him use before.
Thomas legitimately burst out cackling like a movie villain. It was rough and cruel and she felt almost like she was betraying her father just by being seated on the man's lap.
She looked to her father pleadingly, but his eyes were focused with fury on the laughing man behind her.
Thomas sobered abruptly and motioned to her, stated monotonously, "Right here, you murdering piece of shit."
Her dad's eyes fluttered worriedly to her, but then he seemed to cease breathing. "All of them, Damon," he warned lowly, growling like a wolf.
Thomas - Damon? - turned to her, ignoring her father, and asked patronizingly, "Ready to play our game?" He roughly manhandled her head to say yes with both hands, making her cry out in surprise.
He cackled harshly, snagging her hand and stood abruptly.
"Where could your mommy be, Precious?" He asked as if hosting Blues Clues, bringing his hand up to his forehead as if blocking the sun as he "searched" the living room.
Her dad was fuming, and followed immediately when Thomas dragged her back to the bedroom hallway and into the master bedroom...
NO! NO, NO, NO!
She woke up with a harsh and silent intake of air.
Her senses were met with the felt ceiling of the Impala, a rock song softly playing on the radio, and then the pleasant rocking of a car that had no doubt lulled her to sleep.
She was used to the nightmares, but this one had been oddly vivid... She was just grateful that after a lifetime of interrupting the dream too late, she had succeeded in avoiding the final images of the dream. And had done so without screaming.
She hated it, as it haunted her practically every night, but sometimes she needed that dream, she had decided. It helped her focus on her end goal.
Besides never allowing herself the luxury of trust since Thomas, her heart gained a hole. One that yearned for revenge.
She grew up hearing her pastor mother preachings, always teaching of love, of sacrifice and of forgiveness... But how to you forgive such evil? How do you love the "neighbor" that murdered your family? Perhaps that preaching didn't count for Damon... a demon that had soaked her family in their own blood... How do you not crave revenge?
"Revenge is not the way," her mother had always taught. Ophelia tried for so long to believe her mother, to follow her mother's word... but sometimes you need to right a wrong.
She didn't think she had the strength to do anything, however. A lifetime with her over-cautious father brought her to that judgement of herself.
But she'd be damned if she died without Damon dying first.
A/N: OH-EM-GEE, GUYS, I'M INCORPORATING THE SUMMARY! Oy. xD
It's so unoriginal, like, crap, but I think it's a very justified cause to seek revenge for an entire family. And I'm sorry about the similarities in dead parents, but I felt a mother/daughter bond would've been a more dramatic loss. Especially when I'm gonna be establishing how attached the two were.
It would've made a compelling story to have a mother/daughter hunting team, now that I think about it... But yeah... Dammit. -sighs dejectedly-
Just gonna finish my homework now... xD