𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛[𝙳.𝚆]

074

"Hey, Dean?" I call, running my flashlight over the jarred human organs.

"Yeah?" He asks from a few steps ahead of me.

"Maybe they're building their very own Frankenstein." I joke, pulling out the jar that has a brain and showing it to him.

"Oh, yeah. Hey, maybe you can be it's bride." Dean snorts, continuing forward.

"Not with your jealous ass." I mutter with a small laugh, setting down the jar.

"Damn, check this out." I move over to him and lift my flashlight to where he's pointing his. Dozens of polaroids are hung up like prized trophies on some chicken fence and in each picture there's two men posing in front of a dead person, the same way a hunter would after catching a deer or bear.

"Is that..." I slowly pluck one of the polaroids off the wire and look closely at it. My eyes widen and I flip it over to show Dean. "It's Jenkins." I state.

"Well, I'll say it again—demons, I get. People are crazy." Dean says, walking away. I toss the polaroid back onto the table and follow closely behind him.

It was almost impossible going up the basement steps without having it creek several times. They were probably ancient and Dean's heavy foot only made the wood whine louder.

Outside the basement door, piano music plays throughout the house, making it easier for our steps to go unheard. There's clanking in the kitchen and I try getting a peek at who's inside when I hear clattering right next to my ear. I snap my gaze to Dean where he's holding onto something dangling from the ceiling to stop it from making noise. Looking closer at it, it becomes clear that it's a jawbone and hipbone.

"What the..." Dean whispers. I gag and gently swat his hands away from the bones. We continue forward and the noise in the kitchen continues as well. I scrunch my nose when I start to hear a loud crunching noise, like something was being sawed down. My stomach churns.

Dean was able to snatch up a thin wooden post, that was about as tall as me, with a rusted nail sticking out of it while I grabbed a small rusted butter knife that was sitting on a table we passed by. The place was dirty and rotted—and the smell. God, I never smelt anything like it.

I spot a tray of keys on another table in what looks like the living room, but I don't know. Nothing about this house was normal. I think I would've felt more 'normal' in a fun house. While Dean creeps closer to the kitchen doorway, I reach out for the keys when my eyes catch a jar full of teeth. With curious eyes and furrowed brows, I pick up the jar to get a closer look at it.

"Gross." I mutter, scrunching my nose. My body stiffens when I hear light footsteps creeping up behind me. Dean's steps weren't light. Setting down the jar, I whip around in the direction of the quiet pitter patter, knife raised. A young girl, no older than thirteen, stands there in a dirty dress.

Her hair was clearly in knots, and her pale skin was covered in dirt and sweat, making me wonder when was the last time she showered. She was in a defensive stance, preparing my attack, looking frightened.

"Shh. It's okay. We're not gonna hurt you." Dean coos, walking closer to her after setting down the wooden post.

"Uh, Dean-" I stop my warning immediately when I see her pull out a knife.

"I know." She smiles evilly, showing dark yellow teeth, and flings the small blade at Dean, pinning him to the wall by his jacket. "Daddy! Daddy!" She calls.

"Oh, you little-" I huff as I start for her with a raised arm. Before I can get a good cut on her, someone grabs a hold of my arm from behind me and yanks it back in an uncomfortable angle. I wince, but quickly knock them to the ground by kicking the back of their knee in. I fall with him when he grabs a fist full of my hair.