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Riptide: a noun:
a dangerous area of
strongly moving water in the sea,
where two or more currents meet
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Also:
A strong negative feeling
or force that is difficult to control.
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Or
In witch an old family friend comes back into...
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Margret paced as she waited in the corner's office. She had been dressed in her most professional out fit and her hair was at the top of her head in a tight bun. Her flats softly clicked with each step as she waited to be let in the examination room to examine her dead friend's body.
She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be far away from this and she cursed herself for making the decision to do this in the first place. But she needed to know. She needed to know what was it that killed her best friend. She had a hunch, because of the twisted neck, the pale skin, she just had a feeling that she was dealing with vampires.
She knew it in her gut.
"Miss McLean?"
Margret looked up from her bitten nails and to the ME that called her by her allies. "We're ready for you to come in now." He said
Margret nodded and followed him inside the room.
The man in the lab coat walker over to one of the tables and pulled out Amy's body. He lifted the white sheet revelling just her head and shoulders.
"She was completely drained of blood." He started. Margret rolled her eyes. No shit she scoffed mentally.
"Right. Look, I Uh, work better on my own, if you could just..."
The ME nodded and handed her the clip board then left her alone. Margret sighed and looked down at the body in front of her. Her eyes then squinted as she noticed the marks on her neck. With her gloved hand, she went to the neck and pulled out something that seemed to be stuck in the hole.
Once she got it out, her suspicion of it being a vampire was confirmed as she held one of its teeth.
"Whatcha got there, Miss?"
Margret slowly put the tooth down as she turned around at the sound of a new voice coming from behind her. A man, wearing a nice black suit and tie stood up strait. His tall frame towered over hers as he came forward beside her. He scratched his chin as he walked around the other side of the table, his own gloved hand touched the body's arm and lifted it up and examined it.
Margret watched with wary eyes.
Dean Winchester stood before her. A man she hadn't seen in years since she moved away. It was odd, seeing him. Her stomach tied itself into a tight knot as she thought of their previous lives together. All the memories she sworn she'd forgotten swam up to the surface as if they've been there all along.
"What is this?"
Margret's words came out before she could stop them. A stupid question she asked, but she had no idea how to act at the moment.
"A dead body..." he answered and smiled. Margret rolled her eyes.
"No, I mean what are you doing here, in New York?"
