Carry on my Wayward Daughter: A Supernatural FanFic

Chapter Ten: The Bunker Bunch

…2014…

                I stay in my “room” for a day before anyone really tries to talk to me again. I guess my little scene with Dean must of scared them all off. I don’t mind though – I’ll probably hate all of them too. I take this day to try to make this iron cell more home-y; to “put some Cassidy in it” as my mom always said.

                I start by putting my small ration of clothes into the small opening beside the desk that I think is supposed to be a closet. I take inventory: three white t-shirts, one purple hoodie, two pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts, and some socks, underwear, and bras. I’ll have to ask Cas to go on another clothes run for me. Maybe pick me up a matching trench coat.

                I draw to cover the walls, finding paper, pens, and tape in the desk. I draw Paula first, spinning in her favorite yellow sundress. Her dark curls tucked up into her trade mark fedora. Her long dark legs fitted by knee-high converse. I don’t cry. I draw angrily.

                Next I draw my mom, sitting on our couch at home with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. It’s based off a real photograph I took without my mother knowing. It’s my favorite of her. She’s not painted up in makeup. Her hair is crazy. She pulls the cuffs of her black sweater up to cover her palms. A tiny smirk sprawls across her face. I like to think this is how she was before my Dad ruined her.

                The next drawing surprises me: Cas. He’s holding my four-year-old hand on the pier. It’s exactly as I remember except I give him big, sprawling angel wings with my red pen. Maybe that’s how it always looked, but I was just too blind to see it.

                I tape up the three drawings, all of people I’ve lost in a day, above my bed and hit my bed. I’m asleep in seconds. And for the first time in forever, I dream.

                …

                Paula sits across from me wearing an orange crop top and black skinny jeans. She was always the pretty one in our little group with her perfect height and flawless dark hair and chocolate skin. She sips from some crazy flavored latte shit.

                We’re giggling. I’m really not sure why but we are. It feels nice to just laugh for the first time in two days. Paula snorts and it causes us both to laugh even harder. Suddenly my mom is beside me holding my hand. I didn’t notice her sitting down.

                Her red lips move, but no noise exits. Paula grabs my other hand and smiles apologetically. An uneasy feeling sinks into my stomach. Their hands tighten on mine. Their eyes blink black.

                I scream, but only breath comes out. Paula grabs my face and her long red nails dig into my cheeks. She opens her mouth and black smoke escapes out and shoves itself into my throat.

                I’m choking on everything: grief, memories, evil. Quick flashes pass by: Dean’s hurt face when I told him I hated him, holding Paula dead in my arms, screaming at my mother for

                …

                I fling myself awake, sweating and out of breath. My heart beats so fast that it’s painful against my chest. A knocking sound is loud against my door, “Cassidy?” the unknown voice asks.

                “What?” I yell back loud and irritated but my voice cracks, still shaken by the dream.

                “Are you okay?” The voice continues to probe of me.