Born in Blood

Chapter 11

Leah's POV

I sat on the bed.  It was a standard twin size bed.  Smaller than the one I had back home, but it would make do.  It was old, too.  The frame was painted a muted yellow, as was the dresser and singular night stand. 
That was the only furniture in the room except for a rather decrepit looking rocking chair in the corner.   The entire room reminded me of a grandma, but I supposed that made sense.  The Bobby guy seemed pretty old. 
The entire room smelled like dust, but it was easily ignored.  I tossed my bags onto the floor and decided to unpack.  I didn't have anything better to do and I didn't exactly feel very welcome downstairs. 

I pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and was surprised to see a couple of outdated sundresses folded nicely.  I pulled them out and held them up to myself, eying my reflection in the cracked mirror attached to the dresser. 
They weren't really my style but they were pretty.  They were a few sizes too big for me and I wondered why they were here in the first place.  This house didn't exactly scream that it had a woman's touch in any way.  But I shrugged, and put them back in the dresser.  I decided to keep them there and buried them underneath my own clothes as I folded them and stashed them away in the dresser. 
I then pulled out the photo of my parents.  Or rather, my mom, and the man I thought had been my dad.  I didn't have many photos of my mom so I was sure to grab it.  She wasn't much of a picture person. 
It felt weird seeing it now but I carefully placed it on the dresser and smiled. 
She was gone.  Even though this photo was a bittersweet reminder that she had lied to me, I didn't want to forget her face. 

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I did my best to try and fight them, but it wasn't any use.  I never got to apologize to her.  She died probably thinking that I hated her.  I choked back a sob and flung myself into the bed, crying into the old pillow.  It smelled a bit like mildew but I ignored it. 
As I cried, I heard a knock at my door. 
I sat up and tried to wipe away the tears, but it wasn't really working.  They knocked again, and I sighed. 
Turning my face away from the door I muttered "Come in."

"Hey, you settling in okay?" Dean asked as he creaked open the door. 

"Yeah." I replied curtly, trying to hide the sadness that still flooded my voice.  But I know he heard the wavering. 

"What's wrong?" He asked then, suddenly.  He came around to in front of me and I tried to keep my face hidden, but I pulled it around gently by griping my chin. 

"Talk to me."

"It's nothing important."

"Doesn't matter.  I'm here to listen."

He pulled the rocking chair over from the corner and settled in across from me.  He braced himself against his knees and stared at me sternly as if to probe me forward. 

"I just miss my mom.  I never got to apologize for being such a brat.  She thought I hated her."

I could feel the tears coming again but I didn't try to fight them this time.  I didn't care if Dean saw me crying.  I felt comfortable in front of him for some reason. 

"Hey, your mom knew you loved her.  All kids act out and you had good reason too.  She never would have blamed you or actually thought you hated her." Dean said, pulling me into an awkward hug.  I nodded against his chest and continued to cry, but I felt a little better. 

I could tell he was uncomfortable but he continued to hug me until I was done.  It felt good.  Cathartic, even.  I hadn't properly mourned my mom and letting lose those emotions really felt relieving. 

"Thanks." I muttered, suddenly shy.  I scrunched up my nose as the giant wet spot I had left on this shirt. 

"It's no problem.  We're gonna eat pizza soon, so go ahead and wash up."

I nodded and followed as he showed me to the bathroom.  It seemed to fit the feel of the outside of house better than the other rooms.  It smelled like urine and was kinda rusty. 

But I washed my hands and met the men in the living room.  I took a seat between my Dad and uncle and took a slice, savoring the flavor.

"So, tell is about yourself." Bobby commanded, sitting as the desk. 
I gulped, almost choking on my bite of pizza. 

I suddenly felt like I was being interrogated.