Supernatural: Daughter Of Mine

Chapter 3: Open Up

First, I heard voices. They started sounding muffled and the words all jumbled together.
Then, I felt the aches on my body and the stinging around my eyes.

I groaned and blinked my eyes opened reluctantly.

Three worried faces all stopped and looked over to me. "Alice?" My dad asked, focusing my attention on him.
"Mmm." I murmured. I sat up slowly, scanning the room for my backpack.

"Where's my bag?" I frowned suspiciously.

"Where you left it." Dean said bluntly.

"I'll get it." Cas offered before disappearing.

"I'm gonna go...leave you two alone." Dean declared and followed on after Cas.

"How're you feeling?" My dad asked, he sounded genuinely concerned.

I sighed and looked him in the eye properly for the first time. He looked sad for me and perched on the end of the bed.

"I'm sorry about your Mom, Alice," he began, turning to look at me again "Saskia was a good person, and a great hunter too."

"So you remember her?" I became curious and held back the urge to cry.

"Yeah I do. She seemed like she'd be a good Mom."

"She was..." I looked down at my sleeves and picked at the fraying edge of my jacket.

"How did she die?" He asked hesitantly, as though he wasn't sure whether he was in the right place to do so.

"Demons. I was too late, when I got there they...they were gone." I bit my lip.

Don't cry.

Please.

Not again.

"How long was I out?" I asked, trying to change the subject but my voice was barely a whisper.

"About an hour."

I nodded, locking my jaw and squeezing my eyes shut. A tear escaped and set off the rest.

I cried shamefully and burried my head in my hands.
I felt two arms bring me in and hold me tightly, rocking back and forth ever so slightly.

I let my father hold me as I sobbed in his arms. "I'm sorry..." I managed between sniffs.

"Don't be. You're allowed to be upset, Alice." He assured me and I felt strangely safe in his embrace.

After who knows how long we spent like that, I felt him slowly release me. "Get some sleep, it's getting late."

He got up from the bed and headed out the room slowly.

I stayed in the position he left me in for quite some time: thinking.

Then, I remembered my bag.
I crept out of the room and found it on the floor in the hallway zipped up and untouched. Perfect.

I swung it over my back and went back inside, placing it on the bed.
I clutched my Mum's journal close to me and laid down on the bed.

That night, I cried myself to sleep.