Gaurdian Angel

Chapter Six

Castiel's POV

After I finished punching that punching bag, I got in my car and took a slow drive home. Er. House. I pulled into the driveway out back, sighing slightly and shaking my head. I very much did not want to be here. I parked my car and walked in through the front door, heading straight past my drunk adoptive father passed out on the couch. Straight past my adoptive mother cooking in the kitchen. Her cooking was always awful, but she never stopped trying new recipes. I hated when she cooked. The house always smelled awful for days afterward. I breathed a small sigh on the way to my bedroom, knowing that she was going to make me eat some of whatever it was she was mutilating when she was done. I walked into my room and shut the door, twisting the lock. After a quick look around the room I called my own, I tossed my book bag onto my desk, then flopped onto my bed, closing my eyes with a sigh. I laid there for a while, just breathing deeply, focusing on calming myself down. The gym may have helped, but it was extremely temporary, and as soon as I thought of that dumb jock, I got all angry again. I really needed like.. A punching bag in my room... As soon as my breathing was even, I stood up and walked over to my desk, pulling out my notebook and picking up a pen. I was just about to start writing when I heard a knock on my door. I jumped up and went to unlock and open my door. I stood to the side as my mom walked into the room and gestured for me to shut the door. I did as told, and she turned to me with a disappointed look on her face. "Skipping class? Really? I thought you were better than this Castiel." She hissed, angry. I just shook my head, glaring down at my toes. I was desperately trying to keep myself calm, but the anger was curling in my stomach like a snake. It snapped at my insides until I could barely contain it. I knew it wasn't right for me to want to yell at her, or worse, but I couldn't stop myself. I stood there, shaking in anger. The volume of her voice rose, and I snapped. I stalked over to my desk and snatched up my keys. "YOUNG MAN DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE THIS HOUSE." I tossed her a look over my shoulder and breezed out the door, using my free hand to pull my trenchcoat shut. The gale threatend to pull my coat open, whipping my hair back away from my face. I got in my car and started it, eyes watering from the sting of the ice cold wind. I drove all the way to the school, even though it was six o'clock already, and parked there. I held my pen between my teeth, grabbing my book bag and unzipping it. I pulled out a small black notebook that I kept as my extra emergency journal. I started writing, clenching my teeth as hard as I could to keep from crying. I wasn't sad. No. Just frustrated and angry. I felt like I was a bottle of pop that someone had tossed down a steep hill. Bruised, battered, shaken up, and ready to explode. I took out my frustration in a long, depressing journal entry. The more I wrote, the more my pen stabbed the paper with every letter, the messier my handwriting got, the more you could feel my anger emanating off the page. By the time I finished writing twenty pages full of anger, fear, sadness, and confusion, it was eight o'clock. I set a seven o'clock alarm on my phone, put the seat down so it was lying flat, and slept in my car. Damn, I don't remember ever feeling so much like I didn't belong anywhere. I mean, I always feel out of place, but this? Sleeping in my car just to get away from that idiot who calls herself my mother? I never thought I'd get to this point in my life.. But here I am... This is a new low. Even for me.