Get Out of Here (Supernatural)

Chapter 4

   I wake up from the weirdest, one of the scariest dreams I've ever had before. In my dream, I stood on the beach just outside our house, yet there is nothing there; no house, no neighborhood, just me and the sand. I watch the sea roll into the shore in its unreformed glory, when a man appears next to me. He seems normal, nice even. But when we turn to face each other, that's when things start to get scary.

   "Make the deal," He says staring me down.

   I look back at the ocean and say in response, "Never. This is mine, I'll do what I want with my property,"

   Something bright flashes quickly in the corner of my eye for a momentary second, catching my attention. A knife sits in the hands of the man, shining brilliantly, "Then I guess it's going to have to be the hard way," He says before attacking me. One hand on my mouth while the other cuts at the flesh on my throat.

   Burning pain sears through me and I can't breath. Next think I know is another pain start down my torso. No air reaches my lungs and I begin to choke on blood. While my head starts to muffle, and my lungs starts to die, he drags me over into the water and lays me down. Under the water, dying, I have one last thought. Revenge.

   Trying to forget the dream, I shower and think of the dream washing down the drain with the water, leaving me peaceful. Scrubbing off the scary thoughts placed in my head. Then I step out of the shower with a clean, new towel. 'A new day, a new me,"

   That lasts for a minute. I walk out of the bathroom and see a tall dark haired figure pass by. My feelings turn sour and I just want to go back to bed already. But I won't because that's life and it sucks and it likes to hurt people whenever it can.

   As confidently as I can, I walk down the stairs in my comfy 'day off' cloths thinking, 'It's my house, I'll do what I want'. With my positive thinking I stand  up taller, raise my head up; acting like a princess. Just when I begin to think that I feel like a real person, nature takes over and I fuck it up, tripping down the second to last step.

   I try to save my ass from brutal pain, so I try to jump out of the fall. Sounds impossible, almost thought it wasn't, but it really is. All I end up doing is landing on my side, a stair to the hip and on to the head. I slide down until I'm laying just underneath the last step, turning over from my side unto my stomach. Admittedly, I seethe at my clumsiness and wonder if they saw me. Though I probably look like road kill to them, I don't care if they judge me.

   "Are you dead?" Dean says above me. I look out of the corner of my eye and see him standing there, holding a beer, and observing my awkwardness.

   "Are you really drinking this early in the morning?" I ask, still immobile on the floor.

   "It's three in the afternoon, don't judge me. You're the one sleeping in past noon, and laying on the floor," He says still standing there looking down at me.

   "Yeah, well, I like to sleep in late and lay on floors, don't judge me," I say, repeating his words back at him. He seems fine with what I said as a legitimate response and walks away. I stay, relaxing on the floor until I see something small and black crawl it's way towards me. Without letting my girly side get the best of me, I stand up and quickly and walk the other way, into the living room.

   When I walk in, I see Sam on his computer and the news playing in the background. Picking between the two options, the news sounds like the best thing to choose. I pick up the box and am almost about to change the channel when the neighbors house is flashed onto the screen.

   "The Parker family just moved to town, living in the newly finished Sandy Beach homes. The family was found viciously murdered late last night," to the side of the reporter, pictures of my now dead neighbors. I don't listen to what the reporter says anymore, I'm too busy looking at the picture of Cassandra Parker. A heavy weight falls over my heart as I realize why I know the dead girls face, and why the new girl at work didn't show up.

   "Their lives will be missed by the whole community," the reporter finishes her story sadly and it transitions into something uplifting like puppies, but my mood is still down in the dumps.

   The new girl died last night and all I could think about, while her demise was upon her, is how much I loathe her for having to cover her shift. I never knew the new - no, her name isn't new girl, it's Cassandra. Cassandra, the new waitress at the diner, who's only been working for two weeks and I never bothered to learn her name.

   I bury my head in my hands and feel the good feelings of a new day officially slip away. The words from my mouth are the only thing running through my head. "I didn't even bother learning her name," I say softly.

   "What?" Sam asks after hearing my whispered words. I don't care about the fact that I'd rather not talk to him, and just spill my thoughts on the matter.

   "I knew that girl, Cassandra, she worked at the diner, but I never bother to learn her name. I feel like such a horrible person, because she had her throat slit and the least I could have done is respect her by knowing her name, which I didn't know until just now," I say. Too restless to sit still, I begin walking to the kitchen.

   "She just moved to town, you can't put that kind of pressure on yourself," Sam says still in the living room. I'm too busy running around in the kitchen finding things to make some tea. The water sits on the stove waiting to boil while I search for the cabinet for something to eat. "Did you say that her throat was slit?"

   Unconsciously, while I move around, I answer his question. "The whole family had their throats cut as well as a cut down their torsos. You should know this, it was on the news," I slam the cabinet  shut and move on to the refrigerator.

   "No they didn't Tegan. They never said anything about how they were killed," Sam says slowly, thinking about what I said. My body freezes, head still in the fridge.

   I remember how the cop dismissed my question last night and how I used my "skills" to listen in on his thoughts. "That's right the cop told me last night," I partially lie.

   "Cops don't release that kind of information to the public. Plus, I know you're lying because your voice just got higher. How do you know this Teg?" He grills me even more. My heart gives a squeeze when I hear him say his nickname for me.

   Never have I told someone about this new skills I suddenly developed because I really don't want to end up in the loony bin, but in this case, I don't want to go to jail. I stand by the oven waiting for the water to come to a boil, my back to Sam and his goddamned eyes, thinking of what to do.

   "Please don't fear for my sanity, but," I take a deep breath to build up my courage, "I can sort of read minds," I keep my back to him knowing that I'll break under his gaze. Instead I try hearing his thoughts.

   'No, she can't be one. He couldn't have done this to her as well, could he?' his train of thoughts go on. but I already feel worn out and a slight headache beginning.

   "I can't be on what, Sam?" Who's he? Do you know what's happening to me because I certainly don't?" I ask all of these questions back at him, frustrated.

   He thinks for a second before responding. "Alright, I believe you, just let me do a test with you. What number am I thinking of?"

   I sigh and focus on hearing him. "You're not thinking of a number, you're thinking of the color purple," I say in exasperation. "At least ask the right question to the answer,"

   Sam nods with full belief now, "Okay, I really believe you, and I think you deserve an explanation."

   The water starts to boil.