Thank you for reading my story, and sticking to it! About half my views left on the first chapter...bummer.... Anyways, enjoy!
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I finished preparing the tea and started to go back into the family room. I was about to enter until I heard them say something strange. "I think it's a Soul Eater, Dean." I stand there, thinking about what he said. A soul eater? What's that? That's not an actual thing... Is it? I forget about what I just heard, and rush into the family room again. Setting down the tea tray on the coffee table and serving agent Wilson. I serve myself and sit back down, sipping my tea.
"So, we have a few more questions before we get out of your way." Agent Holt says.
"Yes, of course!" I reply.
"Did you feel any... Cold spots... When you were near the scene?"
"No, at least I don't think so... It's in the basement so it's generally cold down there." I explain.
"How about any strange noises? Did you hear any of those?" Asks agent Wilson with that puppy face again. I try and controll myself this time.
"Um.. well... I checked on them because it seemed...Quiet." I said, with my voice lowering a bit as I spoke.
"Um.. anymore questions? I really need to get to cleaning out Mark and James' rooms." I said, stiffening up a bit as I spoke. I must have gave it away that I was sad because they soon replied.
"Um, no, that will be all. Thank you for your time, and sorry for you loss."
"Yeah, sorry, and if you hear or see anything strange, just give us a call." Said Holt, holding out a card. I took the card and read it quickly.
"Yeah, Ok. No problem."
They left and I went back to cleaning out the rooms of my husband and son. Thinking. Wondering. What could have been. What would happen. I soon finish cleaning out the rooms. I leave a few reminders of them, and I load boxes into my car. It wasn't a very new car. It was my husbands. A old, Chevy. Light blue pick up. I loved the car. Almost as much as I loved him. I wouldn't sell it for the world.
I get to the thrift shop and drop off the boxes. As I drive home, I think about what I saw that yesterday. My son's blue eyes, wide open. His dark brown hair messy. His clothes covered in his own blood. My husband's similar blue eyes, and short blond hair. The blood. The pain. The sadness. A tear comes out of my eye, but I wipe it and keep driving. Not thinking about what happened anymore. It's in the past. I need to focus on my future. Focus on my job. Not on what happened. I need to focus on the positive. And not on the negative. Happy thoughts! I think to myself. Happy thoughts...
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The Fake FBI (Supernatural Fanfiction)
FanfictionDaisy Collins, aka you, was doing laundry like any other day, and decided to check up on her son and husband, in the basements family room, only to find them both dead. You call 911 and wait for the police to get there. You cry and when they arrive...
