Aftermath • supernatural

one

o n e

     For the last two weeks, Ben Braeden has been living off a healthy diet of protein bars and microwaveable pizzas.

     To say the least, it's the reason he's pushing a half empty shopping cart around the nearest Giant Eagle.

     Three years out of college, he ought to know how to perform the simple task of cooking. He should, but like many other activities, he lacks knowledge in the area. The most he can muster up is the ability to follow the directions on the back of a mac-n-cheese box.

     This is why his right-hand clutches his phone, scrolling through 'easy', 'simple' google search recipes while his other mindlessly grabs items off the shelves. He has about forty dollars and a handful of quarters stuffed in his pocket, enough to pay for the essentials.

     He swipes a bag of beef jerky off the shelves and tosses it into the cart.

     Continuing on down the aisle, he settles on a seven-ingredient chili recipe that doesn't seem to be overly complicated. Or, well, he'll have to look up what 'simmer' means, but other than that, he's set.

    The only thing he needs now is probably ground meat. His mom was always notorious for her canned goods collection, meaning he was definitely well off in anything encased in metal. That checked most ingredients off his list. And, he was kinda just hoping she also owned chili powder.

     Due to a minor car crash and a broken arm three months prior, Ben has been living in his mother's apartment. He helped out, would assist her in the little things she had trouble with during her temporary loss of her dominant hand. It worked out mostly. He got to take a small break from his stuffy office job to work from 'home', leaving behind the big city to return to his earlier suburban life.

     And, other than the recent death of his only family member, his life was going pretty well. He had a mediocre job working for an insurance company, phone calls all day but no video chats, all the better. He made it into Georgia Tech with no scholarships under his belt. Got okay grades, gained weight but managed to lose it, hell, he even went to parties. He lived the typical, college kid life. He was told he was going to make it far, he was told he was something special, neither were true but he's fine with it now. Most mornings he even runs.

    He thinks he might even be okay, now, after everything that's happened recently, if only the cops were a little more help. You know, if they could've just given him an answer that made an ounce of sense, he would've been fine. Accident, robbery, murder, anything's better than a 'wild animal' attack. Who believes that shit?

     If he was anything less of ordinary, he'd probably have thrown a few punches. Beat the answer out of them, yeah. But, no, he simply said 'okay' and went on with life. Well, he actually drank himself clueless for about three days until he was ready to cry for another four.

     But, he's over that now. The funeral was more than a week ago, he boxed up her room and he's made a point to continue leaving the house. The last thing she'd want would be a hermit for a son.

     He even considers grocery shopping to be an accomplishment.

     Only one last thing on the list: coffee. No creature known to man can survive a day without the substance, well, except for those confusing folks who drink tea. Ben has little to no respect for anyone who can make it through life without the stuff. He definitely can't, but that might be a side effect of his caffeine addiction all thanks to insomnia.

     Ben Braeden tries to live a normal life, he really does, but truth is, he's not a normal person. He wraps himself in small talk and clothes himself in the latest trends, but he still struggles through everyday life. Maybe it was the absence of a father figure, maybe it was the lack of friends. Now, it might be the death of his mother.

     He hasn't gone on a date in two years either.

     Long ago, he was a fun kid. He had lots of friends, lots of everything and anything a kid could ever want. But, that's over now.

     "Dammit," he mutters. His hand rests on his forehead for a moment before grabbing the cheapest bag of coffee grounds he sees. Forty dollars, that's all he brought. He just hopes he has a little more in his car.

     He's hated this town as long as he can remember. Spent most of his late teenage years here, yes, but liked it, no. It's too quiet, not enough going on. He used to long to escape to the city, but now he just wishes it were as foggy as it always seemed. How he longs to just get through a day without someone saying "I'm sorry for your loss". Damn right you're sorry, sorry that nobody in this stupid town cares enough to give me an explanation!

     He just, he really needs a break. This was supposed to be his break, away from work and all that, but now he can't seem to close his eyes without the world banging at his walls. Maybe he needs peace of mind, maybe he needs sleep, or maybe, he just needs his mother back.

• • •

     After what feels like ages, Ben leaves the store in one swift motion. Or, he drops his half-gallon of milk and lets loose a nasty string of curses before driving away, hopefully unseen.

     He's on the edge, once again, working hard for a bottom-of-the-stack paycheck which is still generous for the amount of skill he has at his job. He's good with numbers, numbers are simple. One solid, unchangeable answer. People, on the other hand, require more work. This is why, to this day, Ben enjoys numbers much more. He's kinda screwed now, though, since he has to pay his mother's rent.

     God, he hates the whole 'adult' thing.

     And so, right now, he sits out on his mother's porch listening to heavy metal. The really loud, awful kind that for some reason makes him feel better. It's kind of like reverse psychology, he thinks. It drives others off their rockers, absolutely nuts, but for him, it just sounds calming. It's like he's going through his teenage rebellion stage right now, in his twenties. Well deserved, though, seeing he never had one to begin with. He's always been that kid who's just been there, not really doing much. Now, he's not a kid but he's also not ready to be independent either. He hates people; but right about now, he really needs someone.

     And, call it what you will, but someone heard him. Fate, destiny, or maybe some stoner in Kentucky who has magical powers, but someone or something decided to offer him a little help in that moment.

     He admits, though, that help kinda hurts.

     "Hey, jackass," a girl yells. He gets up to look over the railing; something hits him square in the throat. "Turn off the freaken music before I come up there and beat you up or something!"

     He wants to say something witty, yell at her back. Instead, all his body weight slams into the railing. There's a loud snap, a scream, and then he hits the ground.

     He's doing fine, though, with the whole life thing. Or, at least most days he is. He may not be the most social, or smart, or happy, but he's doing okay.

     Just, today it seems, he's stuck with spilled milk and his body splayed against the dirt. The music's still blaring, the cars still continue on the road in front of the place, and now, now some blond girl's hovering over his face, mouth gaping open.

     "Oh shit..."

     And, then he's out.