Code Name: Angel Blood

Christmas of Disaster

December 21, 2003

I'm waiting for mom to come back from the hunt. Turns out it wasn't a shifter, instead it was a skin walker who happened to be a poisonous lizard. Who knew? Anyway, when mom gets back we're heading to Uncle Bobby's for Christmas. Bobby is an old friend of Mom's and said that we wouldn't be found. She didn't elaborate on that subject, so I didn't ask. I just hope she comes back in one piece, this time.

December 24, 2003

Today, mom got a call from a guy named John. She left the house, so she could yell at the dude. I followed her out into Bobby's Salvage Yard, but all she kept saying was: "she doesn't know who you are and never will". I guess it was an old boyfriend or something she was talking to, but she never did bring up the call. I'll ask Bobby who John is tomorrow. I better finish this up quick before mom sees my flashlight. Mom's drunk and pissed off, again.

December 25, 2003

Merry Christmas. Mom went on a rampage this morning. She woke up, started yelling, and didn't stop until after she had hit me a few dozen times. When she let up, I ran into the Salvage Yard and hid in an old car to cry. About sunset, Bobby came to see if I was okay; of course, I wasn't. When he came, I decided to ask him about John. All he would tell me is that his name was John Winchester and that he was Mom's boyfriend about 13 years ago. He also said he was an asshole. I hope I don't meet him anytime soon, because if I do he's going to get a piece of my mind.

Christmas that year was worse than normal. I hated having to hide out in Bobby's old cars, but it was the only place I could hide. For a solid month, I had scrapes and bruises from that day. Mom wouldn't let me leave the motel room for that amount of time either. The information about John was the only information I had about him until later; when I met, him face to face. And yeah, I had personal problems. Mom would come home drunk more and more often after that; which lead to more beatings. That's why for years after that, I would run away. The first time was a couple years before the Christmas incident; I was 11. So, yeah, my life sucked for a while, but the next set of journals will prove to be worse.