Prologue: A Time For Dying

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Word Count: 1,700

Please read the description before continuing.

TRIGGER WARNING!: Discovered suicide.

I'M SORRY!

×One Week Ago, Dean's POV×

Just another average, boring day. Or so I thought. It started out as another average, boring day anyways. Never did I think something so horrible could happen to me today.

Let's just start from the beginning.

I woke up to the loud beeping noise. I slammed my fist on the snooze button of my alarm and rolled out of bed, groaning.

Another day of purgatory.

I trudged over to my closet and got out a pair of jeans, a black tank top, and a dark red button up overshirt. I then walked over to my dresser and grabbed a pair of boxers before walking to the bathroom to shower.

After showering, I got dressed and walked downstairs. My father was sprawled across the couch surrounded by various liquor containers whether it be bottle or can. I roll my eyes and walk past him. I didn't worry about being quiet. It would take a band of ten bagpipes to wake that fucker up.

When I walked into the kitchen, I found just what I was looking for:

My freakishly tall younger brother.

I smiled. "Hiya, Sammy!"

"It's Sam," he grumbled. I chuckled a little and ruffled his hair to which he responded by swatting my hand away. "Don't do that! I just brushed it!"

"It looked like that before. No matter how much you brush it, it's not going to be any less messy," I walked by him and over to the fridge. I opened the freezer part and got out two frozen waffles, popping them in the toaster.

As I waited, I sat down by Sam at the island counter. He was reading.

"Whatcha readin' Sammy?"

"The Scarlet Letter. It's for our english class. It's actually really good," He said, not looking up from the crimson books pages.

"Whatever you say, Sammy," I chuckle. The waffles soon popped up out of the toaster and I grabbed them and put them on a paper plate.

"Come on. Let's go. We're gonna be late," I stated as I put on my letterman jacket, grabbed my keys and made my way to my baby. I ran my hand along the top of the car, feeling her smooth paint job.

"Hey Baby. Did you miss me?" I smiled widely as I got in.

"Dean. Stop talking to your car. You're so creepy," Sam chimed in as he got in on the passenger side.

"Don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us," I muttered and caressed the steering wheel, turning on the car. Sammy just rolled his eyes.

The ride there was spent in a comfortable silence. It didn't take very long either, ten minutes maybe?

I soon pulled into the school parking lot and pulled into a parking spot reserved for football players.

Sam was practically out of the car before it even stopped. He walked over to his group of friends.

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