DECENT IMAGE, dean winchester

chapter one

decent image
chapter one, running

WHEN DALTON CAME TOO, her back was against cool ground, it's moisture seeped through the back of her black, linen shirt. She rubbed her eyes as she started to sit up, the ache her body felt caused a groan to leave her lips. 

She tried to push her self up by using the ground as a spring. As Dalton stood on her feet, a loud ringing caused her to stagged, with her palms on her knees she doubled over in pain. The excruciating screech pierced her body, it consumed all her senses. After a couple minutes, the sound had ceased. 

Dalton stood in the middle of the dark woods, the only thing that surrounded her were the tall tress and the only light given to her came from the moon. She started to walk in the direction of the largest star in the sky, she wasn't sure where it would lead but she hoped that it was somewhere. As her feet padded the ground, she flinched at the sound of breaking twigs and shuffling leaves. 

Soon her fear had become her so much she began to run, the star was long forgotten as she took large strides toward the direction she had chosen. After what felt like years of running, her body collapsed in exhaustion. She sat hunched over, as her stomach churned from the exercise. Her breathing had labored as she attempted to regulate her puffs. 

Looking up, Dalton spotted a church, a small broken down fixture was barely visible, if not for the small light that flickered from within. She stood her self up and walked toward the church, her mind rang with worry and her fingers wreathed as she clasped her hands together. Taking a deep breathe, she opened the door, a loud creek boomed through the premise. 

She didn't hear any scurrying or footsteps so she hurriedly entered. The was dimmer than she expected, majority of the room was still dark. She used her hands to make her way toward something familiar, her hands touched the cool, wooden pews as she made her way toward the alter, she almost tripped on the steps but balanced herself where she located the direction of the candle light. 

"Hello?" She called out, her voice cracked as she neared the light. As Dalton stepped past the threshold, she brace herself to see someone, anyone but instead was met with the a single candle, flickering- desperate to keep itself alive. 

She heard the floor board behind her creek, as she turned around in a panicked haze, a hard blow landed against the side of her face. She collapsed to the ground, her body dazed and falling into a peaceful sleep. 

...

Dalton had barely reached consciousness when she felt herself being sprayed with water. The liquid trickled down her face, out of habit her tongue ran over her bottom lip, the liquid tasted salty. The bottle was held by a stern looking man, who looked tried yet determined. His short brown hair didn't flinch at his movements, just like his face didn't when she screamed. 

Her took her arm, regardless of how she attempted to escape from her confines, the rope was harsh against the skin around her ankles. The short haired man pulled out a small silver knife from the belt of his pants and sliced Dalton's arm. A thin cut sat on her lower arm, blood circulated the abrasion. Her eyes dripped with tears from the sharp sting planted upon her. 

"She's clean," The short haired man said, Dalton furrowed her eyebrows when a second man, this time he was taller, his eyes wider and his hair longer. 

"What's she doing here then?" The long haired man asked with a curt not. 

"Don't kill me," Dalton mumbled, her words barely audible. Her hands had been tied again, this time behind her back, she wriggled to get free but made no progress. 

"How did you find us?" His tone cut deeper than his knife, his deep voiced rumbled within the room. 

"I don't know," Dalton whispered, her chest moved rapidly as she hyperventilated, "I went drinking last night, I woke up in the woods- I walked for so long before I saw a light here," She explained with the best of her ability, she wondered if she had just interrupted a mafia meeting or some sorts. 

"Dean, let her go, she's just lost," The long haired man spoke, turning his sympathetic eyes toward the shorter one. 

"Oh- and the ringing, this awful ringing," Dalton whispered, trying to recollect her thoughts from the night, however this last sentence made the two men perk, they both stared at the girl in confusion. 

"Like TV static?" The short haired man asked, taking a few steps toward the girl. 

"Yes exactly," She reiterated, shaking her head in confusion. 

"Angels," They both whispered, confused. 

Before any other questions could be asked, a load shriek came from the front of the church.