On No Ones Side (A Supernatural FanFiction)

Burning Bridges

Salty tears ran down my cheeks, burning hot like the flames before me. I knew it hadn't been my fault that my mother died, but still I felt responsible for her death. Any naturally sane person would've checked themselves into a mental institute. I guess I didn't qualify with that group. I hadn't had any control to start out with, it came to me in my mind. Not whispering words like in one of these cheap horror movies that I used to go to with my friends where the girl hears voices during a seance then loses control and everyone ends up dead. No, same ending except it shoved me into the darkest recesses of my mind as I was walking home from school one day. I could still see and touch and taste, my senses seemed sharper in fact. They were still my hands holding the blades, still my eyes looking at the wreckage just not me the one using it.

I don't know why it (he-she whatever) chose me anyways. I wasn't the fittest person in the world nor was I a six feet tall model. I had a round shape around my whole body, my dad used to say it was just baby fat yet still at sixteen years old, there it was. People called me cute. Not the attractive kind of cute but the adorable-six year old riding a bike type of cute. It constantly annoyed me. People would ruffle my short copper colored hair and call me kiddo or sweetie all the time. Every time I went to grab a cup of coffee the clerk would always look at me, like: What the hell is a nine year old doing at Starbucks? I had high cheekbones that would sometimes shine when I smiled and it was bright outside and my green eyes would also squint. But at the moment I didn't feel like smiling at all.

The very first thing possessed me did was rob a gun store. I had never shoplifted before or ever even dared to hold a gun, yet somehow I didn't have any problems with doing both while shooting everyone in the shop. I kept thinking that I was insane or crazy, that I ought to be in an asylum. The fact that I had no will of my own made me terrified and I kept wondering what I was going to do next. The first shot scared the crap out of me and I didn't feel a thing at all. I couldn't, after all, I wasn't the one controlling my emotions. I wanted to cry or to crawl into a ball shake with terror at the act of violence that I had just executed. Yet still, nothing. It wasn't as if wasn't trying to stop, I honest to god was fighting like hell to get control back, but it was just like punching a brick wall; the more you tried, the more tired and hurt you got and still you would get nowhere. I stopped trying to fight so hard but instead decided on wearing down the mental barrier that stood between me and control.

"Annie!" The shopkeeper yelled, "What the hell are you doing?!" he finished frantically.

The man who owned the store was named Harley Jackson and was my next door neighbor since as long as I could remember. Black with a large demeanor, he and my dad would go out on week-long hunting trips together while my mom and his wife talked together like housewives from the 1960's. Our family had been there for him when she passed away two years ago due to terminal cancer, and he seemed to be as much of a part of the family as either of my parents. I could hear it thinking in my mind too, dark, gory and evil thoughts. But not only that, it could also read my memory. Possesed-Annie grinned wickedly and I knew that it was pointed not at Harley, but at me. At this point, I was certain that it wasn't me doing these things even though it was my body.

"Just testing out this one," It said with my voice "I'm not quite sure if this one is right." Pointing the gun at his head.

"Annie! I don't know what you're doing or what's going on with you, but I do know this isn't you I'm calling the-"

"Got that right at least." I heard my voice say before shooting the gun. I desperately hoped that it would miss, that it would hit his leg instead of his forehead. But I however I knew that the shot would hit its target. It probably wouldn't have been as bad if I didn't feel my finger pulling the trigger. If I hadn't felt the laughed escape my throat as his body fell to the floor, blood gushing from the wound, but for a second, just for a small period of time, the shock let me gain control. Thinking that if I died so would the thing controlling me, I pointed the weapon at my temple and pulled the trigger.