The Runt of the Litter

TGIS (thank god it's Sam)

Note: heyyy so, I swear I'm not on a full blown break again. I've been really sick the last couple weeks. Turns out I might have an autoimmune disorder but I have to go see a bunch of new doctors in like three different hospitals to find out for sure 😀 livin that chronic illness life 🤟

Fear not, though, I have six or seven stories for Anna that are partway done, and I'm writing as much as I can. My brain is still very much focused on these characters, so im not about to disappear completely.

Thank you so much for being patient and caring. I know I haven't been good about answering comments lately either but I see them all and I see the votes, and I appreciate every single one. Thanks for being here 💜

Anna is thirteen in this one, and it's short again. But like I've said, there's some more plot-laden stuff in the works 😉

TGIS (thank god it's Sam)

The purple fabric of her converse sneaker was made brighter by the artificial light of the lamp beside her bed as Anna bounced her foot against the wall in time with This Ain't a Scene. The music blared so loudly through her earbuds that it could have been heard, though indistinctly, by those around her if she weren't alone in the motel room. She stared blankly at the water marks on the ceiling. Her eyes were bloodshot around the green irises and her eyelids kept sliding down as if she were about to fall asleep. But she wasn't any more sleep deprived than usual. But she'd been scared enough for the past few hours that it was possible the adrenaline was taking its toll and leaving her fatigued.

Outside there were several men shouting. They had been there for hours, and Anna had lost hope that they would be shooed away by the manager when she went to peek past the curtain at them about an hour ago and noticed that the manager was among the group of angry men. All of them had threateningly held a knife or gun at some point during the heated conversation and Anna had worried more than once that there would be violence outside before or, worse, when her brothers get back.

As the noise overtook the music blaring into her ears, Anna pulled one earbud out and sat up on the edge of the bed, looking tentatively toward the window again.

"I'll tear this whole fucking place down, Tony! Just gimme the damn word!"

Anna flinched at the suddenness and vehemence of the shout, standing abruptly without even thinking about it. She felt vulnerable all alone and with no knowledge of what was going on. Quietly, worried unnecessarily that somehow she wasn't safe despite the walls, curtains, and locked door separating her from the commotion, Anna unplugged her earbuds from her phone.

"You do that and you ain't never gettin' your money, Asshole."

With slightly shaky hands, Anna located her contacts and called Dean.

"I'll bust in the fucking door to every room in this place, Tony! I want my damn money. You won't give it to me, I'll damn well fucking take it!"

The call was on the second ring and Anna bounced her knee with nervous energy, throwing agitated glances at the windows and door on the other side of the room.

"I don't got your fucking money, man, or you'd have it. How many times we gotta go over this shit, huh? We been here all morning and you still ain't got it through your thick fuckin' skull. You want me to tell ya another thousand times? Get the fuck outta here and I'll have it next week."

Dean still hadn't answered and Anna whimpered her fear into the receiver though there was no one on the other end to hear her. His answering machine kicked in and Anna began to wonder if he was ignoring her or if he was in some kind of danger that was worse than hers.