Adam's Revenge •~Supernatural~•

2. Trust Issues

•~MARIE~•

I put my phone away and started pacing around the room. I knew for a fact that my so called half brothers weren't going to trust me at first sight. I wouldn't, with the life I've been living these past three years and especially with the sour note we left off with on the phone. Being paranoid and suspicious 24/7 kind of came with the hunter life.

I knew these guys were hunters because my father told me as much. He didn't try to keep his other sons from the life like he tried with me and Adam. I still didn't know the story of how he had gotten into hunting in the first place. Maybe it was something I could figure out from my half brothers I was hopefully about to meet.

I left my mother's room and made my way to the stairs. Before I could reach them, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. I looked like a mess. My green eyes were swollen and my face was red from crying. I removed my glasses in order to wipe my eyes with my sleeve. My hair looked like a blonde bird's nest from practically living in my car from the trek from Florida to Minnesota. I tried to use my fingers as a painful comb, but to no avail. The end result was my eyes watering even more. As I continued to look into the mirror, I was painfully reminded of my twin brother. We looked practically identical, except for the whole boy/girl thing and he had blue eyes instead of green.

After my little pity party with the mirror, I left my former house and got in my truck. The man on the phone said that he would be at Yellow Tree Park within two hours so that gave me plenty of time to wash up and get something to eat.

Thank God the water still worked in the bathroom that connected to my bedroom. I washed my face and used a comb I found in the medicine cabinet to tame my unruly hair. I would have to look for a motel to check into later. There was no way I was staying in the house where my family died, and here I thought I was done with the grimy, cheap motel rooms.

After I finished washing up, I ate at a café by the name of Cousin Oliver's. It used to be my family's favorite place to eat. It wasn't fancy or anything, just a family owned food joint that sold really good burgers and salads.

Once I had finished my salad I ordered, I finally made my way to the park. It was a beautiful evening, my favorite time of day was right before the sun went down. When I pulled into a parking space, I realized my gas tank was empty.

Great, I thought. I might have to ask for a ride or either call a tow truck.

I sat on one of the park benches that rested between the parking lot and the playground. I had a lot of good memories on that playground with my brother. Where I'm sitting now is where my mother would sit and watch us play for hours on her days off from the hospital, and it was from this vantage point that I examined the different cars coming and going. I knew what car I was looking for; the unmistakable sound of the Impala's engine had been detectable when I was on the phone with my half brother.

I bounced my knee up and down in agitation. I hoped they could help me. I hoped they could tell me what happened to my family.

Another fifteen minutes of car gazing went by and all I've witnessed was a man who forgot he had set his coffee on top of his car and drove off, and a little girl who started bawling her eyes out when she dropped her hot dog in the parking lot. There was no '67 Chevy Impala in sight. The time wore on until I began to believe that the brothers weren't coming.

As soon as I stood up to leave, I heard the engine. I forced back the memories that came with that sound and gazed into the parking lot to see that the Impala had just pulled into one of the parking spaces.