Control - Dean Winchester [1]

14 ; Undisclosed Emotions & Murderous Vehicles

 WILL CORRECT GRAMMATICAL ERRORS SOON

            Odessa didn't like Cassie.

            She wasn't entirely certain why the attractive mocha-skinned woman irked the Guardian, she was only introduced merely hours ago, and though there hadn't been a valid justification as to why, the brunette with bouncy curls aggravated Odessa. Perhaps the vague notion was because Cassie assumed her charcoal knee-high boots coordinated with her jean skirt and tweed jacket. Odessa mentally scolded herself for concluding an illogical opinion solely on her choice of attire. 

            "My mother's in pretty bad shape," Cassie said, quickly entering the room with a tray in both hands. "I've been staying with her. I wish she wouldn't go off by herself. She's been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about dad." Cassie's back was facing Odessa, who was compressed between Sam and Dean. Briefly, Odessa felt condemned for criticizing the ghastly fabric of her skirt while she was grieving for her father's death. The culpability vanished as Cassie's thick wedges collided against the wooden panels.

            Cassie poured warm tea into glass mugs, "He was scared. He was seeing things." Dean swiftly questioned her statement. "He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him." She replied, and Odessa furrowed her eyebrows while observing her movements. She glimpsed in Dean's direction, whose gaze was fixated on Cassie's spherical curls, which reminded Odessa of springs as Cassie hastily nodded her head, and she averted her attention back to the darkened emblem partly concealed by her electrum-whip on her forearm. An unpleasant knot of some sorts formed in her abdomen.

            "He didn't talk about a driver, just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear," Cassie handed the three the mugs after adding sugar cubes. "And in the accident, dad's truck was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big." Odessa refrained from uttering abruptly 'that's what she said', and sipped the tea instead. She also abstained herself from speaking in general, considering the irregular sensation blossoming in her abdomen. Perhaps she was sick, a fever or mild cold.

            "Now, you're sure this dent wasn't there before?" Sam questioned.

            Cassie replied as she took her seat across from Odessa. "He sold cars, always drove a new one. There wasn't a scratch on that thing. It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks from dad's car leading right to the edge where he went over. One set of tracks— his." Sympathy oozed from the three as Cassie's doe eyes dwelled with crystalline tears.

            "And the first person killed was a friend of your father's?"

             Cassie quickly corrected, "Best friend," She said, "Clayton Solmes. They owned a car dealership together. Same thing— dent, no tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about dad," Her tone had risen considerably as she spoke, an evident passion lacing her tongue. "'He lost control of his car." Odessa nodded softly, understanding the hollow minds of police officers. They couldn't fathom the situation, so they attempt comprehend something they've misinterpreted. She sipped her bland tea, grimacing at the warmth. Crimson stained the rim where her lips pressed against.