Scream † Castiel (UNDER REWRITING)

Chapter 1 ⸸ Misadventures

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     ONCE, WHEN I WAS a young girl, maybe six or seven, I had snuck out of my house late at night. I ran to very edge of my small backyard in my familiar suburban neighbourhood and stared at the sky.

     I don't remember much, but I swear to this day I heard people talking to me. I truly believed they were angels. My mother had come from the house and found me staring at the sky in the dead of night. She wondered what I was doing. I was listening to the "angels" talk, but she hadn't believed me.

     Years after that night, she had me in every sort of therapy you could think of. They couldn't find much, other than the Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I was diagnosed at age fifteen. It was like she wanted me to be crazy.

     Sometimes, when all was quiet, I would call out to them, maybe you could call it praying, but I wasn't religious. I didn't believe in God, but I believed in angels. Some people had their faith, some had imaginary friends. Anything other than themselves that they could believe in, and I had the angels. My mother swears I'm crazy, or was, at least. The doctors blamed my anxiety and insisted I received 24/7 care, but my mother refused.

     The anxiety started when I first met my father, John Winchester. He was at my house one afternoon and I met him after I got home from school. I was twelve at the time.

     He came, and we talked for what seemed like hours about anything we could find. I absolutely loved him from the moment I met him. Of course, not questioning where he had been the past twelve years, but then he left. He never came back. I've hated him ever since.

     He filled me with so much hope and joy, and then he just took it away like it didn't matter, like I didn't matter.

     When he left, I begged for the angels to do something to help me, but they did nothing. That was the moment I believed I was crazy, and when I got no response, not even a "no", I lost my faith in the angels.

     That was seven years ago, now I'm nineteen. I graduated high school last year and still, as a high school graduate, have no idea what I want to do with my life. My mother suggested I take a few years off from school to decide. She says people do it all the time, but not in this town.

     I guess I've been avoiding everyone I know. Probably because I feel ashamed for being so indecisive. Everyone I went to school with is preparing for university or college, or is attending. At least they know what they want to be. I have absolutely no clue, and I feel terrible about that.

     I can't help it. I feel like there's something else out there. Something bigger than me, that I'm a part of. I believe that I'm supposed to be doing something so much greater than avoiding my education. Everything else like university or a getting a job just feels mundane and unimportant.

     I don't know what to do about how I feel. Instead, I sit outside the coffee shop a few blocks away from my house. I try to soak up the hot sun. Sipping my herbal, mint tea I read my favourite book, 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. My favourite of the characters being Atticus, for his outstanding bravery in standing up for what is just. I wish to be like him, I'd like to help people. I want to be something more important than who I am in this small town.