Sneaking out turns sour.

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Okay, so this is the prologue and first chapter of the second book of OMG I’m in supernatural. I don’t think you have to read the first book to understand the second book but I would appreciate it if you did.

The thing about being Molly Winchester.

Prologue

I shot my first gun when I was nine. Daddy couldn’t get to his gun coz the vampire had kicked it out his hand. I was meant to sit in the car but I couldn’t just sit there and wait.

I was not the sit and wait kind of girl.

So I picked up the gun and I shot the vampire in the head with silver bullets. That gave daddy enough time to stake the son of bitch.

Daddy was furious that I had even come near a gun.

Daddy was no fun.

He was just an old fart hunter.

I would be a great, young Winchester hunter.

The greatest Winchester you ever saw.

Uncle Sammy said that daddy was just upset…. That daddy needed time to heal.

Heal from my mother’s death.

I remembered only a few things about my mother. I remembered her long hair tickling my cheek. The way she always smelt of some sort of food. The way she sung hillbilly country songs to get me to sleep.

I have a few pictures of her. The ones uncle Sammy saved. Daddy has a picture of us in his black leather jacket. That’s the only picture he saved. The rest he burnt down.

In the picture mama held me, our noses touching and she was smiling at me. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

She was the love of my father’s life.

Uncle Sammy said dad hadn’t been the same since.

I wished daddy spoke about mama more.

Sammy did an okay job at telling stories but he loved mama like a sister. I wanted to know why daddy fell in love with mama.

CHAPTER 1

My name was Molly Christian Winchester. I was sixteen and I sure as hell was not going to get caught. I had jumped out the window, swung from the tree outside and hopped to the floor. I was busy doing air punches, the victorious kind.

“Celebrating a bit too soon Molls,”

My dad was Dean Winchester.

He was an asshole. 

And I got caught.

God dammit.

He was the controlling kind of father, who was more of dictator fan than a democratic. I glared at him from under the tree. He stood at his stupid million years old Impala. I hated him at that moment. In his stupid leather jacket that was far too old and crinkled.

He was being such an ass.

“I’m going to that party dad,”

“Yeah, you’re not. So get back inside now,” I could tell dad wanted to laugh. He was smiling in his voice. I could just tell.

Hence the bit where I said my dad was an ass.

I sighed. I was so tired of his shit.

I stepped forward.

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