An alarm clock blare wakes me up.
Just another day, I sighed. I couldn't help but feel like there was something more out there, instead of the boring life I led.
My dad, Dean Winchester, popped his head in my bedroom.
"Time to get up!" He called, before going to get his cup of coffee.
I sighed once more before throwing my covers back. I got dressed in my stupid uniform for the prep school Dad insisted on me going to.
I walked into the kitchen to see Dad already dressed in his business suit with his hair slicked back. It kinda made him look like a douche.
I climbed into the back of his Pruis, yes he drives a freaking Pruis, because he won't let me ride in the front. He's so boring.
He cranked on the car and some rock music started to play.
"And he's oh-" I smiled. Classic rock is awesome. So of course Dad puts it on the news.
Boring.
He drops me off in front of my school with a wave. I quickly find my friend Riley and we make our way to class.
Riley is a short, pale skinned girl with fiery red hair. We became best friends the day she punched Kyle Mathews in the mouth for trying to look up my skirt. Since we had both skipped enough grades to be in fifth grade, we were especially close.
"Any strange dreams lately?" She asked as we moved through the crowded hallway.
"Yeah." I answered, as I dodged a kid with a giant backpack. "The people with the black eyes again. The weird dude in a trench coat."
"Maybe it's some weird way of your brain telling you to add some more excitement to your life." Riley suggested as we opened our homeroom's door.
"My dad's the most boring guy on the planet. He won't let me do anything." I huffed, as we sat down.
"He's bringing you to work tomorrow for our project, right? Maybe something cool will happen?" Riley handed me a pencil. She knew I always forgot one.
"Whatever. His job is super boring too." She couldn't answer, as our teacher entered the class.
Mr. Crowley's punishment for talking could be serious torture.
The next morning was a lot like the last.
The only difference being I was allowed to wear what I wanted, which was my prized Led Zeppelin t-shirt and jeans. Dad hated it, but Dad hated anything classic rock related.
I think it has something to do with Grandpa John, Dad's biological father. Dad doesn't talk about it or anything else before Grandpa Bobby and Grandma Ellen adopted him. All I know is that if he was alive, we sure wouldn't be visiting him for Christmas.
We arrived at Dad's office building, Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc, to find police cars everywhere. Slightly disturbed, Dad led me to his office.
We came across a dead body on the way there.
I feel like I should be more disturbed about it, but the dead guy wasn't really bothering me. That was probably bad.
People in coroner outfits rolled the body bag past. A guy in a short sleeve, yellow shirt watched and sighed, he looked strangely familiar. Dad and several other people, some in suits and some in the yellow shirts, also watched. The guy and Dad noticed each other and shared a weird eye contact. Dad addressed another guy in a suit.
"Something about this seem not right to you?" Since when had a Dad cared?
"Uh, yeah, try the whole thing. I'm telling you, man, I'll never eat popcorn again." The guy answered.
"Yeah, right." Dad sighed.
On the way to the elevator I hear someone say the guy killed himself. That's super depressing.
We were in Dad's office. I was doing some overdue homework while Dad was at his computer. I looked up to see he was accessing the Sandover personnel file for Paul Dunbar, or the dead guy as I've been calling him in my head.
It says his retirement party was supposed to be in two weeks.
"Two weeks?" I hear Dad mumble to himself. That's weird. Who kills themselves with two week left until retirement?
A knock at the door and a guy comes in.
Dad looks up from his computer.
"Hi. Ian, is it?" He smiles. "Yeah, come on in. Yesterday you filled out a 445-T and no problem, just a few errors when we did your switch over to Vista. So I'm sure you're used to filling out the dash-R's, am I right?"
Ian looks sick, "Oh, no."
Dad tries to calm him. "No no no. It's fine. It's fine. I just need you to redo one today so I can get the show on the road with the invoicing."
Dad pushes a paper over the desk and smiles. Ian looks at it, terrified.
"Oh my god." Ian says wide eyed. Is it just me or is this guy freaking out for no reason?
Dad tries to chill the guy out again, "No, it's fine. Just refile it and we're square."
"I can't believe I did this." Ian is really tripping over this paperwork.
Dad begins to notice something's wrong.
"I can't believe I-I can't believe I did this." The guy says.
Dad, once again, tries to calm him. "Hey, guy, come on."
It doesn't work. "No, no. It affected profits. It-I screwed up. I-I can't-I can't-I am so sorry. I-how could I do that? I failed Sandover. I failed the company."
"All right, why don't you sit down, Ian?" Dad offers.
"No." Ian saids, before he runs out of the room.
Dad shoots me a look that says stay here, before running after him. "Ian? Ian. Hey."
Apparently Ian took paperwork really seriously, because he died in the bathroom. He stabbed himself in the neck with a pencil.
Dad was buttoning up a fresh shirt. His other one was all bloody. Man, had it been an eventful day. Wait until I told Riley.
He looked up at a knock.
"Come on in. Shut the door." The familiar looking guy from earlier comes in and closes the door behind himself.
"Who the hell are you?" Dad growls. The guy looks at me. "That's my daughter, Lilly. Now tell me who you are!"
"I'm not sure I know." The guy answers.
"What the hell does that mean?" Dad questioned.
The guy introduces himself. "Sam Wesson. I started here three weeks ago."
"All right. You cornered me in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now..." Dada trails off.
"Now what?" Sam questions.
A pause. Silence filled the room. This is the most interesting thing that's happened this week.
"Now nothing. I, uh...so you started working here three weeks ago, huh?" Dad finally saids. Sam nods.
"Yeah, me too." Dad answered. His last job was just as boring as this one.
Dad unscrews the top of a bottle, it's his nasty healthy crap.
"It's the Master Cleanse. You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business." He saids to Sam. Dad takes a drink.
"When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?" Sam questioned.
"I don't know. I don't know what I saw." Dad answers. It kinda weirded me out. I've never seen Dad unsure about anything.
"Wait. Are you saying that-did you see a ghost?" Sam asks, with wide eyes.
"I was freaking out. The guy penciled his damn neck." Dad responds.
But Sam is too busy freaking out. "You did, didn't you? Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?" So now we're believing in ghost stories?
Dad's a little skeptical. "So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?"
Dad and Sam finally sit down, in unison.
"I know it sounds crazy." Sam saids. "But yes. That's what I'm telling you."
"Uh-huh. Based on what?" Dad challenges.
Sam is quiet for a second, looking for an answer.
"Instinct." He saids, finally,
Dad looks down, shaking his head, then back up. "I've got the same instinct." He replies.
"Seriously? You know those dreams I was telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts." Sam saids carefully, like he's waiting for Dad to say he's being ridiculous.
"Yeah." Wait, what?
"And then it turns out that there's a real ghost." Sam sighs.
"So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?" Dad scoffs.
Sam looks at him weirdly. "No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little." He pulls papers out of his bag. "I think I found a connection between the two guys."
Sam passes over the papers. Dad looks at them.
"You broke into their email accounts?" Dad questions. I think I like this dude, even if he's crazy.
"I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity." He justifies. I wonder if he will teach me these skills.
"Nice." Dad compliments.
"Yeah. Okay. So it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four."
"HR's on seven." Dad saids.
"Exactly." Sam responds.
"Should we go check this out?" Dad asks.
"Like right now?" Sam answers, looking at me.
"No. No, it's getting late. You're right." Dad relents.
"I am dying to check this out right now." Sam saids back.
"Right?" Dad asks.
I gotta say, I'm curious about this myself.
So of course I don't get to come.
I got to sit in Dad's boring office while he went traipsing around with the Sam.
So freaking boring.