Chapter 1: I'm SEM. Continuation 3
I don't know what number it is. A month like September. Don't forget to specify.
These days were so similar to each other that it was no wonder to get confused.
I'm starting to keep my diary anew, as if I'm starting a new life. Like four years ago, I started the last diary. The previous one was taken away by the police during the raid. I was raided by a nobleman, and I was hit on the head with a baton so hard that I barely remember what had happened to me before.
I'm sitting on the steps of the porch of the "Pryvat Place" Motel. Judging by the name, his master is very arrogant. Motel, ha! In the room, you can see a dog booth in the backyard through the walls. However, it is empty. It's a pity.
Sam and Dean were brothers. I wouldn't have said anything. I bet Scott wouldn't have guessed. They were different, I'd rather think they were a couple. The damn owner of the dash porter of this motel dilator did exactly that until they explained it to him. I shouldn't have. I wouldn't explain anything. I don't care what the old man who looks like a bat thinks. I saw how he looked at me. I especially stared at sneakers that almost fell off my feet. Yes, everything is clear, I've seen people like me. Well, I don't care.
Hell, how to get money for new shoes. Yesterday, I wouldn't have thought about it, I just went to my boss and offered to introduce my mouth to his dick for a small fee. Such old men cluck funny when you suck their dicks. And then you can write a pitiful story about an unhappy childhood or cruel robbers. Then they can throw in a dozen more on top. But now for some reason I can't go looking for clients. Not when these brothers are next to me. I don't understand why. Although Dean knew who I was right away, they didn't look at me like I was dirty on their soles. Yeah, I don't remember the last time they drove me somewhere for nothing, not to buy me food. Or a notebook.
Especially the notebook.
He might have a shameless girl on the cover, maybe that's a hint from Dean, but he doesn't like me, unlike Sam. Even though he wanted to give me a prank, he suddenly got to the point. I'm going to crucify my life in this notebook, and she's a slut. When you don't have the money, she turns her back on you. And even if she caresses you sometimes, it's only to kick you in the face. The master of life is only the one who has it and spits on others...
So, Dean, if you think I'm worthy of this big-ass girl, thank you. It was very important to me. More important than potatoes, sneakers, and even a separate room in this shitty motel...
When it gets so dark that I hardly know the letters I'm writing, I slam my notebook and go to my room. No magnetic cards - the shiny iron key opens my door with a thousand hands. Through the thin wall, you can hear Dean and Sam arguing in the next room. Strangely, I thought they didn't need words to communicate with each other. But I'm not going to listen - suddenly I really want to sleep. Somehow I feel like something happened to me today... I am not a fan of pathos words, but the "fateful" will be in the vein.
I don't close the window that is open - I'm used to sleeping outdoors in the warm season. And before I fall asleep, I see even darker clouds in the darker sky. It seems to me that a storm is coming...
***
Chapter 2: Motel.
Sam wakes me up in the morning. He's scrubbing through my room door as carefully as my mother probably did. I'm not answering the knock, it's hard for me to know where I am right away, so even that quiet sound scares me. Sam drums his fingers again, now a little louder, and then tries to open the door. Naturally, he's not getting anywhere, the lock is closed from the inside for two turns, but his attempt makes me get out of bed and spank three feet of barefoot on the old parquet floor.
Sam stands behind the door, moving from foot to foot. He smiles widely at me and holds out a paper bag.
- A sandwich, - says Sam. - There's not much to eat at the motel, so just give it a rest for now, and we'll eat normally on the road.
I thankfully nod and take the package. I couldn't eat at that diner yesterday, so my stomach immediately begins to hum a sandwich with melodic muttering, and my mouth is filled with saliva.
- Will you come to us later? We want to show you something.
I nod again, and he leaves.
Show something? What is he talking about? I was already in their room last night. Sam put me on the couch and collapsed next to the netbook in his hands, and Dean started walking from table to window sill, asking me a question about my mom. He made me feel like I was being questioned. Name, date of birth. It was all simple, but I didn't have any really useful information like insurance numbers or credit cards.