I nodded my head and went back to imagining a life without these hallucinations.


Dean's POV

After Lennox and I finished eating the pie, we went outside and sat on the porch. She was reading a book while I downed the PBR in my hand. I looked over at the small girl and for the first time noticed how pretty she is.

She had silky brown hair and bright green eyes. She looked tired. She had a contemplative look on her face while she read. I may or may not have had to fix my pants a bit.

She was reading Macbeth. Sam advised against reading it because of how disturbing some of the things the characters say are but she wouldn't have it. She insisted on that book. She claims to have read it in high school, but something about how persistent she was about that book makes me think that she had some memories attached to it.

I checked my watch and sighed at seeing how late it was. I looked back over at the disturbed girl only to see that she fell asleep. I got up from the chair and closed her book. I set the book down on the table, but apparently not very close to the middle because the book fell to the ground and some loose papers fell out.

I put them back in but one caught my eye: a poem by a C.T. Brandt called Today.

I feel sad today.

Depressed today.

Not really like myself today.

I don't know why today,

Of the all days,

For me to not like myself today.

Is it my hair, today?

My mind today?

My body, my skin, my face today?

Is it the time of day?

The hurt today?

The restless want and need of today?

The wind today,

The sky today,

The heavens above the Earth today?

I don't know why today,

Of all the days,

To not be like myself today.

I shook my head at the depressing poem and picked up the girl and took her to her room. After I tucked her in, I took Sam's laptop and looked up this C.T. Brandt person.

He/she is nonexistent. Not one person on any poetry site, blog, or forum has ever heard of this author. Which led me to one conclusion: she wrote the poem under a pseudonym.

I found Sam in the study and showed him the paper.

"Who wrote this?" he asked.

"Lennox. I looked up this person and no one, anywhere, has ever heard of a C.T. Brandt."

"This is kind of depressing and sad."

"No shit, Sherlock." I rolled my eyes at his and received a bitch-face in turn. "I knew she had some problems but this is just sad. We have to help her Sam."

"No shit, Sherlock"


Lennox's POV

I woke up slowly and when my eyes opened they were met with a bright blue.

"Well, hello there darling."

And I had no choice but to shriek.