The Unforgettable

Lucas Cortez died the next day.
The sky was a magnificent red spectrum of colour when Alyssa stepped over the threshold of her front door that fateful morning. She wore her white tracksuit with the blue hem detail, but she didn’t realize what a mistake that would prove to be. She set off at a gentle jog onto the footpath next to the forest. Somehow she ended up in the heart of the woods, lost and alone. Just like Amber had been. Alyssa realized this and started to run. She could feel someone watching her; she heard a whisper of a dark chuckle floating on the wind. That was when she fell. She felt a sharp flare of pain going through her left angle as she struggled to get up; she managed to sit up, but that was all. She twisted herself around so she could crawl away if she had to. She tried to scream, but it came out a small whimper; there lying before her was a young boy, about her age, sprawled out on the ground. One arm had been torn off, one eye gorged out. His neck had been shredded to pieces and blood was still slowly trickling out of his mouth. His ravaged torso was covered in blood and his ribs were twisting out of his chest, broken and denatured, almost as if they were reaching out to grab her. Alyssa turned her body the other way, ready to limp away from the mutilated body of (who she’d finally identified as Lucas Cortez) her former friend. She let out a desperate cry as she laid eyes on what she’d tripped over; Lucas’ arm lay in the middle of two trees, directly in front of her face.
Everything went back.
When Alyssa awoke she was tucked in her bed, warm and away from the body; the body! Alyssa sat bolt upright, then leaped out of bed and ran to the window that looked out to the forest. No ambulances or cop cars. Had they even found the body? Was there even a body to be found? She could have imagined it; her mind had been messed up since Amber had died. As soon as she considered this, ten police cars rounded the corner headed for the forest. So it had happened.
But who had taken her home?

Alyssa shivered as she stepped out of the front door. She was on her way to visit her mother- something she hadn't done for 3 years. The reason for this is simple fact that she was crazy-her mother not Alyssa; Robyn Collins was schizophrenic and obsessed with demons. So it isn't very hard to realize where she would be staying: Roseavelt Asylum. Well, it was more of mental institute but it was still called the asylum by pretty much everyone.
The reason Alyssa was visiting was the fact that her mother knew demons like the back of her hand and the moment in the hallway when Damien’s eyes went black… well, it was killing her. She needed to know. She needed to know what killed her best friend: and she needed to kill it.
Alyssa stopped outside the building. The grey stone walls cast shadows over the rest of Morgandene, sucking out the last bit of uplifted spirits and replacing them with deep, dark depression laced with gut wrenching fear. Alyssa looked up at the dark, looming sign that clearly portrayed the message that a bunch of crazy people lived here. Yeah, she’d realized that a long time ago. Alyssa heaved open the heavy wooden door and stepped into… a hospital? They’d obviously renovated it but this was just… wow. The white walls replaced the grey stone, and plush seats replaced wooden benches in the waiting room. It was amazing. But what shocked her most was seeing Dean sauntering out of room 171 with a piece on paper in his hand. Room 171... Her mother’s room. Dean saw her and strolled over and handed her the paper. It had a bunch of information on demons.
“I thought you might want someone to go instead.” Dean shrugged, looking at the floor,
“Thank you,” she replied and hugged him.
The next few days passed in a blur: track the demon-find information- track the demon-another victim-track demon-victim-track demon-victim-information.
After 5 days of crap and 3 more deaths, Alyssa was unable to feel and even when they found the one weapon that could kill a demon all she did was smile. No jumping up and down, no “yes!!!” Just a smile, playing on the corner of her lips….
Dean began to notice she was becoming numb but, he just wanted to find the thing that killed his sister.
Eventually they tracked Constance to the woods, the ‘Connie’ façade long gone.
“You’d never do it! You don’t have the guts!” her Texas accent was fading, to be replaced with a high screeching voice that made the hair stand up on the back of Deans neck but Alyssa seemed fine- better than fine, there was a glint in her eye he’d never seen before… blood-lust.
“No honey, I just don’t have the capacity to care” the shot ran out and the bullet plunged right in-between the demons white eyes.
A year later Dean and Alyssa had met in the middle of a demon hunt. Alyssa had walked away once she’d killed Constance- the demon that killed his sister; with no thought of the girl she was possessing. Cold, heartless.
Suddenly black smoke filled the room and forced its way into Alyssa’s mouth.
She opened her eyes- black, oily, murderous eyes- and grinned at dean.
“Got the wrong gal didn’t you Dean?” Dean looked for the colt only to find it on Alyssa’s belt with all the other demon-killing weapons. Crap.
“Connie wasn't the demon that killed your baby sis; it was me,”
The black eyes rolled back only to reveal Alyssa’s own green eyes. They were fierce and angrier than he'd ever seen them. They were alive.
“You killed Amber." Alyssa hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes burning with red hot fury- the only show of emotion Dean had seen in 2 years.
"Now, it's your turn."
The demon said something to her in her head, and Dean saw the slight hint of a smile on her lips.
She pulled the colt out from her belt and put it to her head.
“Like this.”
A shot rang out, louder than any other he'd heard. Everything was still for a second, and Dean began to doubt what he'd seen Alyssa was still standing. Then he saw the fire die in her eyes, and life was back in motion. He wished it wasn't.
Her body fell to the floor, her dark hair soaked with blood. Her lifeless limbs splayed outwards, and blood began to seep from her mouth and the bullet wound on her forehead.
This was how he’d remember her? Dead? Murdered?
Never the less, he would remember. This day, this moment was engraved into his head.

Unforgettable.