She’s running again. She’s always running, and running and running. All her life, running.
There was a time before, she thinks, a time before she had to run, she had her family and her art and her music and her life, but they took that, them on their high horses, said she couldn’t have a life, said she couldn’t be allowed to exist. They’re wrong, she knows, she also knows that there’s no one like her, the girl with the dead parents, the girl with the white eyes, the girl with the powers no one could explain.
She doesn’t know she isn’t alone until she meets Jane, and she knows, she has to protect her, keep her safe, keep her hidden so she doesn’t have to run, too. So she helps her, she hides her, she keeps her safe from them, the only one like her, the only one who understands her.
But she has to run again, she always has to run again, and run and run and run, until one day they just stop. They all stop and she thinks, maybe I’m safe. Maybe I’m free. Maybe I can breathe. And she hears them, she hears them talking sometimes, she hears things she doesn’t know and doesn’t understand like Dean Winchester is saved and (don’t let them) break the seals and Anna has been found. She thinks her mother’s name was Anna, once, long ago, that she held her and loved her and cared for her but she doesn’t know, she can’t remember, maybe it was a dream, a long-dead hope, a half-forgotten glimspe at what could’ve been. But she lets herself hope, and hope and hope until one day she Knows she’s dead, she Knows her mother’s dead, but she Knows what she is now, who she is. She knows they won’t stop coming for her, never stop coming, until she’s dead or gone. But for once, once in her life, she knows who she is and she can breathe.