Survived, but no one believes what happened.

If they wouldn't believe you, you were going to have to take matters into your own hands. From the hospital bed, you were scribbling stuff down in your notebook, no matter what anyone said; This was your duty to figure out what had happened. Three men in suits entered your room, they looked like FBI. You couldn't help but feel like they were here just to scare you. You were expecting them to brush this off as a car accident, maybe a kid hurting themself for attention. This generation was unpredictable.

Nobody else believed you when you told them you saw a monster. But, you would make them believe you, even if it meant almost dying to prove it. "Oh," Dean stopped when he realized you were actually awake. "Didn't expect someone to survive the uh- Attack."

Castiel tilted his head, observing the injuries on your chest, neck, and face. He couldn't figure out what kind of creature had done that, it was interesting to say the least. "What are you writing?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "You've been scribbling the whole time we've been in here."

"Well Jeez, Sammy, gonna let the kid have some privacy instead of asking what they're writing in their notebook?" Dean smirked, smacking Sam in the back of the head, earning an unamused glare from Castiel.

"Dean. Be professional," Castiel sighed, picking up the clipboard by your bed. Muttering quietly as he read the details on your chart.

After the men left, you went back to scribbling. Being released the next day. You didn't sleep, no way, you stayed up all night trying to figure out what it was that tried to kill you. It was tiring, but not being believed was one of the worst things in this world; No proof, no belief. That's how it goes.

The FBI agents were at your house when you got back from the hospital, speaking to your mother who you heard an annoyed sigh from once you entered the room. "Oh. Look who it is, the faker," She said, crossing her arms. You just turned around and left. No time to deal with non-believers.

It had been all day since you left your room, thank God for mother's stash of old red yarn. You were doing this classically. You did your research, wrote things down, pinned it to your wall, connected things with red strings of yarn; Until... You figured it out. The sharp teeth, the hunger in the monster's eyes, the fact it tried to rip your throat out, the way it reacted to the dead guy in the alleyway. It all made sense. Vampire.

Sam walked up to your room to check on you, why you were so quiet, see if he could get anymore information on what had happened in hopes of finding it out if it was an animal, an accident, or something they could kill to prevent this from happening.

And that's when he saw it. The thumbtacks, the red yarn, the papers, your figure slumped over sitting on the edge of your bed. "Holy- Shit... Kid, what is this?" Dean said, poking his head into the room behind Sam.