A/N
This is set in the newest season (is it the 4th?) – so just keep that in mind. It won't follow this season, but I will pull ideas from the episodes as they come. It's just kinda it's own story, okay? Except I don't own Teen Wolf – yeah, you heard me. Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf! But I do own Kayla, so buzz off.
Enjoy.
Beacon Hills, West Virginia.
That's the last thing my uncle said before his voice cut out on the phone. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it's where I was headed. It was a small town with a population of about 30,000 people; way smaller than my last town, but it should be big enough for me to lay low in.
My name is Kayla Ashford – I'm 17 years old. I have long plain brown hair and pale skin and an overall boring appearance. I dress mostly in black (not goth/emo) and I read minds.
Yeah. You heard right– I can read minds. I can only hear what people are thinking presently, not what they've thought about previously. I can't see memories (like pictures) but I can feel people's emotions through their thoughts; sometimes people leave impressions and thoughts on objects, if their emotions are strong enough (I'll explain this more later), but that usually only happens when a psycho goes and kills his whole family.
The minding reading all started two years ago, when both my parents passed away in a house fire. And let me tell you – hearing voices in your head is pretty freaking scary. At first they thought it was some form of PTSD, and I was in constant loops of therapy for a while. I dropped out when I realized what I had going on was a very real, and very serious thing, in which therapy could not help me.
Most people seem to think that being able to hear people's thoughts would be crazy awesome –but it's far from it. I rarely go outside my house, except to go to school, so I'm usually only around teenagers, and a lot of them think sexual things. Luckily, they have to be within about a hundred feet of me for me to hear their thoughts. It was easy enough to block them out if I have something to focus on; which I always do (I keep my phone on me at all times so I can tap out of everyone's thoughts and into my own).
There is one generally annoying and disturbing thing that comes with reading minds – I can't read everyone's. Obviously, I've never figured it out – since I've never known what they've been thinking, but those people typically die relatively quickly after that – I've chalked it up to some sort of death omen. I never stay in places long enough to really care what happens to them (heartless, right?)
So anyways, here I was, heading to Beacon Hills. I managed to find a quaint little apartment on the [rather odd] side of town. Most of the surrounding buildings were abandoned or so run-down that no one could possibly live in them – which was only great news to me. I wouldn't have to deal with everyone's thoughts crowding my own when I was trying to sleep.
I dropped all my bags off in the apartment – there were a few other residents down the halls, but they were mostly druggies. I knew they wouldn't bother me – their thoughts were usually pretty faded and quiet once they shot up.
After a few hours of unpacking, I decided to go check out what Beacon Hills had to offer. I got into my 2012 electric blue mustang (A/N: link below) and headed out of the shitty part of town towards the center. It's not exactly the kind of car I should have if I want to remain conspicuous, but a small part of me does like to show off just a little bit – It cost a fortune to maintain and pay off every month, but we all have to make sacrifices – right?
I ended up in a small café, since it was the closest thing this crap town had to a Starbucks. I was rather disappointed when I found out they didn't even have any frozen drinks – just hot coffee and some baked goods. The cashier girl gave me an annoyed look and thought for fucks sake, choose something or leave, so I finally ordered an iced tea. I snatched my change and drink out of her hands and sat down in one of the booths.
I scrolled through my phone for a little bit while I slowly sipped on my iced tea. I went through the usual apps – Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Vine; you name it, I've got it. Then I got down to business. Jason (my uncle) hadn't responded to my repeated calls and texts since he hung up on me the other day, so I started pulling tax records to see if he'd been paying for an apartment or house somewhere. Nada, nada, nada – it was like he didn't even exist to Beacon Hills. Maybe he didn't.
I started sifting through Beacon Hills Medical Center's most recent medical files (what can I say, I'm a bit of a hacker, but it comes in handy) and none of them matched any profiles that sounded like Jason. I kept scrolling and scrolling, until I finally found a lead – someone by the name of John Doe had stumbled into the ER before passing out. Multiple lacerations on the chest, etc., etc. He was approximately 6"1, tan skinned, blue eyes, dark, short brown hair – it sounded a lot like Jason to me. But the record was almost 3 months old – and it ended rather abruptly. He disappeared at some point during the night and they never looked into it.
Go figure, I thought, rolling my eyes. Only a shit town like this wouldn't look into a mysterious disappearance like this. I continued my search through every record I could think of – and came up with absolutely nothing. Jason was one hell of a mastermind when it came to avoiding documentation.
Where the hell is Scott? He was supposed to be here 5 minutes ago. Nothing unusual about that thought – but the next one started to peak my interest. Lydia's got the second code. Mkay – I was a hacker myself, so I figured, hell, maybe this Lydia girl has something going for her. But then it was like his mind hit a rut – his thoughts started fading in and out, like a bad radio signal. A few words came through to my mind.
Debt pool.
Debt pool.
The debt pool.
Now that certainly caught my interest; I'd dealt with a debt pool before, but I ended it before things got too out of hand. I really wasn't supposed to be involved, but Jason had this weird way of pulling me into all his bullshit all the time – or maybe I was just really invasive because of the whole mind-reading thing. He was the only person who knew about it, but the most he'd ever ask me to do is find out if a girl was interested in him.
I stared at the debt-pool kid sitting in a few booths away. He was tapping his fingers like they were drums, and I could hear his leg shaking from anxiety. He had short brown hair and a rather lanky build (around my age) – kind of cute but not my type. After a minute of full-blown creepy staring (which he somehow remained oblivious to), he got a phone call and practically tipped the table trying to run outside to answer it.
It was like waving a fish in front of a bear – I followed the kid outside, but kept my distance to avoid suspicion. I could hear the conversation echoing in his thoughts anyways – which lasted all of two seconds when another person (I presume to be the alleged Scott) told him someone would pick him up soon. The second he got off the phone, he just had to turn my way and meet my eyes. Fuck I thought. I kept walking forward to make it seem like I wasn't totally stalking him.
Wait-
Who?
GHljle!
"Hey, are you new? I've never seen you around Beacon Hills before," the kid says .
"Oh, yeah I just got here a few days ago," I say with a tight smile. I haven't been in this town for an hour and I'm already lying.
"So you'll be going to the high school then, right? I'm Stiles by the way," he says, reaching his hand out to shake mine.
"Oh, um, no I'm just visiting an old friend. I'm Kayla," I reply, this time not even trying to smile. I wasn't trying to be rude or anything, but I had a bad habit of associating with people when I knew I shouldn't be. And I had an even worse habit of toying with people.
Oh that's cool, I probably know them.
"You don't know them," I say grimly, before I realize what I just did. Well shit. Okay, I can fix this, I can totally fix this.
"Oh um…"
His thoughts keep cutting out, so I can't catch a full sentence. It's almost like he's one of the druggies in my apartment building. Just then a black Camaro pulls up to the curb and clear as day I hear: Well that's my ride.
"I'll see you around, right?" Stiles asks, scratching the back of his head. I hope not, he thinks, and I want to smirk. New people show up and everyone starts dying.
My heart nearly stopped when I heard that. It's sounding more and more like Beacon Hills has a hell of a lot more problems going on than I originally anticipated. I expected Jason to mess a few things up, as usual, but this whole debt-pool, people dying thing, was a little more extravagant.
"I hope not," I say, echoing his thoughts. Don't say it, Kayla, please don't say it, I think to myself. But I can't resist. "I wouldn't want to end up in that debt-pool, now would I?"
His whole mind went completely blank – but I can read it now, and it's just empty from shock. I shouldn't have said it, but I honestly couldn't resist. I smiled smugly at the way he squirmed and fiddled with handle on his friend's car door. I turned and walked away down the street to my car, thinking, one of these days, all this shit is going to catch up to me.
Ugh, sorry this ended up being way shorter than I thought. But tbh, it was 4 pages in microsoft word, so let's be cool, okay? Okay.
So obviously this is only the first chapter. I'm planning for it to be a relatively slow burn – eventually it'll be Kayla/Derek (because I love Derek and anyone who doesn't can just close this browser right now).
Here's the link of Kayla's beautiful car:
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I'll update soon, so tata! Remember to review!
