Hope you enjoy this story! Samira is an Aswang, which is a shapeshifting creature who takes the form of a dog. To survive, an Aswang must feed off pregnant mothers, children and unborn children. They must hunt every night or they become weak, and their eyes are bloodshot from spending all night out hunting. And yes, she is the one doing the killing. Read up on an Aswang! WARNING: This story contains graphic violence and takes place in the four months after season 2. Samira's faceclaim is Lucy Hale. Enjoy!
A series of groans and snarls broke through the barrier of sleep, awakening the slumbering young man from his deep sleep.
"Hon'? You right?" he murmured sleepily. When his pregnant bride-to-be said not a word and made not a sound, he sat up. "Alexia?" he whispered, squinting in the dark. No answer. He took a hold of Alexia's shoulder and shook it gently. She didn't move or acknowledge his presence. When the man drew his hand back, it came back sticky. The bedsheets were wet, had her water broken? He began to panic, fumbling for the lamp on his bedside table. His fingers closed around the three-turn knob. He turned it once, twice, three times. The dim light filling the room allowed him to see what had upset his expecting fiancée. His blood froze cold in his veins and his mouth opened in a silent scream of terror. The pale skin of Alexia's stomach was pulled back into two flaps, giving the young man an utterly disturbing look into the content of her stomach. Where an almost-fully-developed baby should've been, there was a gaping hole, filling with blood by the second. Alexia's lower stomach and intestines had been shredded to ribbons. Only then did the man realize that the dampness of his sheets was made by blood. He was sitting in a puddle of blood from his now-dead fiancée. He fumbled for the cellphone at his bedside table, swiping to the emergency call.
"911, where's your emergency?" the monotone-voice of a young woman filled his speakers.
"My, my girlfriend! She… Someone killed her! She was pregnant!" the man sobbed.
"Sir, calm down. Did you see the killer?"
"No, I was asleep," he answered quickly, voice shaking.
"Where are you now?" the woman asked.
"I'm in my house, in my bedroom."
"Sir, stay right where you are, police will be there shortly to inspect the house and see if the killer is still inside," the woman assured. That's when he saw it. A trail of bloody marks led to his open bedroom door. When he squinted closely at the marks, he saw they were not footprints, but pawprints.
Stiles rubbed his eyes, yawning. He'd been up all night doing research. A pregnant mom and three newborn infants had all been murdered in the past week, and something was up. Each home where the infant had resided, a log or piece of wood intricately carved to look like the victim had been placed in the puddle of blood that belonged to the victim, and most of the time, pawprints had been found at the scene. As he always said, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, then three's a pattern. Stiles had done Bing, Google and Yahoo searches for murdered infant, carved wood, and he'd come up with next to nothing. He'd began to have his suspicions, but it had only been a few weeks since Jackson moved to London, how many supernatural things could happen in such a small block of time?
Stiles had been watching her for a few minutes, closely studying the new girl.
"You checkin' out the newbie?" Scott questioned, taking a bite of his pizza.
"It just seems suspicious. She shows up and suddenly babies are being murdered out the wazoo?" Stiles snapped, not taking his eyes off the girl, who was sitting by herself, he noted. She pushed a piece of her dark brown hair behind her ear, scribbling furiously on a notepad.
"Stiles, new people come to this school all the time. She's not a murderer," Scott shrugged. "Just leave her alone, there's nothing suspicious about her."
"We'll see…" Stiles muttered. Grabbing his tray, and a handful of fries off Scott's, Stiles went to the girl. She was hunched over the notepad, pen in hand, writing quickly and sloppily. She startled when Stiles sat down next to her, shoving the notepad under her arm. Stiles' eyebrows shot into his hairline, suspicions rising.
"What'cha got there?" he nodded at the notepad.
"Nothing. You just scared me, that's all," the brown-haired girl answered. Stiles shrugged.
"You're the new girl, right? I'm Stiles," he flashed her a grin.
"I'm… Samira," she replied, her green eyes narrowed at him with suspicion.
"You hesitated," Stiles popped a fry into his mouth.
"Would you hesitate if a total stranger comes up to you and starts getting in your space?" Samira hissed. Stiles was taken aback. Up close, he noticed the red veins of her eyes were more prominent than they should've been.
"Sorry for all the questions," he rolled his eyes. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Samira gritted her teeth. "Just feeling a little… Sick… That's all," she sighed. Stiles could tell this girl was uncomfortable being near him.
"No offense, but you're more than just sick," Stiles snapped. "Your eyes are all red," he pointed.
"Maybe my eyes are red because I'm stressed as hell," Samira growled. Stiles detected an odd note in her voice, like the sound when you press your pen too many times. When Stiles was silent, Samira got to her feet and stormed off, snatching up the notepad before Stiles could read what it said.
Stiles jingled his keys in his hands, moving easily past the reception desk to his dad's office. Said person was hunched over his desk, writing something down on what looked like a police report.
"Another dead baby?" Stiles' said the words with ease, already expecting the answer. His dad looked up at him, worry lines creasing his face.
"Two, actually, plus the mother," he sighed. "I think we've got a deranged serial killer on our hands."
Samira slammed the door to her small apartment, throwing her bag down on the table and running a hand through her hair. That boy from earlier had really irked her, asking all those questions. It was almost as if he knew of her Aswang bloodlines. Samira, grumbling to herself, flopped on her bed and grabbed the remote off the bedside table, turning on the small TV.
"Two unborn children bruta—" the TV broadcaster began.
Samira clicked off the TV, sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. She couldn't help it, she had to eat or she'd die, and she couldn't help what she'd been born as. Her mother had told her from the day she was born, guilt would always be a permanent factor in her life. Samira didn't want to kill people and children who had so much to live for, but it was her nature. Hunt or die.
The pregnant mother and her young daughter walked along the sidewalk, grinning. The single mom had taken her daughter to see a movie, it'd been a long time since either of them smiled, since they'd been happy. Her daughter's laugh faltered, but she remained smiling none the less. The woman looked in front of her to see what had caused her daughter's giggling to cease. In front of them stood a massive, black dog. It fully resembled an Irish wolfhound, except for its glowing red eyes. The gums of the beast were pulled back into a vicious snarl, revealing rows of bloodstained teeth. It let out a low, rumbling growl, with an odd note of clicking, like the sound of a pen, faintly heard.
"Puppy," her daughter began to giggle again, moving toward the terrifying animal. Before the pregnant mother could blink, the black dog was on top of her, pinning her to the ground. The dog's hot breath skidded across her face. The dog sank its fangs into her stomach. The woman screeched, trying to shove off the animal, but it was no use. Warm blood pooled on the pavement, surrounding the mother. The dog ripped into her, tearing the skin from her body. Her daughter was screaming louder than she, an earsplitting shriek. The woman felt an agonizing pain and a sharp tug in her stomach before she blacked out.
Her vision was blurry, very blurry. Her ears rang with the screams of her daughter. The woman blinked, once, twice. A nurse stood above her, frowning.
"The morphine didn't last long as it ought to have…" she mumbled. She shook her head, a cheerful smile brightening her face. "Teresa, you're in the hospital. Do you understand?"
Teresa nodded. "What happened?" she murmured quietly. The two words sent a shock of pain throughout her entire body.
"You were attacked on the street by an animal. Your daughter is safe…Your baby…" the nurse frowned again. "Do you remember what happened?"
"I… I was walking home with my daughter… And there was this dog…" Teresa's memory came flooding back, images of the terrifying beast permeating her mind.
"A dog? What did it look like?" the nurse's eyebrows raised.
"It was massive. It looked like an Irish wolfhound… It seemed normal… Except for its eyes…" Teresa trailed off. The nurse's interest seemed piqued.
"Eyes? What about its eyes?"
"They were red. They were glowing red."
I hope you enjoyed! Love it? Hate it? Lemme know, drop me a review!