Prologue

Mood was absolutely down in Silveret household, mainly because of Thomas Silveret, a teenage boy. His cousin, and also, best friend Allison Argent was dead.

Yeah, he was related to Argents and had kept in touch with Allison as much as possible ever since her move to Beacon Hills. No one understood his attachment to her but it was simple as that for him – she knew he was gay. In fact, she was the only person alive to know and now it was not true anymore. He had no one to talk to. With Allison, he could openly talk about his crushes, his doubts, fears and any other emotions he had swirling in him. He laid in his bed, pressing pillow to his face, trying to get rid of anxiety attack what was coming to him, as well as memory of the night he found out Allison was dead.

For some reason it was thunderstorm outside. News had not even mentioned of possible storm hitting San Francisco yet it was there, rumbles breaking the sound of its night life outside and flashes of thunder illuminating the night skies. Thomas was laying in his bed, unable to sleep. Thunderstorms scared him and he despised them for that. Particular loud rumbles made Thomas to clamp his ears shut and shout on top of his lungs.

- 'Stop it!' He shouted. It was pointless - you just didn't order the Mother Nature what to do. But instead of stopping, the rumbles continued. And then, a breaking glass sound came to his ears from downstairs. Thomas sat straight upward in his bed.

He crept out of his room and down the stairs, hiding in shadows. He heard the muffled sobs of his mother, while she was on phone.

- 'Oh my god… Ch-Chris what… what happened?!' She sobbed in phone. Thomas froze. Was that Chris, as in Allison's father? He glimpsed on ground, and saw the broken vase near the kitchen counter. She had obviously hit it off accidentally while getting support of the counter. Something was off. She was standing there, still sobbing and listening apparently to what Chris was saying.

- 'I… I see.' She said. Another torturing stream of sobs.

- 'When is the funeral?' And then it hit. Thomas gave audible exhale, losing support of his legs. He felt numb. Somehow, he knew but back of his mind still grasped for another explanation. Maybe another person. Maybe some other relative. But evidently, the truth was inescapable.

Somehow, he pushed himself off the wall and went in the kitchen. His mother gasped as saw him enter. She put the phone down.

- 'Thomas…' She began but Thomas staggered. Even hearing his own name was a sharp razor to his whole being.

- 'D-Don't.' He refused. He refused to hear what was about to happen.

- 'A-Allison… Sh-She's-' And she began but Thomas cut her off.

- 'DON'T SAY THAT. DON'T YOU DARE TO SAY THAT!' He shouted.

- 'Thomas, I'm… I'm so, so very sorry.. Allison's dead..' She said it. Whole world around Thomas just collapsed. Obviously it was Allison. Chris had no one else anymore in his life. His wife was dead, his sister Kate was dead and now his own daughter was dead. And it was all because of the stupid family business. For once, he let his temper get a hold of him and he ran. He ran through hall, opening the doors and running in the heavy rain, for once forgetting about the thunderstorm. His insides were in chaos. Somewhere behind him a woman's voice shouted but he couldn't make out the words as they were drowned out by a thunder, hitting a tree and slicing part of it on street.

He knew all about Argents and about all their Family business. Allison had confined in him about it all, when her own world had come down crashing and he was there to listen. About Scott, about Lydia, about Derek, and all of other her supernatural friends and how her family had expected her to be the one to kill them. She had struggles. Once, she wanted to do so, she wanted to kill the werewolves but her inexplicable love for Scott and them all being her friends was the only thing that kept her from doing that. Her family had come to terms on that and together they all hunted other supernatural creatures surrounding Beacon Hills. But it was only the matter of time when supernatural caught up to her. In fact, Thomas could bet on everything he owned that it was exactly the thing that killed her. He planned to ask her father about that but he was scared. Scared of what he would find out and Chris' reaction to the fact he knew all about hunters.

His pillow began to suffocate him but he was still fighting. He was still too stubborn to take it off and let his lungs win. He wanted to win but that would mean he would need to die and give up on life.

Something was off. For some reason, Thomas suddenly felt someone else was in his room. He didn't hear anything except for heavy breathing. No, not exactly breathing but low growling. It's just my imagination. It's just my imagination his mind screamed to him but Thomas was already shaking, trembling from fear. The soft growl came closer and Thomas fought with all his might not to start screaming.
Under the bed. Come on, under the bed, NOW! His mind fought through and Thomas rolled to his right with his pillow and with an audible thud fell on floor and rolled under it. He heard scratching noises and then silence. Thomas was glancing at the bottom of his bed, breathing heavily his heart accelerated.

There was a frantic knock on his door. He had locked it.

- 'Honey, are you okay? Thomas?' His mother's voice came worried. Still Thomas did not dare to speak or move. What if whoever was in his room was still there and just waiting to ambush him or anyone else entering the room? Fear for his mom made him to pull it together and get out of under bed. He noticed claw marks on his window pane but that was not what scared him the most. He also noticed prints going up from his window and up to ceiling. His sight froze on letters written in red all across his ceiling. Is that… blood? Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore and his eyes rolled back into his head and with yet another thud he fell on ground unconscious. Someone had written on his ceiling:

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