Hey guys! This is my new story, Stained-Glass Windows! I really hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf! ...Wish I did buttt I don't :(
Chapter 1: Messy
As I read the dictionary in my lap, I sat in the moving van with my mom to my left. She had beautiful straight blonde hair that went down past her shoulders. She tucked it behind her ears. She had blue eyes that had little makeup on. She wasn't really dating since the divorce.
I looked so different from her. I was adopted after all. I had dark brown hair that was so curly. My eyes were a deep blue color. I barely ever wore makeup. It was really bothersome for me actually.
"Charlie?" Mom asked. "Are you listening to me?"
"Huh? What?" I asked, looking at her.
Mom giggled. "I was just saying that that's going to be your new school." She nodded towards a huge building to our left. It hardly looked like a school. A museum, maybe?
"Are you okay?" Mom asked. "I mean leaving Denver was a big step, sweetie."
"I'm fine, Mom," I told her which was the truth. "Besides, California is so much warmer. I think I'm going to like it here in Beacon Hills."
Silence fell over us as we continued to drive to our new house. I continued to read my dictionary.
messy adj. /ˈmesē/
1: marked by confusion, disorder, or dirt : untidy a messy room
2: lacking neatness or precision : careless, slovenly
3: extremely unpleasant or trying messy lawsuits
That was basically my life. It was just so messy. Everything that had ever happened to me seemed so difficult and, well, messy. It all started when I was pretty much born. My mom had died giving birth and my dad gave me up. Swell start, huh?
Then, I was adopted which didn't seem so bad. My new mom, Cassandra, and new dad, Mark, were both so nice to me and loving and caring. Then something in my dad had snapped when I was around seven. That's when the abuse started. He'd hit me, starve me while my mom was out, and enjoy my hurt.
I was too scared to tell my mom plus I thought it would break up the marriage. I thought very deeply at the age of seven. The abuse went on up until I was eleven. That's went my mom and I went to the pool and I refused to take off my shirt because of the bruises. My mom pulled it off me and gasped at the sight.
Needless to say, my mom and dad weren't together anymore. That's when puberty hit and my whole idea of my life changed. I had to shave my legs, wash my face, and get a bra, the whole nine yards. Boys started looking at me but I felt ugly. I still saw the bruises and scars.
When I was thirteen, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The story behind that one was I woke up one day with a black eye. I had no idea how it had gotten there.
I cried to my mom about it. But she kept telling me I didn't have one. I couldn't believe it! It was obviously there. When I looked it the mirror a second time, it disappeared.
That wasn't the only thing behind it though. I'd get mood swings often and I couldn't explain it. It was like everything everyone was feeling was magnified on me.
But something my guidance counselor told me helped me a lot even though it wasn't meant to. She had told me, "Focus on yourself." From then on when I focused on my emotions, I was okay. Of course my mom thought it was the meds but it wasn't. I haven't taken meds in a couple of years. They just magically disappear each day...
We pulled up to the small suburban house on a street called Lupine Lane. The house was a small one story building. It was grey with a white door and shudders. There was a small garage in front of the drive way where we pulled in. My mom had her car, a cute blue Ford Focus, but I had my own car which I had to pay for. Her name was Cindy and she was an old maroon Volkswagen Beetle.
I went and found my room as my mom unpacked the rest of the house. The walls were a lavender color as that was the old woman who used to live here's favorite color. I really loved it and the rest of my stuff was black and white damask pattern.
The most important thing was my bookshelf. I loved to read and was actually pretty smart. I just never told anyone that right out. I felt a sudden sadness fall over me. I just randomly started crying. It was like I wasn't even doing it. I never sniffled once but tears came out. This happened a lot. It was like I tuned into everyone's emotions.
Mom knocked on the door. "Honey," She said as I quickly wiped away the tears. "I know how much you wanna explore. I'd be okay if you left. I mean only if you wanted to."
I smiled. She was right. New towns, new places always intrigued me. "That'd be great. See you in a bit, Mom. Love you!" I called climbing into my car and speeding off. I cranked up the tunes and just drove. I saw an animal hospital which I'd definitely have to look into. Science and medicine was my thing so naturally I wanted to be a vet.
Soon I saw what I was looking for. Not intentionally though, this wasn't really healthy for me but it eased the pain. It was sort of like peroxide on an open wound. I walked through the cemetery, looking at the names and making up the stories of how their lives went.
I needed the right name, something that reminded me of him. I soon stumbled upon Marcus Parish. Close enough name. I knelt down at the grave with lovely purple flowers put on it.
"So here I am," I told the grave. "I'm finally out of your midst, huh, Dad? I'm am so glad that Mom moved us away from fucking Colorado. She's so much stronger now that you're gone. I really wish you were like me and could feel what she feels. You can't hurt me or her anymore. Beacon Hills is a new start for me and for her."
I felt tears well up in my eyes. "I don't know why you even did everything you did. I was a defenseless seven year old. I never thought I would wish someone dead at all let alone this badly. But, sadly, you're still out there probably preying on some girl who doesn't know what she's in for. I just think you should know that I hate you."
I seethed. "I really hate you. For hurting me. For hurting Mom. For tricking me into a false sense of security. For making us leave Colorado. For everything. I hate you."
"Who are you talking to?" A male voice spoke from behind me.
"My dad," I told him, not turning around.
"Marcus Parish," He said. "He died in 1964. Are you sure you've got the right grave?"
"My dad's not dead." I said, standing up and facing a boy who was a head taller than me. He had curly sandy brown hair and clear blue eyes. "I just wish he was."
"You're crying," He said. "Do you wanna talk? No one should wish their dad dead."
"You don't even know me," I started to walk away when the boy grabbed my wrist.
"Wait," He said, releasing me. "Talking is the best way to work out your problems. It helps to vent."
"Well," I said. "Let's just say my dad was a complete and total asshole. He did shitty things for about four years and I didn't do a damn thing about it. My mom had to uproot us because of some morons who liked to talk about us behind our back." I breathed heavily.
"See," The guy said. "Isn't that better?"
I couldn't help but cry. I ran into his arms mainly because he was there. He rubbed my back. He probably got this all the time from people crying about their dead loved ones.
I pushed away, angry and confused. "I've gotta go. But thanks for listening." Without another word, I left the boy standing alone in the cemetery, arms open with tear stains on his shirt.
I made sure my eyes weren't too red before rejoining my mom in our new house. She'd gotten the entire house unpacked and had made spaghetti all while I was gone.
"Hey, honey!" She cheered. "Find anything cool?"
"Not really," I said, shrugging and grabbing a bowl of the pasta. "I did spot a vet clinic though. Maybe I could get a job there. I mean if they're hiring."
"That sounds great!" She said. "You should go afterschool tomorrow and see!"
"Speaking of jobs," I said. "When do you start working at the elementary school? Tomorrow?"
"The school tomorrow but the preschool on Saturday," She reminded me. My mom was a kindergarten teacher but taught preschoolers on the side for the extra money.
We talked some more but I never said a word about the cemetery or the guy I met there. I went to bed not eager to start school but excited about a possible job at the animal clinic.
Isaac Lahey sat in the crane, listening to some music. Digging graves, believe it or not, was quite boring and completely morbid. He couldn't help but think about the girl he'd seen today. He never even got a name but she was so beautiful. Her hair looked silky smooth even though it was curly. Her eyes were such a pure blue they looked like sapphires. He felt his heart race for a minute but something else quickly grabbed his attention.
He heard strange noises but tried to ignore them, thinking about the girl. They just continued and Isaac gulped. He caught sight of something digging up a grave. Then that something ran towards him and tipped him into the grave.
He sat, helpless in the grave. He heard the sound of twigs cracking. Oh no. He was going to die. This thing was going to kill him and he'd never learn that girl's name. But he wasn't killed. Instead he saw a man stand over the grave, ready to help him out.
Far away on Lupine Lane, Charlie English jolted awake and screamed. The last thing she remembered from her dream was her thinking she was going to die.
She walked into her bathroom splashing her face with water. When she looked in the mirror, her left eye was black just like she'd been punched in the face. She didn't freak out but closed her eyes and focus on herself. When she opened her eyes again, the black eye was gone.
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**cleverest-of-curls**