Note: LNU stands for Last Name Unknown
I: Jackson
Jackson started seeing strings when he was eight. It happened after he was separated from his wolf. He had no idea what it meant, and he couldn't very well ask someone.
He saw thousands, millions of strings - never his own. He had found it weird, but logic also told him if he had a string he'd try to follow it. Somehow, in his younger years, that seemed incredibly wrong.
So he shut up. He didn't tell anyone. In fact, he didn't speak a damned word when he was in the system. Other children found him odd, but the adults just looked at him with distaste.
(Just another one to feed.)
He kept to himself. He didn't want to be adopted, he missed his family. He knew they did love him, no matter how much the social worker looked at him with pity.
He was doing good. He was on his way to ten, and was already counting the years, days, minutes he could get out of this hell. Then, they came.
They were hesitant. They had shifty eyes, trained mostly on the floor, and the woman didn't even try to smile as she passed the children. David was reminded of the dog pound when they came down his row; the final row.
The woman stopped in front of him. She looked up for the first time, and she had tears in her eyes.
"David," she gasped. She put her hands over her mouth and started to sob. He was startled, wondering how the woman knew his name. He looked at her and found she wasn't actually talking to him but her husband.
Her husband traveled back to meet her, then turned his gaze to David, leaving him squirming under the scrutiny.
"He looks just like Jackson, David," she marveled through her tears. Her husband nodded, acknowledging her. He squinted his eyes.
"How old are you?"
He hesitated. Maybe they'd leave if he ignored them. The husband just continued staring patiently.
"Nearly ten."
"What's your name, son?" He flinched at the endearment.
"David. David Jackson. No last name, sir. Never knew my parents." It was a blatant lie, all of it, except his name. His name used to be David Wesley Mayer but his mother had changed it before she put him up for adoption. The records did say his name was David Jackson LNU, and that he was born June 15, 1995.
He was beginning to wonder if it was coincidence his mother picked that name.
The woman gasped again.
"Dave, it's like destiny," she said.
He ended up agreeing to go home with them. He refused to call them "mom" or "dad" but allowed them to call me "Jackson" because the woman seemed less likely to cry if he did.
He knew they were using him, but truth was, he was using them too. As soon as he turned eighteen he was going to leave Beacon Hills: the godforsaken place they'd brought him to.
But then he met Isaac.