"Did you do this?" I asked, angry and pointing up at the mark on my shoulder. "Did you fucking bite me?"

"What?" Kelsey shook her head in confusion. She watched me with a strange expression. "No, don't you remember… don't you remember what happened? What we did?"

"You do?" It would be a miracle if that were the case. I would assume that she took some of Ray's pills, too, and those had ground me up and left me nothing but a pile of aching bones this morning, but Kelsey wasn't even flinching away from bright lights or sound.

She remembered, though. I could tell just by the look on her face. It was that same look she got right after she met a boy. Kelsey was something of a hopeless romantic, except to an extreme, unhealthy extent. She goes all in and takes it way too far. Her longest standing relationship lasted three weeks. He was an older boy and she swore that he looked just like Richard Beymer, and she moved in to his cheap apartment almost instantly.

I didn't see much of Kelsey for three weeks while she was with him, and I only saw the back of his head in a diner once when they stopped to share breakfast at Minnie's. Let me tell you, the only thing he and Richard Beymer shared was greasy hair and a love for theatrics. His hands never stopped moving the whole meal. I doubt Kelsey got a word in edgewise. The relationship ended abruptly when he kicked her out so he could head to LA to start his 'modeling career'.

That broke her. It was good for me, though, because afterwards for about two months straight, Kelsey went with me to every party and got black-out-drunk every night. We were unstoppable. Then her cousin got pregnant. Don't ask me why, but once again, Kelsey changed. She didn't want to party anymore, now that she had 'to be a role model'.

I continued partying and only saw Kelsey very occasionally at The Beacon. Every time we saw each other, she would allude to some plan she had, some mysterious thing that she was convinced would change everything for her. It sounded made up, and to be perfectly blunt, I thought the cheese had finally slid off her cracker.

She had that look in her eye right now. "Do you know what this means?" There was a slight mania to her voice as she stood from the couch and practically danced over to me. Kelsey laughed giddily and I watched her float around my living room, annoyed and impatient.

Kelsey threw her hands up and spun. "Oh, God! For the first time in my life I feel good!" Her hair flipped around her shoulder and she looked at me with bright eyes, dropping her arms at her side. "How about you?"

I stood there and stared at her. My stomach was empty and growling, my head hurt and I still didn't have a shirt on. I pointed at the front door. "Get out."

Surprise flushed her features and then she threw her head back and laughed, causing me to ball my fists up in frustration. Shedding all pretense, I stared at her and let my face convey exactly what I thought, which was that she had gone insane, and she started across the living room again. "That's a good idea, do you feel like pie? I feel like a slice of pie from Minnie's Diner. You been there? Oh, what am I saying? You love that place! I bet you get pie all the time!"

She was dragging me towards the door and I yanked my hand out of her grasp. "Maybe I wasn't clear enough," I seethed. "Get out of my house. Now."

Her grin fell slightly and when she realized I was serious she frowned. "Lainey, relax—"

"I don't know what happened last night, and you know what? I don't give a crap. I am way too fucking sober to deal with this shit, so just get out. Just go."

"You know what? I don't get you! Why are always so mad all the time?" She pouted.

Feeling my temper boil, I took a few steadying breaths before responding. "Because I have a constant migraine, Kelsey. I always feel like my head is burning from the inside out, and it gives me a bad attitude. And right now, I'm asking you nicely."

She snorted. "Lainey, I get it, but no." Before I had the chance to properly explode, she put her hand up. "You have no idea what's going to happen to you! We need to go to Derek!"

"Are you crazy!?" I hissed. "Fuck that!"

"Lainey, this is serious!" She insisted. I stomped over to the door and wrenched it open, making big, long gestures with my arm like I was waving a plane down a runway.

"Out! Out! Get! OUT!"

"LISTEN to me!" She yelled back, a vein in her smooth forehead bulging as she grabbed my arm to emphasize her point. "I know you! I know you wanna go crawl back into your hole and hide out until the parties start up later on! I know that you'd prefer never to see me again! But this—" she said, gesturing to the bite on my shoulder. "This is never going to go away. You don't get a choice anymore!"

With a stony expression, I looked her in the eye. "We always have a choice, Kelsey. And I'm choosing to ignore you."

She continued to yell even as I took her by the shoulders and pushed her towards the door. Her hands flew to the doorframe and she stuck her foot up, trapping herself between the door and the porch. "Listen to me!" She said, urgently, hysterically. "Lainey, I'll tell you what happened last night—"

"I don't care!"

"I did something, okay!?"

I stopped, stepping back to look at her. She had a guilty expression and she pressed on, like she was afraid if she stopped talking I'd dump her ass in the road and our lives depended on what she had to tell me. "I made you do something and you might hate me for it! You probably will, actually, because you might not survive this because of your tumor, but I had to do something Lainey, I had to! You're my friend!"

Her eyes searched my face desperately. I was just looking at her, one hand on my door, the other on the wall beside her foot, and I could see that she was shaking now.

With a low voice, I said, "What did you do?"

Her breath trembled as she gulped and she looked up at me, cagey. "It's… it's not what I did. It's what Derek did. To you. That bite. It's not an animal bite."

"Derek bit me!?" I exclaimed, and she hesitated.

"Lainey… Derek is a werewolf."

I shoved her out of my doorway and slammed the door, turning the lock.

She's fucking crazy! The whole rest of the morning was spent with me trying desperately to collect myself. My hands shook as I downed a glass of water and when I eyed the stale, week-old pizza box in the fridge I felt my stomach churn dangerously. I knew better than that.

Still, I felt sick from the inside out. Kelsey was a big part of that. I couldn't believe it. I'd known this girl for over a year, and even though we hadn't exactly made a secret handshake and traded friendship necklaces, I thought I knew her. Clearly, I didn't. Turns out she was certifiable.

I've got more than enough of that in my life. Ray has had his freak flag planted firmly in that role since day one, and I can't take another one. I just can't. I don't have room for it in my heart.

Which is what made everything so hard when I opened my door later that night and found her sitting on my porch right where I left her. Okay, maybe not right where I left her; she'd moved to the steps and had her legs splayed across them to block my path.

I had noticed that after about thirty straight minutes of her pounding on the door relentlessly, she'd given up. I had assumed she'd finally left. How was I to know that she'd hung around like a stray cat?

I flashed a scowl at her. Of course, the weather was just as dreary as it had been yesterday, if not more so. It was freezing out and my layers did little to block the bite of the wind. I lifted my hood as Kelsey scrambled to her feet. She was shivering violently, obviously not wearing a coat since it was probably still flung in my living room somewhere, and she had been sitting outside for the better part of ten hours. It was pushing eight o'clock now and I'd planned to pop by Minnie's for a warm meal.

"Lainey!" She gasped, and I noticed as I pushed her out of the way that she was pale and stupidly easy to push off. Even her voice was quivering as she cried, "Wait! Just, wait a minute—"

I pried her hand from my injured shoulder and stopped myself just short of grabbing her arm and flinging her off me. "You're being crazy! You stayed out here!? You know what, I don't care, get out of my way."

"Lainey, no!" Kelsey had never sounded so desperate in her life, as far as I knew. It was sort of pathetic. "Stop, just stop, okay?" And she was in my way again. I clenched my fists and counted to ten and Kelsey took advantage of every second of that as she blabbered on to me, still just as frantic as she'd been this morning. "It's already starting," She said. "The transformation. Can't you feel it?"

"I feel like you're about to make me even later than usual, and that would make me very angry."

"This isn't a joke, Lainey!" She looked like she wanted to just drag me to Derek's lair, but instead she lifted her shirt. "Look!" And that was all she needed to say. Despite the fury, and frankly, exasperation, I felt at the whole situation, the mark on her hip made me stop dead in my tracks.

This morning, it had been bleeding, raw and angry. Now the teeth marks and the wound itself had swollen twice the size it was previously and it had worsened to a bright, sickly purple color. There were strange, faint lines branching away from it that I recognized to be veins.

"Eugh," I cringed, my nose wrinkling. Inwardly I was worried, like you would be if you were in the hospital and caught a glimpse of a patient who'd been walking around with a nine-inch nail sticking out of their forehead or something else equally disturbing and grotesque, but at the same time my own illness had worn a such a callousness in me that I didn't even blink as I looked up at her. "Might wanna get to an emergency room before that thing busts."

She looked down and covered it with her shirt again, drawing her shoulders back. "It won't bust. It's just going to get worse before it gets better. Don't you remember anything Derek told us?"

"So what I'm hearing is that you're not going to go to the emergency room," I told her, blatantly ignoring her remark about Derek in favor of redirecting the conversation to a more favorable direction.

Kelsey saw straight through it. Reluctance shone in her eyes as she said, "Lainey, I really—"

"Do you know what you need?" I loudly insisted, taking her by the shoulders and turning her around. The anger was still inside me, simmering just under the surface, but I knew one surefire way to make all of this worth it. "A little dab of speed, baby; take you for the ride of your life, snatch you out of this funk. And a cute boy to hold onto with both hands."

She paused and sniffled slightly as we drew father and farther down the street, into the dark and away from the light of the streetlamps. I guided her down the alley that cut to a shabbier side of Beacon Hills, where the best place to party was.

"Derek—"

"Up, up, up!" I cut off. "Shut the fuck up about Derek, okay?"

Kelsey was barely holding back her comment. Her eyes were screaming with an unspoken persistence. She bit her tongue. "Okay, but after… I mean, tomorrow, I guess. We have to go tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow," I placated, not meaning a single syllable of that word.

The party was well under way by the time we showed up. The houses were close together here, close enough that you could pass your neighbor a drink through the windows, which is exactly what everybody did. There was no such thing as a house party, not here. They gave a whole new definition to phrase "block party."

Speakers and amps were hooked up, extension cords running errantly across the grass and cracked cement patios in their backyards. The houses were filthy but there were so many people and the music was so loud that you couldn't notice much past the stink of alcohol and sweat or the poorly installed strobe lights. This guy even had a couple black lights, and he turned out all the other interior lighting.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: these people really know how to party. Drinks flowed freely and drugs were passed along with pizza, cookies and breadsticks. They gave more business to Pizza-Hut than a frat house during the Superbowl. There wasn't much furniture, which was just as well.

Kelsey and I had split apart almost as soon as we stepped foot in the house. There's a sort of mob-mentality that happens at these kind of parties, and when I turned up everyone started cheering. They saw Kelsey was with me and cheered even louder, and before we knew it, we'd been loaded up with red cups and passed a joint and welcomed into the fold. Our habits from months ago resurfaced, and Kelsey went off to find the kitchen while I sought out the most noteworthy group of people I could find.

Presently, I was talking to a guy with dreads who wore a bowling shirt and swim trunks that looked technicolor in this lighting. He also had on crocs with long socks, and a fanny pack covered in stickers and filled with coke. His name was Reese, and he was the most interesting person I'd spoken to in days. Apparently, he was just arrested the other morning for trying to illegally sell hotdogs.

"No, no, no, you don't understand—"

"That's—that's what I call a waste of taxpayer's money," I proclaimed excitedly, my heart racing as someone beside me barked their loud, boisterous agreement. "Do the cops care when little kids sell lemonade in their front yards? Hell no!"

"FUCK no!" Someone echoed.

"They line up and buy the whole god damn pitcher, and make sure someone is close by with a camera to capture the moment for their Facebook page. But one grown man tries to do the same thing, and suddenly it's 'illegal vending.' What sort of justice system is that? Don't these people have anything—anything better to do?"

"They wouldn't have cared!" Interjected one guy with dried vomit on his shirt. "Except you were blocking traffic, remember that, Reese?"

"What the fuck do you know, Broke Feet?" The man with dreadlocks loudly snapped. "Go jump out another window!"

Cheers went up and I was laughing so hard I spilled my drink. Pouting, I told them that I'd be right back and picked my way through the crowd in search of the kitchen, expecting to find Kelsey sitting on the counter with a boy between her legs, like usual.

There was food everywhere. Popcorn was littered across the counters, beer cans that were empty and beer cans that were still full were strung everywhere; pizza boxes lying trampled in the middle of the floor, and chip bags that had fallen open into the fridge. A jug of something red and sticky with slices of oranges had been knocked over and a big puddle spilled out of the fridge and across the floor.

At the edge of the puddle, I spotted the bottom of a Converse. It wasn't until I ventured further into the kitchen that I realized the shoe was still attached to a foot, and it wasn't until I stepped around the counter that I realized it was Kelsey.

She was passed out. Instantly I was by her side. When I touched her, her skin was burning up. I turned her over and brushed the hair in her face back, though some of it was stuck in her mouth, which made me wrinkle my nose distastefully. "See?" I said to her unconscious face. "This is what happens! If you had just gone home like a normal person, you wouldn't be sick—"

"Whoa," Said a boy with a hat turned backwards on his head, his eyes glazed over as he leaned across the counter to poke the back of my head. "Hey, is she all right?"

"What the fuck do you think, Friday Night Lights? Does she look okay to you?"

He seemed put off by my hostility and put his hands up. Before he left, though, he asked, "Hey, have you seen my knife? I can't find—"

I leapt up to snatch the nearest can from the counter and pelted him in the head with it. He yelled a string of insults and curses at me, promising to return with his knife and 'fix that fucking attitude' for me.

By the time I'd propped Kelsey up, someone else had entered the kitchen. They didn't even pay us attention as they stepped over Kelsey's legs to get a spoon from one of the drawers, hollering at someone that they had retrieved said flatware and was consequently returning.

I tried picking her up. I tried everything I knew. Grabbing her under the arms and dragging her towards the back door, which didn't get us very far. Changing directions and taking her by the ankle to drag her towards the dining room, which didn't get us very far, either. And finally, I decided to go back into the living room where the boys I'd previously been chatting to had long since disappeared from.

They were outside now, in the front yard setting a trashcan on fire. I watched as Reese doused the can in something and then his friend tossed a match onto it, and cheers and laughter erupted as the flames burst in the night. I stood there for a moment, at a loss for what to do. Finally I just returned to Kelsey, who was now missing.

Gone. Her body, not where I left it.

"Fuck!" I whirled around. The back door was open. I hurried onto the back porch. "Kelsey!" I yelled. "Kels—"

"Shhhh," Hissed a voice to my left. Someone else was snickering and the first voice hushed them again. "Do you want to get fucking caught?"

I let the door slam shut behind me and stepped farther into the shadows, peering down at the side of the porch. Over the railing, tucked below, I could see the top of a boy's head.

His head popped up and as soon as he saw me he cursed loudly and dropped back down. "Go!" He yelled.

"Hey!" I started forward, my feet smacking the wooden porch loudly, and I watched one tall, lanky guy in a grey Steelers sweatshirt take off across the yard. He hopped the fence and I saw another shorter, fatter kid go chasing after him. His whole body shook with every step and he used his arms just as much as his legs to run. When he tried to jump the fence, he nearly lost his shorts, which were a shiny athletic material that appeared unwashed and stained with god-knows-what.

I caught up to him easily and yanked him off the top of the fence by his shorts. He hit the ground with a loud thud and threw his hands over his face. I loomed over him and he squirmed like a turtle turned on its back. "What the fuck were you doing to my friend?" I hissed, and the kid tried to get up but I kicked him back down.

"Get off, you crazy bitch!" He shrieked, his voice shockingly high. I'd be surprised if he was over the age of fourteen. "Kramer!" He called, seeking someone who was very obviously not coming to his rescue. I assumed it was the taller, older one who skipped out the moment he spotted me on the porch.

"You fat piece of shit," I snarled, not even caring as I ground my heel down into his chest until he could scarcely breathe. "You think it's okay to rape girls!?"

"Augh!" He screeched back, and I lifted my foot off of him so I could stomp his grubby little crotch. He howled, then, and curled on his side with great, shuddering coughs, wheezing in tear-filled pain.

I didn't even blink as I kicked some dirt on him and turned to leave. I left him there, writhing in the grass, fury singing in my veins as I trekked across the backyard and looked up at the back door. A few people had come to watch with interest and they stood by and listened to me taunt them to come down and do something about it.

They scoffed and proceeded to talk shit right back, but I ignored them and went behind the porch, where Kelsey was still lying, passed out. They'd dragged her behind some weeds. Strangely enough, there was a dog chained up, and it had come to sit beside her dutifully with its chest puffed up. It was a mutt, and I think it might have been some sort of a cross between a Rottweiler and a French Bulldog. It was small, black and brown, and bowlegged. Its bat-like ears went back upon my approach and it snarled at me.

"Get!" I tried, shooing at it with my hands, and the dog snarled its lips to growl at me, putting itself between me and Kelsey. "God damnit! Get back!"

I didn't want to throw something at it. I didn't want to hurt it at all, but I needed to get to Kelsey. I knew if it came down to it, I'd have to yell for someone to get the dog's owner, but I thought that was about as dependable as listening to what the weatherman says.

I looked around the yard. Surely there was something to use to distract the small dog. A bone, a ball, a fucking Frisbee—anything? Nothing.

With a heavy sigh, I took to the grass in search of a stick. After about three solid minutes (I'd had to climb the fence, using the fat kid who was still lying on the ground as a boost, and I went across the alley to trespass into someone else's yard that had a tree) I was back, and waving a stick enticingly at the little mutt.

"Look!" I used my most excited, childish voice I could muster. "Look what I've got! This is for you!"

He looked suspicious, but he shifted anxiously and licked his lips. His eyes were glued to the stick. I gave it another shake.

"Wanna get it?" I said, waving it at him as I turned to gesture back wherever his leash led. He stood up and barked at me, practically vibrating as I threw stick. "Go!" He took off, leaping over a wayward lid of the metal grill that sat in the grass a few feet away.

Finally, I went to Kelsey. Her shirt was ripped, and her pants undone. I felt a bizarre combination of sadness and relief, and I noticed that I wasn't nearly as high or drunk as I should be, no doubt because of the shit I was having to deal with.

They had left her here, dumped in the weeds behind the porch like nothing but a pile of garbage. Something metal in the weeds caught my attention. It was a knife—the edge of the blade was bloodied and my heart leapt in my throat. The guy in the kitchen had mentioned a missing knife, hadn't he?

My hands hovered over Kelsey. I saw, then, that besides her ripped shirt—which I now realized was not in fact ripped, but cut—she had cuts under her bra. They'd been trying to cut her bra off and doing a shitty job of it. She was all slashed up now. The fresh cuts overlapped old scars. Her whole upper body was mottled with scar tissue that seemed to come from the under waist of her jeans and continue up her hips, until they stopped, and then started up again just over her stomach, where they disappeared again under her bra. Her uncle? Or had she done that to herself?

It made me furious. I wished I had done more than stomp that kid in the nuts. I wished I had done something more. It felt inadequate, as I took off my jacket and covered her up and tried not to think about how hot her skin felt to the touch or how pale she looked, and maneuvered her into a fireman-style carry.

I had no idea how far we would get, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be too far. All I knew was that it was my fault she was like this. I stumbled through the backyard and into the alley again, where I shuffled and carried her away from the party, toward the city park.

The dog didn't bother us again, and though we got the occasional strange look, the city was bizarrely quiet tonight. We made it within a street of the park before I had to stop to take a break. I wanted nothing more than to dump her right there in the middle of the sidewalk and lay down beside her to catch my breath.

My heart was racing like it hadn't in years, and I knew I should have passed out a long time ago. I was sweating, but it was chilly without my jacket on. I didn't exactly regret giving the extra layer to Kelsey, but it was pretty fucking cold.

Oh, well. Her body was like a little kerosene heater of its own. It blocked some of the frigid February air. Taking a deep breath, I pressed on. I was nearly to the park when a police siren blipped behind me, and the red and blue lights flashed across the windows of a nearby house.

Talk about a shitty night. There's nothing quite like the feeling of being trapped in the back of a police car. I was screwed; I knew it. I hadn't seen him do it but I knew the officer had taken my name down. Soon enough they'd run me through the system to see if I had any warrants for my arrest—which, as far as I knew, I didn't—and then they'd eventually discover that someone else was using my name, and I'd be screwed. It's all over. I have no idea what would happen, but I knew only bad things were ahead of me. I watched, arms crossed and lip split from being chewed, as a couple of paramedics loaded Kelsey into the back of an ambulance.

I worried how she would pay for that. Ambulances are expensive. She had been through enough, but I knew that the bills would have to be paid by someone. What would she do? That was the thought in the front of my mind when the officer returned.

He opened the door and I glared up at his young, fresh face. He'd been fairly nice to me, all considered, but I still didn't trust him. "Who do we call for her?" He asked me, like I knew.

I shrugged at him.

Irritation seeped into his handsome features and I felt amusement trickle into a grin despite my inherent mistrust of law enforcement when I saw how he was struggling not to get an attitude with me. I'd been like this pretty much since he'd stopped, to, as he would tell it, 'help' us. Somehow, sitting handcuffed in the back of his car didn't feel much like a helping hand. "You don't know her parent's number?"

My, aren't we assuming? I raised an eyebrow at him. "Parents? No, they're dead."

"Her guardian, then." He lifted his hand impatiently at me. "Grandparent? Godparent? Anyone."

"Her uncle died last year," I said with another shrug. "Dunno if she's got anyone. She's been staying at The Beacon."

My jaw clenched at the way his face turned to that of pity. I watched him frown and reflect on this bit of news, and he gave me a curt nod. "All right," Was all he said.

He shut the door and I watched him approach an older, more experienced officer with brown hair and a wrinkled face. I thought he might have been the Sheriff, but I wasn't quite certain. He looked back at his officer's car where I was, and I sank lower in the seat with a scowl, as though he could see me watching them. The Sheriff looked back with a tired expression and gave his officer a short response.

With that, he returned to the car and opened my door again. "Out," He told me, gesturing to the ground. "Keep your hands where I can see them after the cuffs are off."

Shock, pure and simple. I couldn't believe my luck. I thought… well, I thought it was all over. They weren't taking me to the station? They weren't going to… I don't know, charge me for something? I wanted to ask him, but I wasn't an idiot, so I got out of the car and let him remove the cuffs.

Turning back with a wary expression, I side-eyed him and rubbed at my wrists while he spoke. He looked conflicted, like he'd been expecting to take me back to the station as well, and I noticed the Sheriff watching us speak from off to the side where he had just watched the ambulance leave down the street.

"I'm going to ask, even though I don't expect a straight answer from you. Though, it would be good for you if you could try to be honest. Do you know how to contact your father?"

Of course. They would be interested in him. I was sure there should at least be one warrant out for him. I am now doubly surprised they're not using me for bait. It was like this was all one big game, and if I slipped then it was all over and I would lose.

I shouldn't tell them. I really, really shouldn't. If dad were to be arrested, I'd seriously be on my own. What would even happen to me if they found him? I didn't turn eighteen for another four months.

But then, what would happen to me if I didn't tell them? What if I didn't cooperate? From the way the Sheriff was watching us closely with his arms crossed, I thought that option would somehow be worse. It was like they already knew how I would answer. It all felt like some big, shitty set-up.

So, I surprised them. I told them the truth. Scratching my ear, I looked away and said, "Side Pot," naming the hole-in-the-wall bar in downtown Beacon Hills.

It was just that. A name. The name of one of a handful of bars that my dad regularly ran his tab out at. They had a one in five chance of finding him, assuming he'd even be at the bar and not somewhere even I didn't know where to look for him.

The surprise on his face was priceless. He had a line ready to recite, something about taking me to the station and probably something a little more troubling about my dad, but my single phrase clamped his trap shut with a click.

"Side Pot…" He turned to look at the Sheriff. "Okay," He said, slowly. "Well, then we'll try to contact him there. You did the right thing."

I wasn't so sure that was true. "Thanks for the validation, five-oh. We good?"

He started to say something about giving me a ride home and I waved him off.

"No, no, no, no." I started backing away and he told me to stop. "Am I under arrest?"

Bad idea. What am I doing? The officer's eyes flashed with frustration and alarm and I saw the Sheriff start in our direction.

"Should you be?" He asked, like he'd been waiting for this all night, and he swiped to grab at my arm. Reflexively I yanked out of his grasp and darted away, not daring to turn my back to him.

"Hey!" I pointed at the officer as the Sheriff hurried to join us and suddenly the officer and I were trying to speak over each other. He was telling me to settle down and I was accusing him of trying to grab me, and the Sheriff tried to diffuse the situation.

"Officer Trenton," The Sheriff said in an exasperated tone, pointing to the car behind him. "Get back to the station. You have paperwork to do."

"I—"

"Go!" Sheriff barked, and his officer sent me one last scathing glare, which I returned with a taunting finger wiggle that the Sheriff stepped in front of. "Get over there," He practically growled, like he knew me.

"I just want to go to the hospital!" I said, loudly, hoping that Officer Trenton caught every word of this as he retreated to his car. "And he tried to grab me!"

"Okay, that's enough," Sheriff warned, and I closed my mouth and crossed my arms. "Now, you've done good tonight," He told me. "You helped your friend. You told us where to find your dad. Don't ruin that, okay? I really don't want to have to take you in for anything. I really, really don't."

"All right," I took a deep breath and sighed, scrubbing my hair short hair restlessly. "Can I just go to the hospital?"

"Is that really what you want?" He asked, already turning to the car. "You don't want to go home?"

"No," I said, practically snapping at him again. "Just take me to Kelsey."

Thank God for small miracles, but he didn't try to start small talk. He left me alone. I had to sit in the back of the cruiser, of course, and he had to radio in to dispatch that he was escorting a civilian to the hospital, but beyond that we were silent the whole way there.

It wasn't until we were in the hospital that I actually heard him speak again, and even then it was to a worker at the desk in the entrance. "Evening, Pam," He said.

She was eyeing me hesitantly but kept a fairly pleasant expression. "How can I help you, Sheriff?"

He glanced at me before answering. "We're, uh, here looking for a patient that was brought in by ambulance, probably about… twenty or so minutes ago? She would have been young, a teenager, and she was unconscious with a wound on her hip and—"

"Okay," The desk woman interrupted. "Believe it or not I stay behind the desk for most of the night. I never even see the patients. Does this girl have a name?"

"Kelsey," I said, rapping my knuckles on the desk. "Kelsey Black."

She eyed me before she turned to the computer and tapped away at the keyboard.

"Thanks, Pam, I appreciate it," Sheriff said, even before the lady gave us any information.

"Hmm," The lady said uncertainly. "It looks here like—"

"Sheriff Stilinski?" A woman interrupted. She had black stains all over the front of her blue nursing uniform, and by the looks of it she was headed for the doors. Her coat was hung over her arm and she looked… not so good. She hadn't even bothered to change, for what that was worth, and she was just pulling her dark, curly hair free of its pony tail as she approached.

"Melissa," He said, surprised, and spared me a somewhat awkward glance. "I was just dropping her here because her friend was—"

"Kelsey, you said?" Nurse Melissa asked. Her brown eyes looked at me and I saw a sadness reflected there that made me go still. I didn't like the way she was looking at me. Why was she looking at me like that? "I just saw her and I was… I needed to take a break, I… Was she your friend?"

Her clothes were covered in that black crap. That's all I could think about. That, and Kelsey's bill she couldn't afford if Melissa was about to tell me she was in a coma or something stupid like that.

But it was worse than that. Of course it was. I knew it was. But I didn't actually know it, not until she said the words.

"I'm so sorry."

Author's Note: Please leave a Review!

Chapter Song: October, by Broken Bells