Chapter Four - The Girl I used to be (revised 7/17/13)

My head throbbed in pain when I came back to consciousness some time during the night. Panic was ready to set in until I opened my eyes and recognized where I was. The sheriff's couch was not the comfiest in town, that's for sure, but it was reassuring and safe. A tingling sensation on the back of my head caused me to groan out loud and, very slowly, lift my weak body off the cushions. My hand found the area that the pain was coming from and as soon as I touched the wet spot I hissed and pulled away. My fingertips rubbed together and even in the darkness I could tell what the liquid between them was.

Forcing myself up, I made my way to the bathroom and flipped the switch. My eyes instantly reacted to the light and I stumbled a few steps away from it until my back was leaning against the frame. Another groan slipped passed my lips and I opened my eyes groggily, blinking away the spots covering my vision. I shouldn't have looked in the mirror because I knew that lately, I never liked what I saw: my hair was filled with dirt and I'm pretty sure a few bugs were hiding out in there if you looked close enough, my cheek was scratched, and my fingers were tinted red. I turned my body slightly to get a better view of where the pain was coming from and the back of my hair was wet, completely drenched in blood.

At first I was confused, wondering why my head was bleeding, and then the memory came back to me … I was unwillingly out in the woods looking for a body with Stiles and his friend when I decided to turn around and head back to the jeep. I ended up becoming face-to-chest with a stranger, who apparently knows me, for the second time these past few days. Both occurrences I thought I was going to get murdered by said person but here I am, alive and well. With the addition of a small wound on the back of my head, of course.

I cautiously stripped off my dirty clothes and placed them in the hamper that was overflowing. I made a note to wash and dry them for the boys later - it was the least I could do considering they must have been the ones that saved me from the woods last night. My shower was extra-long as I watched dried blood and dirt specs fall into the drain. Unfortunately, there was only bar soap and shampoo in reach so I had to wash my body with the shampoo, refusing to touch the soap that the two of them shared. Once I was free from twigs, leaves, dirt, and blood from my adventure earlier, I swung a towel tightly around my body and tip-toed to Stiles' room. I hoped that the offer to use his clothes was still in the air, if not – oh well, too bad for him.

When I walked into his room I had to close the door quickly and bite my lip to restrain myself from laughing. There in his bed was Stiles, hugging a huge pillow to his body and whispering incoherent words to it. I thought I heard a "mmm Lydia," at one point but shook my head and let him continue his dream, grossed out by the fact it could be a dirty one. All my movements were slow and thought out as each one caused a pinching sensation to my brain. Sighing, I reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers to wear. I awkwardly tried to pull them up my legs while keeping a firm grasp on the towel covering my chest. It didn't work out as well as I thought it would and I fell to the floor with a bang, exposing my breast to the world. Thankfully, Stiles didn't even stir in his sleep so I was able to recover quickly and grab a Life Guard hoodie from his floor. Within two minutes I was dressed, up, and out of sight.

I went across to the hall to Stiles' dad's room to talk to him about last night's events. Considering the male from my encounters could potentially be the murderer they were looking for, I should inform the sheriff of all my run-ins with the mystery man. If he hasn't been caught yet I had an idea of where he could be hiding out. After receiving no answer to three knocks on his bedroom door though, I took my chances of walking in to wake him up myself. Alas, I came face to face to an empty bed and no sign of Sheriff Stilinski. Frowning to myself, I walked all the way downstairs and called the only number I had on speed-dial. After four rings they answered.

"Melody, what's wrong?" Came the sheriff's worried voice on the other line. I heard papers being shuffled around and items clank on the floor as if I had startled or woke him. "Is Stiles okay?"

"Nothing's wrong, calm down." I assured him, holding the cell away from my ear as a loud bang sounded through the speaker. The noise made me cringe in pain and my hand automatically started to massage the back of my head.

"I'm sorry Mel, I'm just really busy." He finally said after the ruckus halted. "Why are you up at four in the morning?"

"Why aren't you home at four in the morning?" I questioned back, plopping down on the sofa. I grimaced when I saw the blood stained pillow on the side of me but ignored it for now to give my full attention to the sheriff.

"I'm at the station." He yawned, "Been working since I left at dinnertime. The guys are still searching the woods for the other half of the body. It's not looking so good, Mel."

"Speaking of last night," I started, only to be cut off.

"Hey, no need to apologize. I know my boy can be persuasive when he wants to be. I'm not angry about you tagging along with him. Actually, I'm angry with him for leaving you sleeping in that jeep while he went out exploring." He sighed, and I could almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Listen; can you do me a favor? I need you to…"

"Wait, wait!" I interjected him, speaking too loudly for even myself. "What do you mean by 'leaving you sleeping in that jeep'?"

"Well, when one of the guys found Stiles peeking in the woods I walked him to his car. You were snoring in the passenger seat so I just assumed you were sleeping the whole time." There was a pause, "Were you sleeping the whole time, Mel? Did you see anything?"

"I was in the car when you got there?" I questioned in a daze, trying to make sense of the words coming out of the sheriff's mouth.

"Yes … I would say you were knocked out, really. You didn't even stir when I was yelling at the kid. But I know you're a heavy sleeper so I figured as much. Why? Is everything alright?"

"Knocked out…" I dragged off, biting my nails.

"Yup." The Sheriff awkwardly stated, "Anyway, as I was saying, could you do me a favor? Today Stiles has Lacrosse tryouts and I always whoop him up a nice breakfast that morning. Puts him in a positive attitude before he realizes he's on the bench again. I can't be there this year, mind cooking him something for me?"

"Sure." I exhaled, still trying to make sense of the matter.

"Thanks, I owe you." He said, "You should try going back to sleep for a few hours."

"I'm going to try." I lied easily, ending the line.

At that moment I heard an engine start up outside. I know I shouldn't have really cared who was trying to get to work early today, but curiosity got the best of me and I started taking small steps toward the front window. I pushed the curtain aside and noticed the hood of a jet black car parked just outside the house. I figured that, that was the care that went on because it was the only one I didn't recognize in this neighborhood, and for some reason it just looked sneaky. There was a man in the driver's seat and I could have sworn his head was tilted my way, like he was inspecting me from afar. Furrowing my eyebrows I opened the curtain all the way to get a better view of the driver. It was dark but I could tell that he was a big guy. That thought ran my blood cold. Could it be him?

I jumped about ten feet in the air when a hand came in contact with my back and I looked over my shoulder at Stiles. I breathed a sigh of relief and stole a glance out the window only to see the car speeding away. Disappointed, I looked at the boy in front of me and noticed him eyeballing me curiously.

"What are you looking at?" He asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

Despite everything I couldn't help but chuckle at the site. He looked so vulnerable and child-like. "It's nothing. I just thought I heard something."

"Oh, okay." He nodded, yawning loudly. "How's your head?"

I gasped, "How did you know?"

"Well I basically carried you into the house. I noticed you were bleeding." Stiles scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "I didn't think you'd go far without falling in heels anyway."

"Yet you still let me go. Thanks." I sarcastically stated, rolling my eyes at him and making my way to the kitchen. "And for your information it wasn't the fall that caused this." I pointed out, referring to my head.

"Ah. So there was a fall!" He chimed, situating himself on a chair. "So if it wasn't the ground, how'd you get that? An animal?" Before I could answer he continued, "Possibly the same one that bit Scott. Or maybe it was Big Foot."

"Stiles, shut up!" I yelled, catching him off guard. "You're not even less annoying at four in the morning."

"It's four-thirty," He corrected, pointing to the oven's clock.

"Thank you, Einstein." I began, tossing a frying pan on the stove. "No, it wasn't an animal either. And what do you mean Scott got bitten? Weren't you with him the whole time? Are you alright?"

"Ah, so you think you're the only special one who I leave alone in the woods?" He smiled, "You don't get special privileges like that yet. Anyway, Scott was going to get caught by my dad so he laid low and stood in the woods by himself. When he got up some animal snuck up behind of him and snagged him; I don't know more than that though. I was asleep when he texted me."

"So you were sleeping in your comfortable bed while your best friend was trying to escape a wild animal. You're impossible!" I sighed, shaking my head slowly. "And I also can't believe you didn't wake me to see if I was okay. What if I bled to death?"

"I'll put thoughtfulness on my to-do list, Mel." He snickered, "Now that we're back on the topic of your injury, mind telling me how it happened exactly?"

I was silent for a minute as I watched the eggs sizzle. I had originally thought I wanted to warn the whole town about the man in the woods and Hale house, but now I wasn't quite sure what to do. Considering he didn't hurt me either of the times and unassumingly carried me back to the jeep, was he really a bad person? Or was he just someone who didn't want their presence to be known? All these questions raked through my mind in the amount of time it took to fry an egg. By the time the two were a perfect sunny-side up I knew what I had to do before I got enough information.

"Okay, maybe it was from me slipping." I murmured, ignoring the chuckles escaping the sixteen years old mouth. "You were right – those heels are horrendous to walk in. Stop laughing and eat your breakfast."

"Thanks." He stated with a mouthful of food. "I like your choice of wardrobe by the way," Stiles waggled his brows at me, catching an oven mitt in mid air before it hit him square in the face.

It was around one-thirty in the afternoon when I decided to see how Mrs. Kian was doing and if she could give me any information on the annual recital. I had already washed and dried all the Stilinski's laundry (including my outfit from yesterday which I had to wear again), furiously rubbed the pillow I was laying on until it looked brand new, touched up Stiles' room decently, and left a dinner for the boy's to warm up later. The Sheriff was still at the station and wasn't planning on returning home until way past dark. I felt bad for him since he was probably surviving off cups of coffees and doughnuts, trying to savage up any information on the girl and the murderer. Still though, I couldn't convince myself to rat out the stranger I had run into. For some reason something was telling me not to.

Another thing I had to worry about was Brian. For a man who worked forty hours a week he sure had enough time on his hands to text me every hour. I ignored the text messages he sent me, and not because I wanted to, but because I didn't know how to respond to them. Stiles words really hit me hard last night and I wasn't sure how to handle my feelings anymore. One part of me wanted to end things with him before we went any further, but the more selfish part of my brain wanted to keep him around for companionship, and maybe a stress reliever for when/if I go back to Hawaii. I knew all too well how horrible it was of me to bluntly use a man for those things, but he was the only who actually wanted me in many ways. It was unfortunate that I only wanted him in one.

I knew what my parents would say if I told them about the pickle I was in. My mom, the one who ran solely on emotions, would tell me to follow my heart. I would have responded with, but what if my heart doesn't know what it wants either? And she'd say, Doll, all the answers to your questions are locked in there, sometimes you just need to take a little bit of time to fish them out. My father, on the other hand, would ask me, aren't you a little too young to get mixed up with boys? not regarding the fact I was in my twenties. After the relationship 'advice' he'd say something along the lines of, what do you think would have the best outcome? Even though his method of answering a question with a question was extremely annoying, I got used to it and would frequently climb onto his lap like a child and ask him a million of them, never to get a straight answer back. It did make my brain turn wheels however, and sometimes helped me with my decision making.

I sighed and parked outside of a familiar cabin-like home. I shook my head of the previous thoughts and mentally scolded myself for doing so: after all these hours my headache still didn't go away - the sunlight bothered me more and more as the day went by and any sudden movement felt like a hole was being drilled into my skull. Being the hypochondriac I was, I diagnosed myself with a mild concussion. I was accustomed to head injuries as a child so I wasn't too worried about this one. Of course, all my old ones were from dancing and never as serious as the pain I had now. Keeping the fact that a doctor told me my head must be made out of steel when I was ten, I shook off the dizziness and sluggishness and disregarded these symptoms.

I must have been thinking for a while in the car because before I knew it I saw a curious elderly woman making her way toward the vehicle. A smile spread across my face and I jumped out of the driver's seat quickly, slamming the door behind me. Her hand found its way to the crucifix that always laid around her neck and she gripped it tightly in fright. She honestly looked about ready to call the cops until her brown eyes found my face and she realized who I was.

"Mrs. Kian, I'm sorry for startling you." I apologized right away, grasping her hands in my own. "Do you remember me?"

"Oh Melody, how could I forget my star student?" She exclaimed, closing the gap between us in an embrace. "I'm so sorry about the circumstances that brought you back to Beacon Hills, but I also couldn't have asked for a better replacement."

"Temporary replacement," I mumbled against her clothing, pulling back to look at her. "You still look twenty!" I commented. Sure I was over exaggerating, but compliments on her appearance always used to put Mrs. Kian in a good mood.

"Oh hush, child. That would mean that I look younger than you." She smiled, grasping my elbow and leading me into her home. "It feels so weird to say that. Last time I saw you, you were an un-blossomed seventeen year old girl. Now you're twenty-something and my God, absolutely stunning! You could use some more toning though; I'm figuring you took a break from dancing back in Hawaii. Yes?"

"I might have." I admitted, offering her a lopsided grin and guilty shrug. "I didn't remember how much I loved dancing down there. It was a different environment and I guess my legs just couldn't get used to it."

"Silly girl," Mrs. Kian laughed wholeheartedly, offering me a cup of coffee which I denied politely. "The environment doesn't affect your talent. A real dancer can dance without music, never mind being in a new studio." She stopped to take a sip out of her mug before she looked me straight in the eye, "I had high hopes for you, you know. I always figured you'd be a world famous dancer, graduating from Julliard. What did you end up going to college for anyway, dear?"

I blushed at her statement, truth be told that used to be my dream as well. "Business Management," I laughed, assessing her expression. "I've always wanted a place other than a home to call my own."

"Well, not what I had envisioned for you." She coughed, scratching the back of her neck. "But I suppose it'll come in handy if you decide to take over my dancing studio."

"Oh Mrs. Kian! I didn't know it was for sale!" I spoke, catching her off guard.

"My God, Melody, it's not. Not yet, anyway." She added, "Do you think I'd give away my keys to just anyone? You know me better than that. I'd like to thank you, actually, for taking the job. I know that the pay isn't great but those girls need someone who knows what they're doing. Or have someone to actually be able to demonstrate the moves to them. My body is not what it used to be, Dear. I can't move around like I could six years ago when you were here."

"Of course, of course," I nodded, taking this time to get to the point of my visit. "Mrs. Kian, is there still the annual dance recital going on upstate? I remember every year we'd plan and rehearse for months just to get on that stage and show the judges are stuff. It's something I always looked forward to but yesterday when I mentioned it the students had no clue what I was talking about. I mean, the older ones knew of the recital and probably competed years ago as children, but they didn't know any new choreography."

"I was afraid you'd ask about that, Melody." She sighed, looking at me with a small smile. "I have neglected these dancers for some years now. I'll admit to that. My last competition was the year after you left. Michael started to get ill and I knew I couldn't leave him for three days alone in the house or for all those hours of practice – I used to cut class short so I could get home quicker." She sniffed, patting her dry cheek with a paper towel. I understood not wanting to leave her husband, who was ten years older than her, alone in the house but that didn't justify what she did to her dancers. "Dear, I would be so obliged to you if you could take this batch to compete in the recital. They deserve it after what little I put them through; I've cheated out their parents of their money and didn't give them my full commitment. But you … you are not a cheater. I have faith in your dancing."

"If I'm still here by that time I'd love to do that for you, for them. I'm not sure if I can come up with a whole routine though, Mrs. Kian." I sounded my concerns, watching her face drop to a frown.

"Melody Prout, what has made you doubt yourself so much? You used to be confident, too confident, in your dancing; I would have to yell at you to stop for crying out loud!" She proclaimed, "Do you remember your solo performance seven years ago? Who came up with that? Not me! You did! At only fifteen you had all this … all this charisma built inside you and now I look at you and I don't see any of it! Where is the girl I once knew?"

"I'm – I'm not sure I can answer that honestly." I stammered, biting my lip.

"Maybe it's my fault for putting you on too high of a pedestal when you were younger." She began, "I always praised you so much, even when you made mistakes - because you knew how to fix them. I should not have done that because instead of making you stronger, I have made you weaker."

"I'm not weak." I fought, straightening my back.

"Oh, you're not? Then why don't you prove it and get your ass working on a dance routine for them. Bring them to that recital you love so much!" She stood, me following suit.

"You know what, Mrs. Kian?" I started, making my way to the door. "I will. I'm going to make you proud."

"No, Melody." She called out to me, lifting her hand lovingly to my cheek. "Make yourself proud."

When I left Mrs. Kian's house I went home and changed into turquoise skinny jeans, an oversized purple knit sweater, and a pair of Toms. I wanted my feet to stay comfortable before I gave them a workout from hell later. I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, too. It seemed like all I wanted to do was take each and every one of the students under my wing and teach them the art of dance. I wanted to do it right then and there but looking at the time, I noticed that they were only now getting out of school and heading home. Dance class was being held over an hour from now and I'm sure most of them didn't have twirls on their mind. I was glad Mrs. Kian used some kind of reverse physiology on me to realize what I really wanted in life – and that was to dance.

Even though dancing was my number one priority at the moment, I still had to focus on other important things going on, too. That's what brings me here now, sitting on the bleachers waiting for Lacrosse Tryouts to start. I knew Stiles would appreciate me being here as his dad couldn't show up today. He needed all the support he could get and I would be sure to cheer him on every step of the way. It was weird how after all these years the boy still had a strong effect on me, and not in the romance way, either. He was just a sweet and awkward kid who always needed attention and loved having me around just as much as I loved having him around.

I hoped these daydreams of mine weren't becoming a habit, because before I knew it a whistle blew out and the whole field was covered in scrambling teenagers. I stood from my spot and looked around for a familiar face which I caught instantly. He and Scott, who looked fine to me, were walking up the hill side-by-side awaiting instructions from the coach. I was saddened by the fact Stiles instantly sat himself down on the sidelines, not even giving himself a chance to shine. Sighing, I walked past the cheerful teenagers and sat down next to my favorite, cuddling myself on his side.

"Melody! You showed up!" He cheered, giving me a sideways hug and keeping his arm around my shoulders.

"Of course I did." I said nonchalantly, watching Scott situate himself on goal. "I would have thought Scott would be here next to you."

"He should be!" Stiles laughed, watching his best friend get in position. "He's going to get his ass handed to him out there."

"Hey, don't say that." I said encouragingly, "I'm sure he'll do great! By the way I got your text message. A wolf? Seriously? There aren't any around here. He must have mistaken it for -" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. "Oh, that must have hurt." I commented after Scott was hit square in the face.

"He's an idiot." Stiles mumbled mostly to him, shaking his head in shame. I shushed his comments and continued watching the game.

The next boy ran confidently toward the goalie, lacrosse stick in hand, ready to make a goal. I clutched Stiles' hand in anticipation for another blow to come, but surprisingly it didn't happen. The ball, which I had figured would hit Scott's body somewhere, landed flawlessly into his stick. My mouth opened in shock and Stiles seemed to be the same way, though he did manage to get out a happy 'yea!' I couldn't count how many failed attempts to score happened in such a short period of time, all I knew was that Scott shined like no other out there. It seemed to me as if he was born to play Lacrosse.

"Here's Jackson." Stiles whispered suddenly, standing straight. "He's the captain."

In sync the whole field and audience were filled with silence. I watched memorized as a bigger kid strolled out in front of the line. With his stick in hand he moved, as if in slow motion, so menacingly toward Scott that I could have sworn on my life that he would be the second one to make a goal today. But, like all the others, the ball flew straight into Scott's awaiting stick with a mind of its own. The whole crowd erupted in cheer and I heard Stiles gloat about Scott being his friend.

Laughing and clapping wildly I yelled over everyone else, "You go, Scott! I knew you could do it!"

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