"Are you going to answer that?" Dori droned from her position hanging upside down off the edge of my bed; a text book in hand, a highlighter clutched between her teeth. She looked like some sort of monkey or performing acrobat, she didn't even seem slightly bothered by the blood that was surely rushing to her head. Unless of course she's bloodless in which case my Step-Sister has become a vampire overnight.

My phone had been buzzing continuously for the past 10 minutes during our study session that Friday evening. I had ignored it knowing it was one of two people-both of whom I was trying to avoid and not talk to for a few more days…only a few more…Dori had been trying to convince me to talk to them. She was aware I was unhappy around her group and equally unhappy alone; she even phoned up Ben telling him he was an idiot after she found out why exactly I was ignoring my friends. As much as I wanted to phone them I couldn't. I just…I needed to give them this space and if I was wrong then I was wrong.

I, however, couldn't deny that Sherlock and Watson very rarely tried to get a hold of me for 10 minutes straight. It's perhaps what prompted me to reach my hand forward across the cluttered surface of my desk and clutch at the vibrating mobile. I could feel Dori's eyes on my back as I held the phone…deciding whether to look or not. I had no doubt she'd strap me down in the desk chair and make me read the messages if I didn't do it willingly. The screen was alight with the name "Stiles". I had been intending to change it to something more humorous and personal, but hadn't gotten around to it. Swiping the screen I found a multitude of text messages, all disjointed. Each one making me feel a little worse than the last.

Lottie, please reply I really need to talk to someone. I'm such an idiot

I just confessed my feelings to Lydia and she completely blanked me…

She was on her Bluetooth and I was all like 'we have a connection'…

Apparently it wasn't worth repeating.

Lottie, please…I'm so humiliated right now. I can't.

Look I just need to talk to someone, I know you're ignoring me and Scott right now but it would be awesome if you could just postpone that for a second? Please.

No?

Okay.

Wow, Charlotte. Brilliant chatting to you, super helpful. Really, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.

Crap, I didn't mean that

I could just use someone to talk to right now.

I felt like a shit friend. An absolute piece of crap. I was so goddamn tempted to just pick up the phone and call him. To tell him it was okay, that he didn't need to worry…she'd likely forget about it and he could go back to his admiring from afar. But no. I was far too stubborn for that. I completely ignored that I was being a crappy friend, completely ignored that I was so desperate to talk to either of them. Surely it wouldn't be so bad if I just picked up the phone? This could be considered an emergency right? No. I can't. Idiot, you need to restrain yourself. You're being clingy again.

God, I just…I just wanted to send him a message. Anything to let him know I was aware, that I did care. To let them both know it wasn't them. It was me. I was the one causing this, I was the one who wasn't sure if I was annoying them or not. I was the one who was avoiding them. It was all my fault. Every last bit. I was avoiding them like the plague and all because I didn't want to push them away with my behaviour…guess who is a walking contradiction? Bingo, you! Moron…

I struggled to revise after that. To spend any time on the useless and unimportant work that sat in front of me. Dori tried her best to encourage me, to lift my spirits, but I just felt hollow. I was coming to the realisation of just how shitty I was treating them…and yet I couldn't seem to bring myself to break the fast I was taking part it. It was like Luke trying to shoot down the Death Star, no matter how many people died, how many near misses he didn't stop…except I wasn't stopping anyone evil by doing this. I wasn't doing anything useful at all. The only good thing I had done all week is drop dinner off at the Stilinski house when Stiles' jeep wasn't there. I refused to break my promise to cook for the Sheriff. I refused to drag him into this, he didn't need the extra drama.

So I went to sleep that Friday evening fully aware that somewhere Stiles was feeling like complete and utter crap, that somewhere he was wondering if he'd pissed me off or if it was his fault that I was ignoring Scott and him. Suffice to say I didn't get much sleep. I couldn't find a comfortable position. I couldn't stop moving. I couldn't stop thinking. What sort of person does that to their friend? Me apparently. Even Dori had been upset with me. Dori, who was so laid back and easy going. Dori, who wasn't even particularly close with the boys. It was at that moment that I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer and I didn't want to. I was starting to realise that I'd much rather be clingy and annoying then hurt my friends and ignore their problems. This wasn't like me.

I had woken on the Saturday unprepared for the big Lacrosse game that would happen in the evening. My 3 hours of sleep had left me looking pale, exhausted, and like I'd run through a hedge at some point in a fit of lunacy. It had taken me until at least 11 to get out of bed and surprisingly I was in a mood that allowed me to attempt to tame my appearance. It wasn't easy between the wild nature of my hair and the lack of sleep, but I at least looked less like I'd fallen into a pig sty.

I had no plans until later that evening; Mum was at work surprisingly and Dori was with Norman doing some sort of Father-Daughter bonding, something involving old music and greasy food most likely. So it was just me in the house, me and the mobile phone that taunted me with its silence. The desire to pick it up and phone one of the boys was strong and I was about to when a sharp knock sounded from the front door. I slid the phone into the pocket of my jeans and quickly rushed down the stair case to get the door in time.

When I opened it I hadn't expected to see the Sheriff. In fact the last person I expected was Sheriff John Stilinski, I was expecting a postman or even Dori and Norman who'd forgotten their keys. Heck I would even expect Scott sooner than Mr. Stilinski.

He was still in his Sheriff's uniform and looked decidedly awkward stood there on the bottom of my door step. It's obvious this wasn't a professional matter, he wasn't here to arrest me or anything…not that I thought he was. I don't believe I've done anything illegal in my life, except downloading music and watching Supernatural online. Which, with the way the Sheriff ignores Stiles and Scott's body hunting, isn't that high on his list of priorities. Especially with a dead girl's killer around.

"Hey Sheriff…what're you doing here?" I tried to keep my tone light. Usually I was just quickly dropping off food over there. Conversations were usually 'You can wait around, I'm sure Stiles'll be here soon?' and 'uh…no thanks, Sheriff…I've…I've got to get home now'

"John, please," he corrected before pausing, watching me with a concerned frown. "Look I…I don't know if something happened between you and the boys…but…is everything alright, kiddo?" The sheriff hesitantly patted my shoulder like you might a skittish horse, the gesture simultaneously comforting and awkward, and I realised I couldn't fool him. Sure he was the Sheriff, but he was someone's dad as well. He knew the ins and outs of teenagers, including how I and the boys interacted.

"You still on duty?" I asked attempting to avoid the question. To move it back to comfortable waters where I wouldn't have to be cautious of what I said and what I did. It wasn't that 'John' would judge me, I'm sure he'd understand….but I was still odd about how I'd just ignored his son yesterday. I felt like I didn't really deserve the Sheriff's concern.

"No, just came from an arrest…Scott and Stiles were there actually. They seemed pretty upset about you not talking to them…particularly Stiles. Now that Scott's busier and all…he misses your company…" …" I noted that Stiles had inherited a lot of his characteristics from his father, evident in the way the both rambled in uncomfortable situations. It was kind of comforting actually, to be around someone so like Stiles. I can't imagine what it would be like if Scott's mum was here too...perhaps a bit like De Ja Vu.

"I…look, I just…" I stumbled with my words and the Sheriff gave me this look. It was the encouraging one I'd seen Stiles give Scott on countless occasions, furrowed brows, a smile here and there. It worked wonders on calming you and helping you get your words out. I realised perhaps that's why Mr. Stilinski was the Sheriff, I could even imagine Stiles becoming a Police Officer one day. However, he'd probably be too lenient with the rules in certain cases.

"I figured I was annoying them or something…I didn't want to be too clingy…" Fumbling about with my fingers, I avoided looking into the Sheriff's blue eyes. I felt like I was disappointing some sort of authority figure….I felt like I was disappointing a parent, like I was waiting to hear his verdict on my choices. But that was stupid. It really had little consequence whether Mr. Stilinski was happy or not with my behaviour.

"So you decided to ignore them for a week?" Scepticism was riding in his voice, like he didn't expect that from me. I suppose he didn't even think I'd come to a conclusion like that anyway. I seemed perfectly amicable and eager to make an appearance until that Friday. We had had a lovely dinner and chatted, it had been something I missed. My own family rarely sat together around a dinner table anymore. We always were doing our separate things…we weren't much of a family at all if I thought about it. It was more dysfunctional and isolated than the Crew of Serenity and they were space cowboys for God's sake.

"Yeah…well…I…" I didn't know what I was trying to say. There wasn't really anything to say, was there? I'd done enough with my stupid plan. I'd ignored two people whom I'd gotten along with well, spent time with people who either disliked me or wanted to murder me violently (Jackass Whittemore), and even gone as far as to ignore Stiles when he needed a friend to listen to him. There wasn't anything else to say…and I was admittedly ashamed of my behaviour the more I thought about it.

"Look Stiles is out and he won't be back for a few hours, do you want to come over to the house…talk about it? Watch some TV, kiddo?" There was something comforting in the offer, perhaps if I didn't understand the Sheriff…didn't trust him, didn't know him, then I'd find it creepy. But it was Mr. Stilinski and he was obviously trying to help me with situation before the game which I'm sure I'd see him at despite Stiles always being sat on the bench.

"Yeah, I'd like that, Sheriff" The hand fell from my shoulder and I almost felt relieved that someone, an adult, was going to talk to me about this. Teenagers? We obviously don't know what we're doing half the time. I'm pretty sure I never know what I'm doing and then I listen to equally oblivious people and well…I get into this big old mess, don't I?

"John." It almost made me laugh, that someone like Stiles, who said he'd never tell me his real name because it was so horrendous, could have a father with such a simple and generic name. Obviously the name was something to do with his mother unless the Sheriff had a thing for names that would cause your son to go by a nick name for the rest of his life…

"Right, Sorry…let me just get some shoes on, I'll be out in a second" I sent him a quick smile before scurrying back into the house looking for my converse, where had I put them? Right, underneath my bed. Luckily it didn't take me too long and before I knew it I was sat in the passenger seat of a cop car.

I'd never been in a police car before, I never really had much interaction with the bobbys back home…well actually I had no interaction with the police. I didn't really ever get involved in anything illegal or dangerous or untoward. I just kept to myself.

The ride was comfortable, but I could feel the paternal glances John shot me. He was worried, I got that. He wanted to help, I understood that as well…I'm just not sure if I could let go of this stubbornness that had built up inside me. I just hoped everything would go back to the way it was. I just wanted Stiles and Scott to be sitting with me at lunch and making stupid jokes, I wanted to be able to spend time with them, and I wanted to be able to get them to help me open my bloody locker for the nine millionth time that school year…but did that want outweigh what I believed I was doing for everyone else's benefit? I'm just not sure.

Like I said before, the Stilinski house was somewhere warm and lived in. It was always like how I pictured the Burrow to feel. A place that was filled with familial care even though the two men lacked a feminine touch or the presence as they were often out doing their own thing. But it was very obviously a house that had served its purpose for many years and would continue to do so. I was very aware of how I frantically searched for the baby-blue jeep just in case Mr. Stilinski was wrong and Stiles was in fact there. I wasn't quite ready to face him after last night's session of ignoring him and his need for companionship…I was still very aware of how much I was a shit friend and how I was currently hanging out with his dad instead…

We had sat awkwardly on the worn sofa, I was offered a drink, and more awkward silence prevailed. I figured he felt uncomfortable trying to make me talk to him about the issues I'd been having with the boys and was waiting to see if I'd talk about it without prompting from anyone else…

"So, you were at an arrest?" It was an attempt to break the silence that had me fidgeting in my seat more than anything else I'd experienced so far. There was something stern and expectant of that silence. Probably because I was being expected to do something…I was being expected to explain why I was avoiding his son. Why I had been such a crappy friend over the past week…

"Charlotte." The Sheriff had never used that tone with me. It was the disapproving, stop-being-avoidant tone. The one I'm sure he used on Scott and Stiles on a regularly occurrence over the past sixteen years of their life.

"Just sate my curiosity and…and I'll tell you all about my issues, okay?" I stopped fidgeting about after seeing the resigned look in his eyes, I'm sure he had that look more often than he would like with Stiles running amok about the town like some sort of Gremlin.

He sighed heavily "The other half of the body was found at the Hale house…we arrested Derek Hale on the suspicion of murder…incidentally those two miscreants you call friends? They found the body, kiddo…" He didn't look as upset as a normal father would, probably because he was acclimatised to it by now. I liked the way Mr. Stilinski called me Kiddo…there was a fondness there, adults didn't usually call me things other than my real name. It was something I'd never had, something I missed out on growing up…I revelled in it more than I had expected to. It felt like being underneath warm sunlight. Uplifting.

"Derek Hal-" I began to ask until I received a look urging me away from the topic of Allison's creepy ride home from the Party last Friday…who had said he was Scott's friend of all things.

"Right…um…where to start…I, we, all were at this party at Lydia's on Friday…not that I really go to those things, but Dori needed a lift and I didn't want to leave her. And well…um, Scott and Stiles kind of ignored me when they were leaving, and then ignored my texts for the rest of the evening" John seemed confused as to why this had any connection to me ignoring the boys. He sat forward in his spot with his elbows resting against his knees, hands clasped together, lips pursed. I knew he was taking my every word seriously. It wasn't something I was accustomed to when I retold stories like this.

"…and well, I talked to an old friend in England…and he said maybe I was being clingy…so I decided to give them a week away from me cause I figured they were getting annoyed and…and it's like…I don't want to, okay? I can feel a literal ache in my chest at not talking to them. But I don't want them to be annoyed at me either so…" I stared down at my folded hands, I'd practically picked the cuticles apart from stress over the last week. Lydia had been absolutely horrified when she'd seen them…it was a bad habit, I had told her.

"Clingy? Clingy? Really?" His incredulous voice caused me to lift my head. He had a familiar furrowed expression on his face, one that said 'what the hell?' louder than any words. He genuinely looked confused by the use of that word. Only that word, everything else seemed to make perfect sense to him.

"…Uh? Yeah?" I replied hesitantly, confused by his outrage myself…was it so hard to believe I was like a limpet on a rock when it came to people and physical closeness…I was so aware of my issue that I'd been avoiding contact with everyone. I actually felt like I was going mad with withdrawal symptoms or something…

"Look, Kiddo. You aren't being that clingy and even if you are as far as I'm aware the boys don't care. They miss you, they've been moping about like a pair of sad five year olds…I don't think you have to worry about them not wanting to spend time with them…Clingy doesn't have to mean annoying, darlin'…" He was trying. This was the Sheriff who had no reason to sit me down and help me out other than the fact I knew his son and his son's best friend. He could completely leave me to my own devices. He could have let me stew in my malcontent like a body at the bottom of the Dead Marshes, but he didn't.

"But…but what if they do find me annoying? I don't want them to! Stiles and Scott make me really happy…I've missed them a lot…" And they did. They made me exceedingly happy. They had a way of helping me get used to this country, this world of theirs without much effort. They made me cry with laughter, they made me relax, and they selflessly helped me whenever they had the opportunity, and yet I had abandoned them. I'd selfishly left them to their own lives in fear that they'd begin to resent me. I was a selfish coward.

"They don't. If they did I wouldn't have Stiles asking me to get a warrant to get into your house so he could talk to you, kid" I furrowed my eyebrows, my face crinkling further in my puzzlement. A warrant. No. Stiles wouldn't have asked for a warrant, that's ridiculous, right?

"A warrant? He really asked you to do that?"

"Yeah, Kiddo…those two care about you…and I do too…you're always welcome here…" A hand clapped me on the shoulder reassuringly and I felt lighter, more relieved even. Now that everything was off my chest and a wise old Yoda like figure had given me life advice. Because I definitely needed it. I didn't know how to life…I didn't know how to adult…I was pretty much screwed for the rest of my future. I was heavily dependent…I might just live in someone's attic or cellar.

We sat there quietly for a short while. It wasn't awkward like the first silence, it was far more relaxed. We both knew what we needed to know and both had sorted out any underlying problems.

"So…what's your understanding of Football?" I'm pretty sure my face was a mixture of confusion and worry…he wasn't going to make me actually do any sport was he? I wasn't sporty…in fact I was so unsporty that Coach Finstock lets me sit out of most of the gym lessons because he can't be bothered to argue with me, bless his little cotton socks.

"American Football?" I needed to clarify; were we talking about running with a ball or kicking one because one I knew something about one on the most basic level of human understanding, the other? Was a complete mystery to myself, I hadn't the foggiest idea about it.

"Yeah." The expression said 'what other type of football is there?' until he seemed to come to the realisation that yes. I wasn't in fact an American. I had little to no grasp on half the things they said and I was completely genuine in my question.

"Nothing…"

"Time to get started then." So we did. We sat there watching American football which seemed an awful lot like rugby to me. Except more padding and if people got hurt they didn't keep playing. I didn't understand it and I think Mr. Stilinski knew that. I think he just wanted to keep me from brooding too much before he took me home. It worked. I cheered when our side scored, and hissed at what I thought were the appropriate moments. It was pleasantly mind numbing in a way. It was also something I hadn't ever sat down and done with an adult before. Mum didn't like watching sports and with work she was too busy…me and Norman? Well we stayed out of each other's way. He knew I needed space and I knew he felt weird around me at times still. He still hadn't gotten used to his role as Step-Dad I guess…

"Dad, I'm-!" A cheerful call rang out through the house and I turned just in time to see Stiles stand stock still, bag dropping heavily to the floor and voice trailing off quietly "…home…" I can honestly say that I felt an odd sort of blind panic fill me. It didn't matter that I had talked this out with the Sheriff…I'd ignored this boy. Of course he'd be angry with me after the Lydia incident yesterday. I shouldn't have come here. Oh I shouldn't have come here.

I didn't even think when I rushed off the sofa and past Stiles who tried to grab at my arm in a blind attempt to detain me. "No! You get back here, Lottie!" I kept going, kept scurrying like a frightened mouse out of the door and down the path past the baby blue jeep. I felt like a bloody criminal and I felt like crying for no real reason. I was being that stupid cliché girl in the movies. The one who gets eaten by the monster because she's so bloody emotional and stupid. I was that girl. I was cliché monster chow girl.

"LOTTIE!" His voice carried. It carried down the street I was mindlessly hastening along. It was loud and sounded like a bellowing horn in my ear. I hadn't heard his voice since his voice message days ago. I hadn't seen him that close for days. I hadn't heard him say Lottie in a long while. It hurt. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!

Before long I found myself slowing to an exhausted walk, my shoulders slumped and my head a mess. The place I found myself at however wasn't my home. It was a park. Green had begun to show signs of golden autumn that was approaching. There was a lone swing set, rusted and obviously out of use and falling into disrepair.

I trudged my way through the trees and pathways, past benches and sat upon the swing. It creaked and groaned under my weight, but I paid it no mind. It wasn't my issue right now. It wasn't a problem for me at all. My problem was much more important than the stability of a swing. It was the stability of my own self…because I felt like I was slowly crumbling under some sort of invisible pressure. I felt like I was a disaster waiting to happen.

I was grateful for the silence of the park, only the whistling of the wind and the tumbling of leaves. A few cars here and there from the road, but for the most part silent and peaceful, but I needed to talk to someone.

Ben. I just ran out of Stiles house. I don't know what to do, please text me back. I need to talk to someone.

It wasn't often I did that. But I honestly didn't know what was happening with my life. I wasn't sure why I'd done that. Why I'd ran, why I'd ignored the boys, why I'd done this and that…I felt like I was going mad.

10 minutes had passed. 10 minutes of pure silent, just me and trees and leaves. 10 minutes and not a soul insight. 10 minutes and no reply. Perhaps that's why I dialled Dori's number instead, placing the phone to my ear hearing the familiar dial tone as I waited for her to pick up and when she did it wasn't what I expected at all.

"I can't talk right now. Busy with Lydia. Bye" and she hung up. Simple as that. There was no floundering, no asking why I'd called. She just hung up to the sound of her and Lydia giggling away in their metaphorical castle.

I felt utterly and completely alone in that moment. More alone when my parents divorced. More alone than when I was the only one at school because everyone else had gone on a trip. More alone than sick days at home by myself. This was the feeling of being isolated by every sector of my life. Except I'd caused this loneliness. I'd caused this heartache, this hollow feeling so deeply ingrained in my chest that wouldn't leave like a persistent cold.

I was known as that happy person, the person who thrived off life and bounced back from everything. It was my trope. The overly happy girl without a care in the world. But that was a complete an utter porkie. I wasn't always happy. I wasn't right then. I wasn't happy when my parents divorced, I remember crying and crying and crying until I dehydrated myself and passed out. I remember being sad for a week when a crush didn't like me back. I remember being angry with Norman and my mum for getting together for at least 3 weeks. So no I wasn't always happy. If anything I was in a state of melancholy that I hid behind layers and layers of smiles and laughs, but was I ever truly happy?

Yes. When I was watching movies with Dori. When I was spending time with the Sheriff. When I was joking about with Scott…and when I was curled around Stiles who was warm and safe and reminded me of security. So yes, I was happy at times. But I'd fucked it up. Stiles and Scott? I kept running from them, I felt like Forrest Gump, just running and running and running. But would I ever stop? Would I ever reach a stage when I realised that maybe I could plant my feet firmly in the ground and halt?

Would I ever be able to talk to them again without feeling the need to run and hide like a jackrabbit? I'd done so many shitty things in the past week. I'd made more mistakes in one week alone than I had in an entire decade of my life. What had made this so complicated? I'd listened to a boy who had a brief idea of a situation. I'd ignored the two best friends I had made while at Beacon Hills High School. I'd ignored Stiles when he needed my help. I'd ran away from him like a criminal when he wanted to resolve it. I had made so many mistakes. I felt like my life was like that. One big great mistake.

Starting with my dad leaving because God and Mum know that that was my fault and ending with my running from a boy I called a friend out of fear. What was wrong with me? Was I broken…Was I some sort of malfunctioning model? Or was I being an idiot.

I was after all sitting on a swing set in an empty, silent park, with cloudy gloom in the sky and misery in my heart. It was like all those cliché angst scenes in movies, where they cried and sobbed and contemplated their mistakes…well that was what I was doing right now wasn't it?

I choked out a humourless laugh, overwhelmed by the ridiculous situation I had created. I'm not sure how I consistently manage to make the wrong decision. It's impressive really. Statistically, I should have done something right between all these wrongs, even if entirely by accident. I should have just stayed with Stiles and his dad. Talked it out. That way I could actually solve the situation, rather than sitting here moping about it. Hindsight was a bitch.

And yet a small part of my brain contradicted this logic. Maybe the Sheriff only told me those things to make me feel better. I mean, it's not like he would tell me if Stiles did find me annoying. Maybe he just pitied me, saw me as a charity case. Maybe that's why he invited me over, because he felt sorry for the awkward teenager with no friends.

Anger rose up inside me. I hated this. My hands clenched in frustration. When had I turned into this self-pitying, pathetic little creature? It was a mass of questions and ponderings, sad snippets of my brain that were fighting against each other trying to be right and nobody was helping me organised it! I wanted it to end. I didn't like this feeling. I just wanted some form of peace and not the silent peace the park provided.

I wanted my heart to stop hurting. I wanted my brain to stop doubting everything. I wanted to be able to talk to the boys again and I wanted to stop running like a thief in the night. I just wanted this to be over. And yet I had a game to attend that night.

I didn't want to. I wanted to stay in that park forever. I wanted to wallow and brood swinging on that rusty swing. I wanted to bite at my finger nails and worry over everything. I didn't want to watch Stiles and Scott in their Lacrosse gear. I didn't want to be near the cause of my pain because I might run or I might not and I'm not sure which one I prefer anymore.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter either here or on my tumblr imaginesofeveryfandom :) Thank you, lovelies!