wow, wow, wow! Such awesome feedback last chapter! I'm glad some of you are really getting into this! It makes writing this soooo much more fun! I also am happy to hear your catching onto some of Charlie's character development points I put in! As well as her little moment with Stiles! :)
this chapter is LONG! I just didn't know where to stop it, but I left it off on a cliff hanger to keep you guys waiting for the next update! Also, this one is VERY Charlie/Stiles centered, so let me know how you think they interact together (i.e. am I making it believable).
Okay, well I only own my OC, and pretty, pretty please, for those of you who have followed/favorited and have a moment, make a comment! They really make my day! Okie dokie, read away my friends! :D
TEN: YOU RASCAL YOU
The evening air was crisp, with a cool wind kicking up a few of the leaves that had fallen to the ground from the tree I was propped up against.
I would have been cold had I been able to feel anything, but my body was completely numb from the higher dosages of 'medicine' I had prescribed myself during the last couple days after finding out that Peter Hale was alive.
I didn't want to think about it… think about how the only person I had left, the only person I thought I could trust, had lied to me, and was now standing up for the man that literally caused me nothing but pain for my entire life.
So although my body was physically unable to feel much of anything, why was my mind still uneasy?
In a minute time-span, I'd go from wanting to break down crying, to wishing I could beat the nearest person's face back in, and then back again.
Maybe I needed to switch brands…
I mean your body could build an immunity to prescriptions, couldn't it?
Frowning as my clouded mind tried to think of a rational explanation as to why my trusty blue and whites were doing nothing to solve my turbulent emotional upheaval, I finished my cig as I continued to stare at the two shadowy figures on the roof of the local video store.
I had been avoiding Derek for the last 48 hours, but when I overheard him speaking to Scott about having caught the Alpha's scent, I snuck out and secretly tailed them.
Now, watching the flashing police cars pull up to the store, cops flooding into the rampaged building, I wondered why Scott and Derek hadn't run after the monstrous creature that had just burst through the shop window.
Why would my cousin drag our asses… well, Scott's ass since I merely followed them… out here to just watch what this thing could do?
If the sirens hadn't been so loud, perhaps I would have been able to hear what they were discussing up on the roof, but from the terrified expression on McCall's face, I could assume Derek was busy harping on the fact that the Alpha was a dangerous mother and that if he wanted to stand a chance against it, Scott needed my cousin's help.
Eyes narrowed, I watched an officer ushering out two very familiar witnesses: Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore.
Interest peaked, I straightened up and couldn't help myself from moving closer.
Stepping out of the shadows, I slowly slinked my way down the small incline and crossed the road, feeling no need to look for any oncoming cars.
My mind was too preoccupied about wondering if Jackson or Lydia had been bitten, or maybe saw something that could help me pinpoint who the Alpha was.
Wind blowing violently, I ducked under the caution tape and glanced up at the gaping Scott and Derek, suddenly hearing older cousin's heart racing angrily.
Stiffly shaking his head, he silently told me to back off.
Crooked grin tugging at my lips, I winked wickedly at him as a deputy spotted me and rushed over, stepping in my way.
"Miss, you can't be over here," his voice was stern and authoritative as he looked down at my face.
Eyes welling up, I looked up at him as my lip quivered: "I know, I know, but officer… my brother… he's over there."
Following my frantic gaze to Jackson and Lydia being tended to at the ambulance, the deputy looked back down at me as I forced myself to weep.
"T-that's your brother?" he asked, uncomfortably watching me break down in front of him.
Hyperventilating, my voice cracked as I cried: "Y-yes… oh, God, is he okay?"
And as a dead body was slowly being wheeled out of the video store, I wailed extra loud: "OH MY GOD! Is that a dead body? Oh my God! My brother, I-I need to see him… please… oh, God… please!"
Eyes darting over to the entire police force now staring at us, including Sheriff Stilinski and his wide-eyed, confused son, the deputy stammered: "You're brother is fine, but miss… I'm gonna have to tell you to take a step back…"
"Oh God, oh God, oh God! What do I tell my parents?" I ran a shaking hand through my hair, tasting my salty tears as my nose began to run.
"Deputy Marks, just let the poor girl through," his partner called over to us, and as the Sheriff gave a curt nod of approval, the officer backed off.
"Okay, go through," he sighed, stepping aside.
Sniffling, I looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes as I breathlessly stated: "Oh, thank you! Thank you!"
And as I walked away, I wiped my mascara and tear-stained face as I impassively made my way towards the oblivious Lydia and Jackson.
Damn, I'd make a great actress.
"W-what are you doing?" Stiles hissed as I walked by, light brown eyes nervously looking about.
"Going to check on my brother," I looked back over at him innocently as we let the gurney with the corpse pass in front of us.
"And they bought that?" he snorted in amusement, though when he heard Lydia's frantic voice talking to his father, his smile immediately faded.
"I sold that," I shot back, pushing past him and giving my fuming cousin one last small smirk before approaching Jackson.
Trying to look at concerned as possible, I reached out and gently touched his arm.
Flinching, he spun around, usually stoic blue eyes wide with fear.
"Charlie," he breathed, heart racing faster than Derek's irate one just above our heads. "What are you doing here?" he aggressively demanded, trying to salvage his tough-guy front, but I could see right through it.
Raising my brows, I inspected his highly suspicious face and decided to give up the charade of being worried about him.
Crossing my arms, I snarkily responded: "Came to pick up a DVD, but this is way more entertaining…"
Glaring down at me, Jackson clenched his jaw, but before he could say anything, Lydia walked over, eyes wide and somewhat vacant.
"H-he wants to speak to you now," the strawberry blonde muttered as she stared off into space and plopped down on the edge of the ambulance; Jackson simply shot me one last mistrustful look before walking over to Mr. Stilinski.
"Lydia," I spoke softly to the girl clearly in shock. "You okay?"
Not even blinking, she nodded her head in silence.
Biting my lip, I knew I needed to find out if she had seen anything, but I also understood that pushing her at this moment wasn't the brightest of ideas.
Sighing, I sat down beside her and pulled the red shock blanket around her hunched over shoulders.
Rubbing her back, I sat there quietly while Jackson screamed at the Sheriff: "I'm fine! So why can't I just go home?"
"I understand that, but the EMT said you hit your head pretty hard… they just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion," Mr. Stilinski stated apologetically.
"What part of 'I'm fine' are you having trouble grasping?" the rattled teen continued to freak out as he screamed into the Sheriff's face. "Okay, I just want to take my girlfriend and go home!"
"And I understand that," Mr. Stilinski's voice was patient, though I could hear his pulse quickening.
"No, you don't understand, which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you!" Jackson shouted.
Eyes shooting over to Stiles, who hadn't looked away from Lydia up until now, I saw the gawky teen clench his fists in anger.
I couldn't blame him.
If someone spoke to someone I cared about like that… disrespected them right in front of my face… I'd tear their tongue out…
And as Whittemore continued to rant, I lifted the unthinking queen bee to her feet and walked over to the Sheriff and captain of the lacrosse team.
"Okay, so I want to go home right now…"
"Um, Sheriff?" I spoke up quietly, trying to sound and appear as timid as possible.
Pissed that he wasn't getting his way, Jackson now glowered down at me, no doubt even more enraged that I cut him off.
"Yes?" he raised his brows, and though he tried to look stern, I could tell the cop was happy to have someone shut Jackson up.
"I, ugh, I can take Lydia home," I offered, trying not to grin as I stuck one to the irreverent lacrosse captain still glaring at me. "You know, so the EMT can make sure Jackson's okay…"
"I said I'm fine!" Whittemore hissed as I continued to soothingly rub the catatonic Lydia's back.
"Jackson, I know you're worried about Lydia, but I got her… so you don't need to feel guilty about taking it easy on yourself," my expression and tone of voice seemed perfectly sincere and concerned, however I knew my eyes held a mischievous glint in them.
Eyes flashing, I heard his heart rate skyrocket, and as I bit my cheek to keep from laughing, the Sheriff spoke up: "Well I think that's a fair compromise. Now you can relax and Lydia can get some rest."
Smiling broadly, I caught a stunned Stiles propped up against his father's squad car, clearly in awe that I just pulled off two Oscar-worthy performances in such a short period of time.
"But…" Jackson tried to speak up, but Sheriff Stilinski spoke right over him.
"Do you want me to have someone take you two home?"
"Well, it's not that far of a walk," I tried to sound as innocent and helpless as possible, watching a disgruntled Jackson get ushered back to ambulance, his furious gaze never leaving my calm face.
"Nonsense. I will not allow two young ladies to walk home with some wild animal running around town," he shook his head. "I'm getting you a ride…"
And as he walked off to make one of the officers escort us back to the Martin's, I muttered with a smug smile: "If you insist…"
Second venti black coffee in hand, I yawned as I dragged my body through the packed hallways.
After spending half the night sitting in Lydia's bedroom, trying to decipher her mindless babbling, I knew that with the teenager still suffering from shock, I had no chance of getting any information out of her.
So, after five hours of watching the strawberry blonde rocking herself backwards and forwards, I couldn't take it anymore.
"Lydia?" I asked, not expected her to even look at me. "Lydia, I know you saw something tonight… something the cops probably told you wasn't there…"
"A mountain lion…" she muttered her usual response.
Inhaling deeply, I tried to maintain my patience.
No doubt watching your boyfriend get attacked and some man get torn apart was traumatizing for the average human…
"Lydia, I'm going to give you something… to help you relax and rest, okay?" I began rummaging through my bag and pulled out my compact.
Opening the container, I was met with a dismal sight, indeed.
My stash was now dwindling to barely nothing, but for the moment, finding the Alpha was more important than my addiction, and getting Lydia to calm down and remember was part of it.
"Here," I handed her half of my Xanax pills, figuring I could just double up on the Vicodins until I could swipe some more. "Take one and try to sleep."
Taking her hand, I placed the pill in her palm, and suddenly, for the first time all night, Lydia's hazel eyes focused on my exhausted face.
"M-mountain lion?" she asked, voice still spaced out.
Shaking my head, I knew I shouldn't laugh at her expense, but at that point it was either give into a light chuckle or break down into tired, frustrated tears.
"It's medicine," I passed her the glass of water.
"Medicine?" she repeated, staring down at the pill.
"Yes, now put it in your mouth and drink this," I stated with an almost motherly tone of voice.
Speaking of mothers… why was no one home? Surely they received a phone call from the cops about what had happened…
Probably just another kid living with chronically absent parents…
I knew how much that sucks…
Nodding, her wide eyes became glassy as she placed the pill on her tongue, hand shaking as she took a sip of the citrus water.
Of course the Martin's only drank citrus water…
"Okay, well take another one tomorrow morning with food… I'll see you later," I put the glass back on her nightstand, and as I stood up and headed towards the door, I heard my peer call out.
"C-charlie?" her voice was trembling.
Turning back around from my spot in the doorway, I asked: "Hm?"
Singular tear rolling down her porcelain face, Lydia Martin stammered from beneath her sea of plush pillows and blankets: "T-thank you…"
Recalling that brief moment of sincere thanks from the usually boastful and proud teenage girl, I smirked to myself as I arrived at my locker.
I mean I knew I was only being kind to get what I wanted out of her, but then why was this warm, fuzzy feeling warming me from the inside?
It disgusted me…
"It's your birthday?" I heard Scott's voice ask.
Peering through the slots of my locker, I saw McCall and Argent talking.
"Uh, no," she lied, but as he raised his brows at her, she awkwardly grinned: "I mean, yes… it is, but please don't tell anybody…"
"Why?" he asked, scratching his head and readjusting the backpack that was slung over one shoulder.
"Because," she finished packing her books for the day, "I don't like people to know… cause I'm… I'm 17…"
Brows disappearing into his shaggy dark brown hair, he repeated: "You're 17?"
That's what she just said Point Dexter…
Chugging more of my coffee, I popped two Vicodins, swearing to only use my remaining Xanax when I was losing control…
"That's the reaction I was trying to avoid," Allison mumbled, frowning a bit.
"Why? I mean, I totally get it," Scott furrowed his brows, chocolate brown eyes gazing at the beautiful girl in adoration. "You just had to repeat a year cause you moved around so much…"
Smile breaking across her face, Allison looked back up at him as if she could kiss him right then and there, and that was exactly what she did.
Eyes still closed as she pulled away, Scott breathlessly asked: "W-what, ugh, what was that for?"
Grinning so that her rosy cheeks were decorated with her cute dimples, the brunette with curled hair responded: "For literally being the first person to ever make the correct assumption."
Zipping my tote bag, I closed my locker as Allison continued: "Everyone's always like did you get held back, or…"
"Did you ride the short bus," I grinned teasingly, as I walked over to the couple.
Shooting me a pointed look, Allison obviously realized I was kidding and lightly chuckled: "Yeah… something like that… even got a few people thinking I was pregnant."
"And that's what you hear on your birthday?" Scott asked whilst I sniggered at the idea of Chris Argent trying to deal with having a pregnant daughter.
"Oh yeah… all day long," she bit her lip, clearly dreading the entire day ahead of her.
Fighting a yawn, I finished my Starbucks and tossed it into the trashcan with ease: "So skip."
"What?" her and Scott asked in unison.
"Get out of here… enjoy your birthday for once," I folded my arms, raising my brows at the two straight-edged teens.
"For the whole day?" Allison inquired, still shocked that I'd suggest such an idea, however, as I looked at Scott, I saw him seriously contemplating my idea.
"No, just for study hall," I retorted sardonically.
Anxiously playing her hair, Allison ignored my sarcastic remark: "You realize your telling someone who never skipped one class, let alone bailed for an entire day…"
"No, see, that's perfect!" Scott excitedly grinned, fully on board with my plan. "If we get caught, they'll go easy on you," he explained to the clearly confused girl.
"But what if you get caught?" she voiced her concern over his wellbeing.
"I'll cover for you guys," I offered, feeling oddly generous today.
The budding couple both looked at me in grateful surprise.
"Really? You'd do that?" Scott asked, chocolate brown eyes steadily watching me.
I knew he felt uncomfortable about what had happened back when we found out my father was alive, and although I wasn't mad at him, I had been avoiding the young wolf.
Derek had basically built himself a second home up Scott's ass, and because it was either pretend that my older cousin was dead or me actually kill him, I decided to stay away until I could fully handle my emotions.
"I'll try," I responded as the bell rang. "Cause, I mean, someone needs to get out of this Hell hole…"
And as I flashed the smirking couple my own crooked grin, I waved over my shoulder and headed off to muddle through yet another painful day at Beacon Hills High School.
Completely zonked out, I went through most of my day in a drugged out haze.
With Allison, Scott, and Lydia out of school, I was pleasantly surprised that I was being left alone, and most of the people who greeted me everyday barely took any notice of my exhausted form slowly going about my day.
Glad to know I'm only worth attention when Lydia Martin's around…
Whatever.
Only two more periods left…
Entering the Economics classroom, I paused by Greenberg's desk, shoving his jacket into his distracted face rather gruffly.
Looking up from the cellphone he was poorly concealing in his textbook, Kyle looked up at me and took his lacrosse warm-up.
"Hey, Charlie," he grinned, bright blue eyes happy to see me.
"I, ugh, figured you'd want this back," I muttered awkwardly, hearing Danny sniggering behind me.
"Oh, yeah… I forgot I gave it to you," he lied.
That jacket made him a member of the Beacon Hills elite, even if he did suck at lacrosse, but nevertheless, Kyle Greenberg would have never lost track of such an item.
"Yeah, thanks again," I responded, avoiding his gaze.
"No problem… if you're ever, ugh, get caught in a rainstorm again… it's always here for you," he stammered, my cold disposition throwing him off a bit.
"I doubt that'll happen twice," I replied thoughtfully, but catching his disappointed face, I decided to throw the guy a bone. "But on the off-chance it does, I'll let you know."
Smirking, his freckled face burned bright red as I flashed the fakest of smiles.
Quickly turning back around, I hissed at the hysterical Danny as I took the seat next to him: "I don't see what's so funny…"
"Just was wondering when you two decided to go steady," he grinned. "You gonna make him carry your books from now on?"
Shooting him a pointed look, I punched the lacrosse goalie's shoulder, making him yelp out in pain as I smiled to myself.
"That's what you get," I chortled, my eyes catching Stiles watching me closely from his seat on the other side of Mahealani.
Immediately looking away, I felt an odd feeling in my stomach.
God, what was going on with me today?
First, I helped Lydia, then offered to cover for Allison and Scott, I was even nice to Greenberg, and now this?
Trying to shake it off, I chalked it up to my being high on the Vicodins.
"Just a friendly reminder: parent-teacher conferences are tonight.
Students below a 'C' average are required to attend, but I won't name you cause the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment," Coach Finstock marched his way up the aisle of students once the bell rang.
Rushing into the room, mid-speech, came Jackson Whittemore, his face pale and heart rate racing.
And as the whole class turned to look at him ducking into his seat behind me and beside Greenberg, the coach leaned over and muttered as he touched his shoulder: "Hey, Jackson. If you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know."
Nodding, Jackson kept his blue eyes averted, as Danny glanced somewhat worriedly at his friend, and then to me.
Seemingly confused as to why his best friend seemed so agitated, he frowned as Bobby Finstock told us to open up to Chapter 9.
Sure Jackson was probably still freaked about last night, but the way his heart was pounding in his chest, and from his unsteady breathing, I could tell something had recently happened…
"Where's McCall?" coach suddenly spoke up, standing over Stiles as he practically highlighted the entire textbook.
Light brown eyes drifting up, he raised his brows and shrugged while gnawing on the yellow cap in his mouth.
"He… ugh, wasn't feeling well," I spoke up, making everyone's eyes shoot over to me.
Wonderful. Now everyone's staring, and you're eyes are definitely all blood-shot…
Walking over, the teacher looked down at me with a sour expression, having never quite warmed up to me after I told him off on my first day.
"Well, Charlotte," he gave his dig as I clenched my teeth. "Be sure to relay to him that parent-teacher conferences are tonight."
"Of course, sir," I shot back, tone biting as I sneered up at him.
Still eyeing me closely, he then barked: "Mr. Stilinski!"
Jumping in his seat, the startled teen with short brown hair's head snapped to face the teacher.
"Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs," his harsh eyes took in the completely yellow textbook pages. "It's Econ, not a coloring book."
Eyeing Mr. Finstock with a slightly irritated look, Stiles then threw his head back and spit the cap high into the air and caught it.
Shaking his head, the coach began to give his lecture as Stiles whispered: "Psst… hey, Danny… can I ask you a question?"
Shooting me an annoyed look, Danny responded flatly: "No."
Giggling from my seat, I saw Stiles lick his lips and continue unphased: "Well I'm going to anyway… did Lydia show up in your homeroom today?"
How typical… worried about the girl that literally doesn't even know you exist…
"No," Danny grunted back, scribbling down some notes while I folded my arms and stared out the window.
I just wanted to go home.
"Can I ask you another question?" Stilinski pressed.
Sighing in exasperation, Danny hissed: "Answer's still 'no'…"
"Does anyone know what happened to her and Jackson last night?"
Stealing a glance at Dan's somewhat upset expression I quickly looked behind me to see that Whittemore had put his head down on his desk, probably equally as tired as I was from a long night.
"He wouldn't tell me," Dan muttered whilst I turned back to the windows.
"But he's your best friend!" Stiles pointed out the obvious.
Rolling my eyes, I sighed as I heard him push the conversation forward some more.
Jesus… did he ever give up?
"O-one more question…"
At this point, both Danny and I turned and merely glared at the annoying kid now hanging out of his seat as he stretched himself closer to his teammate.
"What?" Danny growled, turning back to the front of the room, clearly out of patience.
"Do you find me attractive?" his face was sincere, but as Danny merely blinked, shaking his stunned head, Stiles clumsily fell out of his chair.
Picking himself back up as if nothing happened, he asked one more time, voice more demanding: "Danny!"
And despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but giggle.
Standing on the toilet seat, head craned up and out the cracked window, my shaking hand clutched my cigarette desperately.
Damn, these Vicodin weren't cutting it…
Eyes glancing over at the smoke detector, I heard the sound of someone approaching, so taking one deep, final drag, I flicked the cig out the window and hopped down.
Spraying a bit of perfume around the stall, I then passed two girls as I left the bathroom, eager to head home and smoke the rest of my much-needed pack.
Rounding the bend to pack my things and ditch this prison of youthful insecurities, I spotted the heavenly sight of my locker, but just as I pushed through a crowd of girls from the math club, someone pulled my arm back.
Yanked into the corner of the still packed corridor, I angrily looked up at Jackson Whittemore, however, the moment I saw how fretful and frantic he appeared, I knew this private conversation was not going to go like the last one we had.
"What do you want, Jackson?" I tried to steady my startled heart, remembering to keep my cool unlike the last time we spoke.
"Y-your cousin… he cornered me in the locker room," his blue eyes had bags under them.
God, he was a wreck.
Furrowing my brows with confusion, I responded in an equally low voice: "Derek? He was here?"
Nodding, he folded his arms, heart racing: "Yeah."
"Did he threaten you again?" I asked, feeling anger bubbling up inside me.
If my damned cousin forced me to attend this shitty high school, then why couldn't he leave watching after it and its students to me?
He was only making things worse…
"N-not really," he swallowed hard, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, only to wince in pain.
Feeling guilty that my volatile older cousin lost control and harmed him, even if he was a self-centered jerk, I immediately told him to turn around.
"What?"
"Turn around," I repeated myself impatiently, ignoring Danny and Kyle watching us as they walked by.
Making a face, he slowly obeyed my command.
Going up on my tiptoes, I pulled back his collar and saw that the deep claw marks were still swollen and irritated.
"Are you cleaning it?" I asked, gently putting the shirt back to its original place.
Turning back around, he looked at me with a nervous expression: "C-Charlie… why were you there last night?"
"I told you, I wanted to get a movie," I shrugged, crossing my arms.
"Don't lie to me!" he cried, though it wasn't one of anger or aggression, rather it was one of desperation.
Looking down, I felt that familiar pang of guilt.
Sure he and Lydia were massive pains in the ass, and they seriously needed to get off their high horses, but neither of them deserved to get caught in the crossfire of this whole Alpha ordeal.
"I… I saw it," he mumbled, voice shaking.
"What?" I looked up at his anxious eyes darting around.
"Well… I think I did… I… I don't know what I saw," he started to ramble, sweat forming on his brow.
Why was he coming to me about this?
"I mean, the cops said it was a mountain lion," I tried to sweep it all under the rug and sell that I had no clue as to what was going on.
"No!" he snapped, eyes wide. "What you're cousin did to me… it's not…it's not normal, and what I saw last night…"
"What you thought you saw," I corrected him.
"It wasn't possible," he looked purely terrified. "And then Derek Hale comes out of nowhere in the locker room, asking me what I saw…"
"Derek's a weird guy," I tried to sound more amused by the conversation, but Jackson was not willing to let it go.
"Charlie, I know you know something. You and your cousin," Whittemore pressed, backing me against the wall.
This time, as the boy approached me, I didn't feel necessarily threatened, though I still felt uncomfortable.
"Listen, I know you're looking for answers, and I get it… I would too if I walked in on what you did," I spoke sincerely as I gazed up at his tired blue eyed. "But I think you should let the cops figure this out."
Trying to push past him, Jackson stepped in my way one more time, expression distressed: "I know you know what's going on!"
Turning back around, I placed a hand on his broad shoulder and looked back up at him with an overly sympathetic look: "Jackson, you're in shock… just take it easy, okay?"
Then, turning on my heel without another look back, I felt his eyes boring holes in the back of my head.
I felt bad. He definitely thought he was going crazy, and honestly, I couldn't blame him.
Everything was getting out of hand, and as I felt a small wave of panic flooding over me, I only knew it was a matter of time before Whittemore figured out my family's secret.
I just hoped we killed the Alpha and were halfway across the country by the time that happened.
"Oh, wow, only took 9 calls!" I heard Stiles by his own locker. "Do you have any idea what's going on? Lydia was MIA and Jackson looks like he has a time-bomb inserted in his fricken face!"
And catching me walking by him, he did a double take from where I left the still gawking Jackson and barked into his phone: "Well… just… just do something about it, okay?"
Hanging up, he slammed his locker closed, threw his backpack on, and sprinted after me.
"Charlie," he breathlessly greeted me, stumbling over his feet as we walked down the front steps of the school.
"Stiles," I continued to look straight ahead, mind torn between telling Derek that Jackson might be a problem or just keeping an eye on the situation myself.
"So, ugh, I saw you talking to Jackson," he watched me pull a bogie from my bag.
Sticking it in my mouth, I lit it up with a slightly shaking hand and muttered: "So you can see across the hallway. Congratulations, you got 20-20 vision."
Ignoring my foul-mood and sarcastic retort, he asked with a disgusted face: "You smoke?"
Glancing at him, I felt a twinge of anger.
Why does when someone smoke, they automatically get judged?
"Only when I'm pissed… or stressed," I growled.
Making a thoughtful face, he jumped in front of me, walking backwards as I continued to head around to the back road to go home.
"Bet I know what you're stressed about," he tugged on the straps of his backpack.
I didn't have patience for this game.
Looking at him sourly, I spoke flatly: "Possibly killing you in front of a parking lot full of people?"
Puffing out his cheeks, his light brown eyes looked around before a weak chuckle escaped his throat: "No, I meant about last night."
Looking at his raised brows, I didn't respond and merely continued to make my way through the parking lot.
"He saw something, didn't he?" Stiles pressed, unphased by his bumping into a car. "That's why he was acting so weird today… and why he wanted to talk to you…"
"And here I thought it was cause I had a very approachable and welcoming personality," I inhaled the smoke, nerves a bit more at ease.
Chortling at my deadpan joke, Stiles then noticed that I, myself, wasn't laughing, so his dopey grin immediately faded.
"What is it you really wanna know, Stiles?" I sighed, stopping in front of his Jeep.
Rocking on the balls of his feet, he ran a hand over his short black hair: "W-what do you mean? I just wanna know if he saw something…"
"You sure?" I cocked a brow knowingly.
"Well… and if Lydia did too," he tried to add casually, but I saw right through it.
"She's fine," I took another pull, staring at his now relieved face.
"Are you sure? How do you know? I mean she wasn't even in school, and I thought that something had to have happened to her last night… I mean you saw her…"
Covering his mouth, silencing his mile a minute rant, I looked up at his animated face and stated simply: "I gave her something to calm down, so she took the day off to rest. She'll be back in tomorrow…"
"Oh," he furrowed his brows, watching me leave to continue my walk home. "What did you give her?"
"If you're so worried about it, why don't you just go see her?" I suggested, turning to face him, arms outstretched.
Mouth slightly open, Stilinski stared back at me dumbly, the thought clearly never having crossed his cluttered mind.
"W-well… I mean I would," he rushed over to where I was standing impatiently and looked down at me with a dorky smirk: "But, ugh, I don't know if she'd you know…"
"Know who you are?" I guessed, brows raised in slight amusement.
Huffing, he crossed his arms and stammered defensively: "N-no… I was gonna say… I don't know if she'd ugh, want visitors…"
Pretending to think real hard, I answered: "Well seems like quite the predicament… wish I could help."
Turning to leave again, Stiles called after me: "Just come with me, all right?"
Stopping, I faced the beseeching kid once again, his light brown eyes staring down at me like some little, lost puppy dog.
"Please," he clasped his hands together.
Dammit, Charlie… you're such a sucker today!
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and muttered: "Can't believe I'm agreeing to help enable your sick obsession with her…"
Grinning broadly, he obviously did not care about my basically calling him a stalker, but rather, he yanked the cigarette from my mouth and tossed it onto the ground.
"No smoking in the Jeep," he said, merrily bouncing over to the car and hopping in.
Staring at the wasted and smoldering cig on the concrete, I then looked back up at his flushed, beaming face and muttered bitterly as I slid into the seat next to him: "I need to start threatening you more…"
"Honey, there's a Stiles here to see you," the stunning Mrs. Martin greeted her doped up daughter, who was currently lying on her bed in a very revealing navy blue lace nightgown.
"What the Hell is a 'Stiles'?" Lydia asked, trying her hardest to prop her head up on her hand to look at her unknown visitor.
Unable to contain myself, I immediately broke out into quiet sniggers, while Stiles made a face of both disappointment and frustration.
I knew I should have felt bad for him, but how could he like someone so shallow? He barely even knew her, for Christ's sakes! And clearly she had no idea who he was… even after stalking her since grade school…
"You can… you can just go in," she smiled awkwardly before turning her attention onto me. "You, ugh, must be Charlie."
Watching the middle-aged woman scan me, clearly assessing whether or not I was a proper girl to be associating with her precious Lydia, it took everything I had not to roll my eyes and storm out.
The mother of the year didn't even come home to see if her daughter was okay, but sure… go and judge me…
"Yup, nice to meet you," I extended my hand with a wide, bright smile plastered on my face.
Still uncertain of whether or not she approved of me, I must have seemed at least convincing in my falsely pleasant greeting, for she gently shook my hand and smiled back.
"Lydia told me that your cousin's a doctor," she seemed skeptical of her own words.
Eyes glancing over at Stiles merely standing there and staring at Lydia sprawled on the bed chewing on her hair, I knew what the strawberry blonde's train of thought must have been.
Biting my cheek so as not to grin and blow Lydia's cover, I nodded and responded: "I hope it's okay he gave her something to calm her nerves… he just felt awful about what happened…"
"Oh, no," she waved me off, now officially buying that I was just the concerned new friend that Lydia mentioned. "I just wanted to say thanks."
"It's no problem," I grinned, the thought of Derek being some sort of hotshot doctor cracking me up.
"Okay, well I'll leave you guys alone. Thank your cousin for me," she shut the door.
"So Derek's a doctor now?" Stiles muttered, eyeing the drugged up Lydia Martin now rubbing her no doubt tingling arms.
Oh, how nice it was when one pill a day did the trick…
"Apparently," I watched her with an amused grin.
"What did you give her?" Stilinski's eyes were wide.
"What are you doing here?" the strawberry blonde's hazel eyes suddenly recognized that two people were standing at the foot of her bed, staring.
"I… um, we… we were just making sure you were okay," Stiles stammered, scanning her revealing attire and averting his eyes sheepishly.
It was adorable how conflicted he seemed. Being a boy he had the urge to ogle at her half-naked body, but being the kind, innocent soul that he was, he most definitely felt like he was violating her.
It was kind of refreshing…
"Why?" she crawled over to the foot of her bed, kneeling up and looking straight into his flushed face.
"Well… because I was worried about you today," he looked down nervously. "H-how are you feeling?"
"I feel fantastic!" she gestured grandly before falling back into the massive pile of pillows and blankets. "Thanks to you, Charlie…"
And whilst the queen bee giggled, Stiles' light brown eyes landed on the pills I gave her, sitting on her bedside table.
Glancing at one another, I knew he what he was going to do, and as a wave of embarrassment rushed over me, the both of us dove to the table.
Beating him to it, he tried to reach around me as I boxed him out.
"What… the… Hell," he grunted, struggling as I slapped away his reaching hands.
Laughing hysterically, Lydia rolled around in her bed and called out: "What are you doing? I wanna play! Charlie come play with me!"
"Yeah, Charlie," Stiles panted in my ear while we continued to struggle to fight the other off. "Go play with her."
Glaring at him, I opened my mouth to give some sort of retort, but Lydia literally came out of nowhere and pulled me down into that sea of a bed of hers.
"I'm so happy we're friends," she hugged me, immediately making my body stiffen up.
Bleh. Hugs were the absolute worst…
"Whoa, Xanax… I bet you can't say 'I saw Suzy sitting in a shoeshine shop' ten times fast…" I heard Stilinski chuckle, examining the pills.
Then looking over at Lydia now kneeling before me, head smothered in my chest, his face turned bright red as his mouth dropped.
"You're my bestest friend… like ever," she looked up at me, face unnervingly close to mine.
Playing with my long, black hair, she continued to get closer to my face, eyes never blinking, and as my eyes darted awkwardly to Stiles, I could see that this literally was turning into the beginnings of every teenage boy's fantasy.
"O-okay," I quickly got up, making Lydia break out into squealing laughs as she fell back over. "Well now I'm thoroughly uncomfortable."
"Where are you going?" Stiles' wide eyes followed me to the door, no doubt wishing some sick fantasy of his would play out.
"She's totally bombed," I put my hands on my hips.
"TOTALLY!" she cried, voice muffled from the pillows her giggling face was buried in.
"She's not gonna be any help tonight…"
And as I turned to leave, I heard the sexually frustrated Stiles sigh in heavy agreement.
"Yeah, you're right," he muttered, but as I opened the door, bidding Lydia farewell over my shoulder, the strawberry blonde spoke up.
"No, stay," her voice was oddly seductive.
Confused, I turned around and saw Lydia now gripping Stiles' arm, gazing up at him with her glassy, doe-like hazel eyes.
I could hear his heart racing, as a small whimper emitted from his quivering lips: "M-me? Stay?"
Eyes wide, the flushed kid's dreams were literally coming true as Lydia pulled him down onto the bed beside her.
"Y-you want me to stay?" he dumbly asked again, making her grin seductively and nod her head.
I don't know what had happened, but the moment I saw his face staring at the beautiful girl like that, and hearing his heart flutter, I needed to get out of there.
I hated mushy stuff… so that was definitely it…
But then why didn't I simply feel nauseas like when I was stuck watching Scott and Allison get all cutesy? Or Jackson and Lydia?
Why did I feel this odd tightening in my chest as a hot flash suddenly swept over me?
It was probably Xanax withdrawal coming on…
Yeah, that was it…
And as I stepped outside after a brief good-bye to Mrs. Martin, I took off down the street, inhaling the much-needed cool, evening air.
My head throbbed.
Pulling out my compact, I popped two more Vicodins, hoping my pounding migraine would go away.
Why was I so all over the place today?
I really needed to restock… before something serious happened and I lost control…
Walking along the dimly lit sidewalk, I pulled my black blazer closer around my body, heels clacking away and crunching on some fallen leaves.
Then I smelt something…
It was familiar… a woodsy, musty scent…
Stopping, I peered into the dark yards of suburban Beacon Hills, ears and eyes peeled.
With the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly standing on end, I felt my heart rate escalating.
Something was behind me… staring… perhaps waiting to pounce…
Slowly, I turned around, and as I stared into the black trees lining some random person's massive backyard, I could have sworn I saw two, large, menacing red eyes peering back at me.
I would've have gone investigate it, but the moment I stepped off the curb and into the road, a large blue Jeep suddenly screeched to halt, just missing my toes.
"What the Hell, Stilinski?" I barked, having had to jump back to avoid getting run over.
"Oh, like my hitting you would've even left a scratch," he correctly stated, though I was still quite irritated by how unconcerned he was.
Shooting the gawky teen a vexed look, I walked around the front of the car and stared into the backyard, eyes narrowed.
Sticking his head out the window, Stiles' brown eyes followed mine to the random property, but spotting nothing, he asked: "What are you doing?"
Wind picking up, I frowned and mumbled: "I thought I saw… you know what? Nevermind…"
Eyeing me like I was crazy, Stiles suddenly remembered whatever it was he needed to share just so desperately that he almost hit me with his shitty Jeep.
"Okay, well, get in the car!" his voice was rushed and excited.
Still standing in front of the Jeep, I squinted in the headlights and folded my arms stubbornly: "Why?"
"Cause I found something, but I don't know what to do about it," Stilinski breathlessly tried to explain.
"Call Scott," I crossly responded, remaining in my spot defiantly.
His presence was bothering me to no end…
"He, ugh, he won't answer," he grumbled, clearly a bit annoyed at his best buddy.
"So then go talk it over with Lydia," I was trying to keep my voice even, though I was struggling not to just yell at the irritating teenager to leave me alone.
"L-Lydia?" he asked, brows raised. "I can't talk this over with Lydia," he responded incredulously.
"And why not?" I sighed, putting my hands on my hips.
"Well for starters she called me Jackson, and two… she, ugh, she probably should never see this… like ever," Stiles spoke thoughtfully, head still hanging out of the Jeep at the most awkward of angles as his hand impatiently tapped on the door.
I couldn't help but grin.
"So she thought you were Whittemore, huh?" I cocked my head to the side.
Giving me an unamused look, Stiles paused and then erratically gestured about in frustration: "Could you just get in the car?"
Still smirking, I chuckled to myself and moseyed on over to the passenger side door, my pounding headache mysteriously gone.
Watching the colossal wolf break through the video store's front window, only to have its beady red eyes stare right into the camera, I sat on Stiles Stilinski's swively desk chair with a very disturbed face, indeed.
Pausing the video, and therefore muting the frantic Lydia's shrieks, I stared back at those familiar glowing eyes as a chill ran up my spine.
This wasn't just some newbie werewolf… it was an Alpha…
This thing was smart and cunning… always aware of its surroundings and could go to and fro, unseen, with ease.
There was no way this could have been a lucky accident.
It had to have wanted to get caught on camera.
But why?
Frowning, I zoomed in at its beastly, fanged teeth, foam dripping from its snarling snout as my companion paced his room at a dizzying pace.
"Hey, its me… again," his irritated voice was stressed. "Look, I found something, and… and I don't know what to do, okay? So if you could turn your phone on right now, that'd be great."
Pausing in the middle of his tenth message, the boy's light brown eyes landed on my uneasy face, and the moment he realized that I was just as troubled by what Lydia had caught on her phone's camera, Stilinski added grumpily: "Or else I'll kill you. You understand me? I'll kill you, Scott!"
Tripping over his words, Stiles furrowed his brows as he tried to make his threat more convincing, but the peculiar teen could only manage to blurt out: "A-and I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm gonna kill you, but I'm just gonna do it, okay? I'm gonna!"
The message must have then cut out, because Stiles let out a series of loud, grunt-like syllables before throwing his phone onto his bed with a scrunched up face.
Brow raised, I couldn't help but smirk.
I found the energetic teen amusing.
"So? What do you think?" he sighed.
"Very scary… Scott's definitely gonna crap his little werewolf pants," I grinned, spinning around in the chair.
Needing a moment to realize that I was teasing him about his less than intimidating voicemail, Stiles made a face and yanked Lydia's cellphone from my hands: "Ha-ha, good one…"
"I thought so," I merrily responded.
"I meant about the video," he hit the replay button, brows furrowed. "What should we do about it?"
"Delete it?" I suggested simply.
"D-delete it? Why? This could help us find the… well, whatever its called," Stiles stated excitedly, plopping down at the edge of his bed, bouncing his leg a bit as his mind obviously began thinking of ways we could use such a video to our benefit.
"Alpha," I crossed my legs, picking a piece of lint off my black leggings before lazily saying: "And no good can come from keeping that..."
"How could this be anything but helpful?" he argued, hands gesturing animatedly.
"Well for starters, if this got around somehow, the Argents won't the only hunters Scott and I will have to worry about," I folded my arms, brows raised as I gave my reasoning. "And secondly… Alphas are the strongest of our kind. They're fast, and smart…"
Biting his nails, I could tell Stiles caught on to the darker undercurrent of my words, for the teenage boy asked a bit anxiously: "So what are you saying?"
Light brown eyes following me as I stood up and moved to sit beside him, Stiles' pulse had picked up once I took the phone from him and zoomed in on the Alpha's terrifying face.
"I'm saying," I stared into those haunting red eyes. "This thing doesn't get caught on candid camera unless it wants to…"
Looking down at the monstrous creature, Stiles swallowed hard as he watched my finger linger over the 'delete' button, and after quickly glancing at him for a word or look of opposition, I clicked it, watching the Alpha's pixilated face disappear.
"Stiles, I'm heading over to the parent-teacher conference," Sheriff Stilinski suddenly opened his son's door, causing the both of us to awkwardly hide Lydia's cellphone behind us.
What was up with parents invading their kids' privacy in this town?
"Oh," Mr. Stilinski's pale green eyes landed on my hot face, and then drifted over to his son's just as blotchily flushed cheeks. "I… I didn't know you were having company…"
"Ugh, we're just… um," Stiles tried to think of an excuse as his father continued to eye me oddly.
"We're just studying," I blurted out nervously, though the second the sheriff's gaze landed on our untouched book-bags, I realized what an absolutely horrible lie that was.
Unconvinced, he raised his brows: "Mhm."
And just as a small smirk tugged at the corner of the handsome man of the law's lips, a look of recognition flashed across his face.
"Hold on, I know you," he took a step further into the bedroom, "You're the girl that took Lydia Martin home."
"Ugh, um, yeah," I forced myself to smile, though my heart was panging against my chest erratically.
"How's she doing?" he asked, eyes narrowed a bit as he crossed his arms.
Light brown eyes darting between his father's probing stare and my clearly struggling face, Stiles blabbered: "She's good, great even! We just came back from seeing her, but she was a kinda out of it from…"
"From obviously seeing what she did last night," I cut him off with a harsh look before he could slip that I had illegally given Lydia prescription medication.
Clearing his throat, the younger Stilinski rapidly nodded his head: "Yeah… with the dead body and all… did you find out what did it, by the way?" he crossed his arms, inelegantly changing the conversation.
Looking between both of our awkwardly smiling faces, Sheriff Stilinski paused, perhaps suffering from a headache due to the amount of undecipherable word vomit that had just been thrown his way.
"Um, no, we haven't," he said slowly. "So… Miss…?"
"Charlie," I stood up abruptly, sticking my hand out and introducing myself to him rather gawkily.
Why was I so nervous?
Jesus, these withdrawal jitters sucked major ass…
Entertained by how obviously flustered I was, the Sheriff smirked and shook my hand, his light green eyes drifting back over to his beat red son: "Well, Charlie, make sure you get home before curfew, all right?"
Looking up at him, I nodded and ignored my heart beating in my ears: "Yeah, sure, of course…"
Grinning, he looked down at me for a moment or two, and for the first time in a while, I didn't feel like I was being judged.
It was oddly nice.
And as his dad stared down at me with the warmest of looks, Stiles stood up and tried to rush him out of the room with an awkward chuckle: "Well, have fun at the conference."
Son pushing him back towards the door, Sheriff Stilinski then looked down at Stiles' with a somewhat tired expression: "Yeah, please tell me I'm gonna hear good news at this thing tonight…"
Eyes narrowed, Stiles tentatively offered: "Ugh, depends on how you define 'good news'."
"I define it as you getting straight A's with no behavioral issues," Mr. Stilinski's voice was filled with doubt.
"You might wanna rethink that definition," the pale boy with short brown hair honestly stated.
Pursing his lips, the sheriff sighed: "Enough said," and as he turned to leave, he quickly poked his bed back into the bedroom and added: "And nice to meet you, Charlie… always nice to see friends other than Scott…"
"Okay, bye, dad!" Stiles' strained voice drowned out my giggles as he closed the door in his father's face.
Back pressed against the door, he sighed with relief, but when his light brown eyes took in my highly amused face, he asked dryly: "What?"
"Nothing," I grinned, chuckles finally subsiding as I honestly stated: "He seems nice."
"Yeah, he's all right, I guess," he muttered, grabbing his laptop and plopping down on the bed beside me.
"Beats my dad," I muttered under my breath darkly.
"What?" he asked, absentmindedly typing away.
"Nothing," I responded quickly, causing him to look up at my frowning face.
Feeling uncomfortable under his steady gaze, I suddenly rose, pretending to be intrigued by the massive pile of video games the dorky kid had accumulated on his desk and dresser.
"So… I'm guessing you don't get many girls up here, huh?" I asked over my shoulder as I read the countless titles.
"No! Plenty of girls come over," he denied my words way too quickly.
Turning, I cocked my head to the side and grinned: "Really? Cause my being here sure seemed to surprise you dad…"
"Well… he's…" Stiles stalled, trying to think of a good counter-argument, but soon drew a blank and merely snapped: "Whatever… I've had girls over before…"
"When?" I crossed my arms.
"A few times," he seemed to be trying to think back as long as possible on the off chance that he ever did have a female over. "Like once or twice..."
Staring at his very thoughtful face, I raised my brows and laughed: "When you were what? Ten?"
"No," he defensively stated, before admitting, "Like twelve…ish…"
Taking in my laughing form, Stiles sourly grumbled: "Oh, shut up."
"Hey, their loss," I turned back to his collection of movies and games. "You got some pretty cool stuff."
"I do?" he asked in surprise, face perking up a bit.
"Yeah, I mean some of it's totally dorky," I lifted up his million copies of World of Warcraft as an example, "But you got some gems here…"
"Really? Like what?" he stood up, walking over to where I was examining his vast movie collection.
"Well… you got every horror classic under the sun, Lord of the Rings, Supernatural, Dr. Who," I rattled off some of my personal favorites, "Plus you only own the first three Indiana Jones and Star Wars movies, so major props to you."
Light brown eyes wide and mouth slightly opened, Stiles seemed a bit stunned as he stared down at my thoughtful face.
"What?" I nervously chuckled, shifting positions uncomfortably.
Again with the staring...
Breaking out into one of his wide, dopey grins, Stilinski pointed his finger teasingly: "Charlotte Hale's a secret geek…"
"Maybe I am," I crossed my arms, proudly looking up at him before adding sternly: "And call me that again, and my foot's going up your ass…"
"And your back to being a scary bully," he chortled, backing away, though I could tell he didn't remotely take my threat seriously.
Trying to look intimidating, I could barely keep a straight face, but as the boy turned around and focused on his computer again, I broke into a small grin.
Phone buzzing for the umpteenth time, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to keep myself from tossing the damned thing out the window.
Derek had been calling me every fifteen minutes for the past hour, and although I desperately wanted to turn my phone off, I agreed to leave it on in case Scott decided to try to call either Stiles or myself back.
"You ever gonna answer that?" the pale boy with large brown eyes asked doubtfully.
Hitting the 'ignore' button again, I slid off my black blazer and wrapped the irritating piece of technology in it, silencing my cousin's phone calls once and for all.
"No," I grumpily stated, blowing my hair out of my vexed face.
"What if it's serious?" Stilinski pressed, examining the stack of papers in front of him.
I had asked him to look into his father's files about the fire at my old home, which he agreed to do under the condition that I sat there and didn't touch a thing.
Stupidly agreeing to comply, there I sat for sixty minutes, staring at the wall, bored out of my mind, and not even allowed to smoke a bogie on the roof.
This was torture…
"Then it'll teach him not to be a dick all the time," I resumed my activity of spinning around in dizzying circles on the desk chair. "Especially since I saved his ass once this week all ready…"
"Actually I believe I saved his life," Stiles reminded me of the swift punch in the face that brought my older cousin back from the dead.
Biting my lip, I knew he was right…
God, I hated 'thank you's.
Still rotating in the chair, I mumbled: "Yeah… I guess I never thanked you for that…"
"You sure you wanna thank me?" he had an amused look on his face. "Cause it seems like you'd be happier with him being dead right about now…"
Laughing, I had to admit I certainly seemed like I hated the guy… and part of me did, but he was still my cousin, and that had to count for something, right?
"Can't say I wouldn't mind being left alone for once," I mused aloud with a wry grin.
Peering over the top of stack of papers, Stiles asked: "He gets on you a lot, huh?"
"Have you met him?" I countered, brows raised.
Nodding in agreement, Stiles then looked down and began flipping through the pages of the police report some more.
Gnawing on the pencil in his mouth, he exhaled in exasperation over how fruitless this research session had been.
Then, Stilinski crossed out about three full paragraphs of notes he had scribbled down on a separate piece of paper, threw his hands up in defeat, and cried angrily: "Well I'm all out of ideas."
Standing up, I yawned and walked over to him.
Tugging the papers out of his hands, I ignored him snapping at me to put them back.
"Oh please, its not like your dad's gonna notice these are even gone," I waved him off, skimming the reports. "The case has been closed for years."
"Yeah, well, what if it opens back up again?" he countered, now reading over my shoulder as I sat beside him.
"They listed it as an electrical fire," I pointed out, feeling a twinge of anger about how the apparent justice system failed to deliver any kind of justness or compensation for my family.
Leaning literally right on top of me, the boy with no regard to personal space jabbed his finger at a section on the page and stated: "It says case is still open pending possible arson."
Snorting in disbelief, I tucked some hair behind my ear and shook my head: "Yeah, 'possible' arson… cause you know, two hunters torching the place with flame throwers leaves so much room for interpretation."
Feeling that familiar sensation of his light brown eyes intently watching me, I looked up with an uncomfortable expression.
What the Hell was he staring at?
Head throbbing, and dying for another Vicodin, cigarette, or just about anything at this point, I snapped defensively: "What are you looking at?"
Eyes shooting down, he seemed to be thinking of something to say, for he merely mumbled: "I, ugh, I didn't know you were there went it, um, I just didn't know you were there…"
And as I looked at his sympathetic and apologetic face, my mind went back to that horrible night.
Shaking it off, I shrugged and tried to sound as impassive about it as possible: "It was a long time ago… let's just focus on…"
And then, something caught my eye, stopping me mid-sentence.
"What? What is it?" Stiles asked, scrutinizing over the same piece of paper he had unsuccessfully been staring at for the past hour.
Holy shit...
We always knew that some group of hunters were responsible for the death of our eleven innocent family members, but there was never a shred of evidence, let alone proof as to who actually burnt the old Hale house down.
But now, heart racing wildly, three little printed words affirmed the hunch my cousins and I had for years: Witness: Kate Argent.
Shaking, I shoved the papers back into Stiles' hands, ignoring his constant questioning as to what I saw.
Rushing over to my blazer, I whipped out my phone and saw the 5 voicemails blinking like a silent SOS from my cousin.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I put the phone to my ear and listened to the sounds of a female voice taunting my older cousin as he yelped out in pain.
I had literally ignored Derek's calls for help while the very person that murdered our entire family tortured him…
Blood rushing to my head, I couldn't think as rage swept over me.
"Charlie? What's going on? What did you…" he suddenly stopped talking, immediately looking at me with a nervous expression.
I knew he finally made the connection, too, but as his voice echoed in my head, telling me to calm down, I knew it was too late.
Color vision fading from my eyes, I let out a loud, beast-like roar, and leapt from Stilinski's window, with nothing but murder on my mind.