Hey guys! So it's ending soon but don't forget to check out my new story: Through Amber Eyes set in an AU universe where Scott and Stiles have two friends, Anna and Carly, and how they overcome all their challenges together: ( ) /s/8527034/1/Through-Amber-Eyes

Thanks for the support.

Lily's P.O.V:

My name is Isabelle Lahey, the woman had said, and I'm here to kill you. I don't want to die. I'd much prefer to go on living. I know I should run but everything in my body, every single tiny nerve to the largest bone was screaming at me, yelling at me to fight.

So I got a grip. I forced myself to become focused and balanced, to remove the hold this woman had on me. One thing was for certain. I hated this woman.

I couldn't understand why but I knew it had something to do with the way she spoke, with such a patronizing tone and the way she acted as if she was doing something somehow just reminded me of the ideals of the Argents which just made me loath her much more. My name is Isabelle Lahey. Isabelle Lahey. Lahey. Like Mr. Lahey: Coach of the 2006 swim team and allowed one boy to drown, threatened him then frequently abused two others. Or Lahey like Isaac Lahey just…Isaac. There were no other words to describe him, he was so mysterious and…. And….

And it was complicated. That is the only word I know how to use on him.

I want to kill this woman. And I want her to suffer. I want her to feel the pain he felt every day. How he took the beatings from his father then would have to so quickly find an excuse to make up as to why he missed school or why a freshly hammered in bruise was forming on his body. I wanted her to know what it felt like to be hurt, to be beaten down. I knew what it was like, too, but mine was just casual acts of cruelty from the Queen Bitch Bee, Lydia Martin and the odd shove or trip or sneer or harsh laugh from a jock or mean girl. No one had noticed how he would limp into school or how he would wince whenever someone accidently touched him.

I should have seen that his smile never reached his eyes and his eyes seemed much older and advanced than his sixteen year old body. It had taken me six years to realize. Six years. For all those years he had been beaten and broken into a shell and yet he kept going, never stopping or even pausing, just careering at top speed into me. I love you, he said and meant it. I wanted to tell him everything. I had so much I needed to offload onto someone it was unbearable.

I couldn't let her just murder me like this. That would be the easy way out, a choice like the one taken by Mrs. Argent. "I can't let that happen," I inform her and then she swipes at me. I dodge but only barely. As I duck, my body feels like its melting and I almost fall down. Gravity seems heightened to astronomic levels.

She kicks me, right in the jaw. I see stars and everything goes numb, the whole world just fades. I can be stabbed – twice - burned, attacked but I can't take a hit. My hands go instinctively up to protect myself and fire throws the woman backwards into an island countertop sat rotting in the middle of the kitchen. A burn spreads across her face and she screams but doesn't heal. I scowl at her. "You're not healing?"
"Not all witches are the same," she says with a snarling laugh, "I'm just an elemental. You're a rogue. An abomination." Isabelle says it with such abhorrence it hurts even if I do hate her. You're an abomination. Maybe she was right. I could fire lightning bolts, play with people's emotions and found it so easy to murder people. I am and Abomination.

She comes at me again and I throw her, grabbing her arm with so much anger I hear the shoulder disconnect in its socket. She shrieks but I only twist and slam, making the humerus bone snap like it's nothing but a piece of glass. For a moment, Isabelle is airborne, her face contorting in a mask of agony and disgust. Isabelle Lahey looks into my eyes as she falls, straight onto a jagged floorboard. I only realize as I hear a horrible tearing sound. By then it's too late. Isaac's mother is impaled and clearly dead. All around me the battle rages but all I can think about is the look in her eyes when I'd killed her. She looked at me as if I was a monster.

I ran.

I just lost it and abandoned my loved ones. I didn't know where I was going and I didn't really care. Running makes me feel alive. I've badly neglected my track practices recently and missed the championship but like I said, there are prices you pay for my secrets.

When my heart finally gives out I collapse in the frozen dirt. My body is shivering but not just with the cold. I can't stop shaking. I raise my head slowly. Unaware of where I am. Oh. Oh God. I'm staring at the gates of the cemetery, Isaac's old workplace. For a moment I'm petrified in place but I finally close my eyes, allowing a tear to track down my face before trembling to my feet. I attempt the gates at a slow pace. But once I finally get between the menacing gates I sprint again to two new-ish head stones.

I collapse opposite from them, vibrating with fear and adrenaline. The two graves and placed together as requested in their wills.

Tonya Diana Anderson nee Hayden

1971-2008

Beloved Sister, Daughter, Wife and Mother

In God's hands now.

People where funny creatures. They might go their whole lives not believing in any sort of God – like I had – yet they would have some sort of religious ceremony to mark their death. When my parents died, I had researched the afterlife to length. I'd googled Buddhism, Hinduism and Sikhism and read each result page for page. I began reading the Bible and Qur'an but gave up half way through. The idea of my parents burning in some eternal damnation wasn't exactly comforting.

I sat there for moments which span off into an century, until my muscles cried out for release and even then I sat with my knees curled to my chest to relieve the ache inflating in it. A tear tracked down my face, just a single glistening drop which is wiped away by the grubby back of my hand, coated in blood and dirt. I didn't cry when my parents died. Not when the lynx ripped their throats out and not when they were buried. I never cried at funerals and I didn't sob for days. People called me frigid, empty, dull and dead on the inside. Maybe they were right. I was always just a mask of serenity, not letting people in or giving them any sign that I was never not 'okay'. I'd done this for sixteen long, lonely years until him. He just got under my skin and no matter how much my logical brain tried to convince me he was wrong for me, I couldn't shake him and I couldn't stay away.

Clayton James Anderson

1967-2008

Father, Son, Husband and Friend.

Died protecting his wife and daughter.

And then, written right at the bottom of the grave, obscured by brambles and bracken was a line written by my father's best friends.

At least you went out in style.

Grandma thought it was offensive and wanted it removed from the grave but I laughed every time. I know I shouldn't, that it was disrespectful to the dead, to my dead but it was the truest words ever written. Any old fool could fall off a ledge, be hit by a car or tumble down the stairs but it took a real man to fend off a wild animal-

A noise from a darkened collection of graves is chilling. I am immediately jolted into my reality as a shiver runs across my body. I can sense something not quite human here but I can't place it. "Hello?" I say in barely a whisper, to which I get a growl in return. I'm on my guard now, as something sinister sneaks from the shadows. At first I think it's a fox, but then, with horror it takes on a feline shape and two piercing yellow eyes stare back at me. My legs buckle and this time there is no one there to catch me.

I know this animal. I don't know how I could ever forget seeing that face sprayed with the blood of my loved ones. What terrifies me more is that I do not see anger, or fear, or hunger or any speak of emotion I only see emptiness, devoid of all feelings even the most primal ones.

The lynx growls which is uncharacteristic of it. These animals aren't usually this aggressive and rarely attack people but this is no ordinary cat. The yellow eyes that shine brighter than that of Scott or Erica or Isaac's tell me that much. It paws the ground, claws spreading out across the jagged terrain. Then its hackles rise and it pulls its face back into a hiss, rows of ragged teeth sticking from its horrendous mouth like thorns.
"Go away," I manage to spit before it flies at me. I don't even think, I let my body think for me, it's much safer. I'm propelled forward as two sets of claws dig into my back. I scream and last out, grabbing handfuls of fur and skin, yanking and scratching before it can get the crucial throttle hold. It yowls and drops, screaming something unholy before it composes itself but I'm long gone by then.
I know full well that the lynx has an advantage. It's eyes are adjusted to darkened atmosphere and it easefully keeps pace with me, I notice, as it zooms in and out of trees at a distance to my left. But ten thousand years of evolution does give me an advantage. Millennia ago my ancestors used these hands to climb trees to escape predators. I know have to un-think two thousand years of civilization. I launch myself at a large fern tree in front of me and kick off from the ground using all my god given and supernatural power. I grip the trunk for dear life and manage to get three fingers around a stable branch. The lynx leaps at me, claw racking across my ankle. For a moment all I can feel is searing pain, worse than any wound I've ever felt. For a second, I can only hang there; feeling my body flood with agony, hearing the rush of blood flush down my ear canal and see nothing but flashing red like strobe rights at the back of my vision.

Despite my ankle, I climb higher until I'm hovering at least six feet above the ground. I look down at it triumphantly and this time there is emotion in its eyes. Smug satisfaction. I understand then I've made a tremendous error then.

Lynxes can climb trees.

It begins etching its way up the bark, making sadistic scratching sounds with its claws and letting out taunting whines. "Go away!" I scream, kicking at it with my good foot but it only snaps at me with jaws full of gapping, razor-sharp teeth. "GO AWAY!" I know effort is futile. I know that I'm going to die in this godforsaken forest so far away from home and away from him. Will they ever find my body or would the lynx eat me?

I know Isaac wouldn't stop until he found a body, I console myself, but I don't know if that's better or worse.

I let out a whimper as it leaps for my branch. My heart is pounding but I know what I have to do. I shut my eyes against the rush of tears and elapsing fear trying to prevent me from doing this.

Slowly, I uncurl my fingers from the branch and just as the animal jumps at me, I fall backwards. Suddenly I want to take it back. I claw at the air, sobbing and screaming waiting for my body to break against the forest floor.

I hit the ground with a resounding crack. My whole body feels like I've just been hit by a freight train. I don't know whether I'll heal from this much damage but I have bigger problems. I'm crippled and there is a lynx trying to rip out my jugular. The same cat that murdered my parents.

It slides down the tree gracefully and takes it's time reaching in me, circling my body with a low growl. It raises its hackles and throws its head back as it reaches for my throat….

….but something knocks it off course. It smashes into the tree and whips around wildly at the unseen threat. But I know who it is. I can sense them nearby. And as the lynx panic, he's springs again and wraps a mouth full of jagged fangs around its neck. It thrashes for a while; a desperate attempt to get free then goes limp.

He drops it and allows the wolf's features to retract. Then he rushes over, jeans pulling across the ground and tearing. He looks so wounded, so defeated.
"You're hurt," he whispers. No shit, but I keep my opinion to myself. "You're not healing."
"I think my body is going into shock," I manage to slur, as he slips me into his arms. I bury myself into him, into the familiar smell of the forest, destroying all the days of heart break and grief in a single moment. "I think I'm dying."