Trigger Warning: there will be depections and allusions to domestic violence and child abuse. Substance abuse is also mentioned (not involving any minors). Also, anything that is from the MTV TV series, 'Teen Wolf,' by Jeff Davis, is not mine.

Preface

Mary-Alice lays quietly in her room, rolling a sprig of wolf's-bane between her fingertips; the thin fibers on the stem tickling softly at her skin. Her mind is what feels like miles away, lost in dreams of stardust and laughter, just how she likes it, anywhere but here in Beacon Fucking Hills. But like all good things in her life, that too comes to an end; and her mind is reluctantly very much in the present, and paying attention to the screaming argument happening in her parents' bedroom just above her's.

Mary's expression twists as the sound of glass shattering echoes in the house and the hard smack of skin hitting flesh reverberates in the air, over and over again, until the thud of something hitting the ground breaks the continuous staccato beat.

If she was so inclined, she imagines she'd get up and help her mother off the floor, mop the blood up, and whisper that it was going to be okay, but she wasn't– not anymore.

She rolls over and tries to ignore the sound of her mother crying.

Her eyes gaze out the window, it's a full moon tonight, a great time for rituals and supernatural beings galore; a great time get the hell out of this suffocating mansion, this mansion that feels more and more like a coffin every day. The walls closing in by the minute and the oxygen slowly being sucked out the air with every curse word and threat voiced; killing everything in the house in slow-motion.

As her fingertips trace soft purple petals, Mary listens to the front door slam closed and her step-father's car tear out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath wrecked tires; listens as small feet pitter patter their way to her door and a small voice whispers, "Mary-Alice?"

Mary sighs, "come in, Luca," her door opens slowly and her baby brother's form slides under the covers behind her.

Taking one last, longing look out the window, she places the sprig on her nightstand and rolls over to hold her brother as the first of his sobs break through.

He's five-years-old and they're stuck in this house, with their stupid mother and fucking psychotic step-father; they're stuck until Mary-Alice turns eighteen or one of the neighbors build up some fucking nerve to call the cops (Mary-Alice doesn't hold out much hope for the second option, she'd hoped for two years, before she realized no one was coming and stopped wishing someone out there actually gave a damn.)

Her body tenses, she doesn't turn eighteen for another year.

Her grip is so tight that for a moment she's scared that it's too tight, but he grabs on to her just as desperately; his nails biting into the meat of her arms. She pushes her face into his hair and tries to pretend that the wetness on her cheeks is sweat, and that the bubbling heat deep in her veins― the one that's trying its damndest to claw its way out of her chest― is just heartburn (but Mary-Alice has always been a shitty liar, even to herself, and this particular brand of flame that eats up her insides, is one of hate.)

Luca continues to shake in her arms, even in his sleep, and Mary just lays there, waiting for the sun to rise so she can get them the hell out of here, at least for the day, if nothing else.

AN: So, I'm a terrible, terrible, person. I kinda—sorta— started a new story (or three) on accident?

No shit, there I was, trying to brainstorm how I was going to word the next chapter of 'High Tide' while simultaneously trying to finish my journalism paper; and then suddenly, I was writing a story about Isaac Lahey dating a witch.

Because, honestly? Isaac should've been in Season 6. He deserved better than having his love interest dying and then moving to France. My guy needs all the love! Ergo, Mary-Alice.

(Plus I've been depressed lately and that's when I want to write the most. So, I don't want to taint the smudge of happiness Ash (Main character of 'High Tide') has obtained, just because I'm in the mood for angst )

I hope you still love me,

—Pride.

P.S. Why is the Teen Wolf timeline so damn confusing? =[