Alright, second chapter down. I'm pretty much 100% on this story taking place at the beginning of 3A, though it won't be too involved with the storyline until I finish laying the bases.

Anyway, onward and enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Teen Wolf, its characters, or any affiliated entities. I maintain artistic license of my original character(s).

As Emmalyn weaseled her way through the rushing crowd of teenagers, she began to grind her teeth together as an all too familiar feeling began to set in. The walls of the hallway felt like they were chasing her as her vision began to tunnel and twist. Stopping dead in her tracks and squeezing her eyes shut, she attempted to calm herself down from what was nearing a hyperventilative state, but her concentration was continuously broken by the pushes and shoves of the other students trying to beat the bell to their next class. Her nails dug into her upper arms as she clutched her books tighter to herself trying to drown out the commotion around her.

Ten..nine..eight..seven...six...five...another passing shoulder brushing against hers. She knew that she would never be able to calm herself down with all of the commotion around her. Her small feet carried her as fast and as steadily as they could, wide, tear filled eyes searching desperately for somewhere to hide. Every time someone ran into her, she would flinch away, her breath hitching in a way that was sure to pave the way for a complete meltdown.

"Hey," a tenor called out to her, laying a firm hand on her shoulder, "you OK?"

Emmalyn whipped around, only to bolt in the opposite direction when yet another familiar face met her own.

Too many people..too soon. This was a terrible idea, I should have listened. I should have... She ran into a wide chest that bellowed after with a 'watch where you're going' as she dashed around the corner and found refuge in the bathroom.

Throwing open the door to the handicap stall and swiftly locking it shut, she sunk to the floor and attempted to ease her labored breathing. Reaching for a bottle of water in her bag, she tried to drink it, hoping that it would make her hold her breath long enough to calm her down, but cried out in desperation and tossed it half full to the side when she was met with a fit of sputtering and choked on the drink.

Concentrate...just concentrate. You can do this, she told herself in half hearted promises, and what seemed like hours later, her breathing finally calmed down to a normal rate.

Tossing her head back against the cold tile wall, teary eyes wandered their way to the back of the stall. She was already late for her next class, a few more minutes wouldn't make much of a difference if it helped her get through the rest of the day.

oOo

Emerging from the bathroom stall half an hour after she had initially stumbled in, she dragged her bag behind her as she made her way to the sink.

"Keep calm, keep out of stressful situations, keep to yourself," she told herself like a broken record, eying her own reflection. She looked her face over, scrutinizing her own makeup job. Over time, she had learned to hide things, but it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough. Gripping the edges of the sink and recollecting her thoughts, she looked back up to her reflection, only to be confronted by who she had been a year ago. Shaking her head and checking again, she once again found the public version of herself, she one she used to hide from prying eyes. This was who she was to the world now, no one had to know.

Taking her time to maintain her composure, she slowly made her way to her French class, grimacing when she realized she would have to see Ms. Morrell more than just her scheduled time with her. She approached the desk, holding her shoulders high in an attempt to shrink away from view.

"I got lost," was the best answer she was able to offer her, knowing that even Ms. Morrell knew it was a complete lie. Her teacher's shoulders fell in defeat at her answer, a sigh of disappointment tracing her lips as sh motioned to the only empty seat left in the room.

Emmalyn turned for her seat and wondered to herself if the world was out to get her that day. Had her father put them up to this? It all seemed just too perfectly formulated when she noticed who occupied the seat in front of her.

Keep your head down, keep quiet. She could only hope this block would go by without incident, but she knew she wouldn't be that fortunate.

"Do I know you?"

She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise to the slightly shrill sound of Lydia Martin's voice.

Ignore her.

"You used to go to school here, right? Did we have classes together? We must have, I don't usually remember unimportant faces."

Tell her. Yell at her. Scream at her. Remind her just how miserable she made your life, how she would taunt you relentlessly. Give her a taste of her own medicine. Call her all of the names she used to push you over the edge.

She could feel the searing look of Lydia's scrupulous gaze, not missing a thing.

Say something, throw her off balance. She's just gathering cannon fodder. She'll come after you again.

"Hm, maybe not. Anyway, cute shoes."

Just like that the most harmless confrontation she'd ever had with Lydia was over. Was it even a confrontation if she had just complimented her? Or was she trying to throw her off her game? No, she knew exactly who she was. She waiting. Calculating. Planning out her down fall like the cold hearted snake she'd always been. Mapping out her social demise just like she had when high school had begun.

They had been friends once, but that seemed like a lifetime ago to Emmalyn now. The second their freshman year had begun, Lydia Martin turned her life into a living hell, making sure that every move she made was social she escalated to Queen Bee status by what ever means necessary, anyone that she'd formally socialized with was left in the dust, years of friendship used as a means to undermine and decimate.

"She's always wanted to be me. Why do you think she lost all of that weight? Don't believe for a second that it was done naturally."

Emmalyn shook the memory from her head, not willing to fall back down that path so easily. She'd always been a bit heavier for her size growing up, and when she and Lydia dreamt about their 'fresh start' at the beginning of freshman year, she had insisted that now was the time to drop the pounds. She created a regimented diet and exercise plan, insuring Emmalyn that it would work, that it was how everyone else did it, but soon a month had passed and there were no results to be seen. Next came the pills and another assurance that it was what everyone did. Lydia was her friend, why would he lie to her? She began to exercise more and more, all the while eating less and less, and by the end of summer break she had lost an unprecedented twenty pounds. The two girls reveled in her success, gathering a whole new wardrobe filled with clothes she wasn't entirely comfortable with wearing. Again Lydia reassured her, promising no one would be able to keep their eyes off of her.

"I mean, do you see what she's wearing? Try hard much?"

The ghost of their mocking laughter rang through her ears, taking her back to the beginning of her downward spiral. No matter where she went she could hear someone whispering about her.

"Did you hear she's bulimic?"

"I heard she's a tweaker."

"I swear she cuts herself."

"She only does it for attention."

Little by little the person who she had been for the last fourteen years of her life began to fade away, crumbling to societal pressures her teenage self confidence was too weak to withstand. She withdrew from her friends, abandoned her extra curriculars, entirely isolated herself. She ignored any and all attempts to reach her. Measure, weigh, exercise, repeat. The taunts and name calling fell on deaf ears so long as she was satisfied with her progress. When she wasn't, she would punish herself. Less eating, more exercising. The near constant rumble of hunger in her gut made her feel empowered in a new world where everything else had slipped from her grasp, the sight of her shrinking frame making her happy in a way she hadn't been since the rumors began. She held on to this new found sense of control with an iron grip, hiding her progress from her father. For the most part he was usually away of business trips, so any change would have been an obvious one no matter how oblivious he was. She would wear her now larger, older clothes when he was home, maintaining the facade of the daughter he thought he still knew. Eventually she got careless, reckless even, pushing herself to go longer periods of time without eating, and with her poor decisions came the one that landed her locked away. Those demons nagged at the back of her mind to this day, but she was bound and determined to recreate some semblance of the life she'd once had, no matter how skewed it had become.

Alright, let me know what you think! I know you sneakies who are subscribing to the story have something to say, so praise, critique, correct...say hello! Let me know how you're feeling about the story thus far and where you're excited to see it go!