YEAR 16

It set in at dinner, so suddenly that at first she didn't register the pain – as if her body was unable to understand the devastation that had wracked it without any warning.

But just a moment later, her body had evidently adjusted.

Harriet let out a scream so loud that she was sure she had torn her vocal chords to shreds. She fell out of her chair when she began convulsing, and she could hear her parents and her little sister rushing to her side. Her vision began to fade in and out and her scream became a garbled, feral cry. When she began vomiting her mother turned her onto her side. Soon the contents of her stomach had been emptied, and all that left her mouth was a vicious green bile that's acidity burned her already abused throat. Her hearing left her around that time, and as the pictures of the scene around her hit her in flashes she was able to make out her parents frantically shouting while the blurry outline of her sister knelt beside her and began to cry.

The familiar sensation of being called to Derek set in, but just as her body began to evaporate into the dark cloud that would transport her to the other side of the country, she solidified once again. Her senses sharpened and she was able to hoarsely croak, "I can't – its not – help, please."

Her dad began to brush his fingers over her sweaty forehead, but after a few seconds his hand went through her when she spontaneously began to transform into her gaseous form.

The process continued; her beginning to smoke and then feeling pulled back to her body before she could travel to presumably protect Derek.

Nora tentatively spoke from beside her, whispering through her tears, "Hattie, you gotta go see Derek."

Harriet knew that her sister was right – Derek must be in agony if it had affected her so severely. But the pain seemed to be anchoring her to the floor of her dining room, not allowing her to focus enough to transport herself. The thought of Derek – of her need to be beside him and helping him – was what finally gave her the strength to focus enough to complete the process and seek him out.

When she appeared at the location Derek must be in, she fell to her knees, exhausted from the pain she had experienced as her body had waged war against itself to alert her of his emotional trauma. She was in the preserve, just behind the tree line of the Hales' front yard. Heat blasted her front, causing her to instinctively close her eyes and raise a hand to shield them from the heat.

Harriet opened her eyes to the sight of the Hale house being devoured by flames.

Horror rose, and she wobbled to her feet as fast as she could. She sprinted toward the police officers that surrounded the scene and the fire fighters who were attempting to quell the flames that were obviously already out of control – their focus was solely on the house, and luckily nobody seemed to have seen her supernatural appearance. Lurching forward, she ran as fast as she could to a figure who appeared pained as he watched the blaze before them, unable to do anything to stop the horrific event taking place.

He whirled around when Harriet grabbed his upper arm tightly and shrieked, "What's happening? Did everyone get out?"

The man placed his hands on her shoulders and attempted to guide her away from the still-burning house, gently but firmly saying, "Miss, you have to get away from there."

Shaking his hands off violently, her panic caused her to begin hyperventilating as she screamed, "No! No, no, no, no, no! Tell me what happened! Please, I know them, you have to tell me!"

She fell to her knees, shuddering powerfully as she continued to beg and scream unintelligibly at the officer.

He crouched down beside her and she was too weak to resist as he guided her so that she was sitting back with her head bowed down between her bent knees.

Harriet knew that he wouldn't tell her anything if she remained in her panicked state so she nearly choked herself in an effort to stabilize her breathing. The outline of the police officer was nearly indistinguishable with the tears coating her eyes and running down her cheeks. Her whisper was near silent, so she knew he must have read her lips when she asked one last time, "Is there anyone in there?"

His expression crumpled and he visibly steeled himself when he lifted his eyes to hers and said softly, "I'm so sorry. No one has been confirmed to be alive apart from Derek and Laura, who weren't present at the time of the fire."

The relief that flooded her upon hearing that Derek wasn't in the house quickly soured and she felt disgusted with herself for the brief moment of relief. Laura and Derek. Laura and Derek were the only two confirmed to be alive. When she asked her next question, she was already trying to prepare herself for the answer.

"How many people are inside?"

"We can't be sure yet, but we have confirmed so far that seven people were inside the house at the start of the fire, and we suspect a few more may possibly be in there as well though it is unconfirmed."

Oh God. That couldn't be right. Most of the family were werewolves, they should have been able to get everybody out. No. God, no. There wasn't – what had –

Something awful, something evil had happened. They should have been able to escape.

Suddenly Harriet remembered the very reason she was here. Derek. She had to find him. Needed to protect him. Using her powers for just a second allowed her to feel his location, and she turned in the direction that pulled her.

Derek and Laura were standing on the driveway and facing the front of the house, about one hundred feet from where she stood. They apparently hadn't heard her frantic cries or sensed her arrival at all. Laura was slumped against her brother, sobbing loudly and occasionally brokenly crying out names of family members, people that Harriet had met before. People who should have been standing beside them.

Derek stood straight, supporting Laura with an arm wrapped around her shoulders tightly. He was attempting to appear comforting –presumably trying to soothe Laura, but Harriet watched his expression crumple into disbelief and agony every few seconds. She realized in that moment that the two Hales must have been feeling the severing of their pack bonds.

After smoking to Derek's location, the pain that had alerted her to his distress and need for the Reaper had vanished, but it may as well have remained.

She had failed.

Nothing she could do would alleviate his suffering.

She couldn't face Derek and Laura. She didn't have the right to grieve alongside them. So she walked back behind the tree line and watched as the Hale house slowly continued to burn.

Laura and Derek were led away by a police deputy soon after, and Harriet, not knowing what to do with herself, simply walked back toward the town, though she knew the walk would be hours long.

Smoke could be seen over the tops of the trees on the Preserve, but Harriet couldn't bear to let her eyes linger on the grisly sight. When she reached the edge of the town, she immediately entered the only place that seemed to be open. It was a small diner, styled to imitate the 1950's, and the large clock on the wall revealed that it was just past midnight.

She sat in the first booth to the right of the door, and noticed that there were only a handful of people still at the diner, most with a computer in front of them and apparently working. Due to having nothing to do other than getting lost in her thoughts while repeating the horror she had seen over and over again, she nearly fell off of the booth when a waitress stopped by her table.

"Would you like to see a menu? We're closing up the grill soon, but if your order quick we can sneak something in."

Harriet looked at the woman, staring through her face, and found herself unable to really focus on what was happening in front of her. However a few moments later she came back to her senses when the waitress's expression turned to one of wary concern and suspicion.

"I don't have any money. Is it alright if I stay here until you close?"

Something on her face must have given her away – she hadn't seen herself since she had first smoked over during her dinner at home with her parents and sister, but she could only imagine how she looked now. Her tears had only just stopped streaming down her face, and now that she thought about it, she might still have vomit on her face or dirt covering her clothing.

"Alright, hun. Let me know if you need anything."

Time passed. Harriet couldn't measure how much. She hadn't looked back to the clock on the wall, only staring down at her folded hands. The cuff on her right wrist – the one that was a sign of her connection to Derek – continued to reflect the harsh fluorescent lighting off of its onyx surface.

God damnit. She had to face reality. At the moment she was useless. And as selfish and awful of a person it made her, she didn't want to hear the details of the fire right now. She was sixteen. Last night she'd been worrying about her upcoming dive meet and having a bisexual identity crisis.

She couldn't deal with this. With the hard truth that it was her fault. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Just because she had been a self conscious little bitch who was stung by Derek's lack of interest in maintaining a friendship didn't mean she should have just abandoned him for the last few years.

Harriet would allow him to grieve. Keep her distance for a little while.

But now? Now she was done. Harriet could no longer maintain her stupid, fake little life with her ditzy friends and high school drama. She was a supernatural creature, and waltzing around trying to play human for her parents' sake had caused her to try to ignore that part of the world.

It was time to do the opposite.

She would find every creature she could. Witches, vampires, psychics – she had no idea what was out there, and she had waited years too long to try to find out.

Harriet was done with high school, done with the Connecticut suburbs and trying to get recruited for the state college.

Harriet Rathbone, the peppy little high school junior, was dead as of now.

In her place was Hattie, the Reaper sworn to the last son of the Hale pack.