I want to thank anyone who even read this

It makes me really happy when I see I have a new follower, favourite or review

I think after this chapter it will go to third person because it's the only way this story will work

ALSO if you haven't give a listen to Fear and Loathing – Marina and the Diamonds because that song fits this story to a T.

Chapter 3

Official Return

The trees shake in the wind and release many auburn leaves as my mom's car slowly moves around the parking lot. She curses under her breath when she barely fits into the tiny space that was left but stops the car looking defeated. After struggling to get out of the car, we both make our way to the building. I try to avoid the obvious stare of other students as I run up the steps just outside the door and enter the school, finally allowing my head to raise and stare back at the people exchanging glances and whispering as they continue to eye me suspiciously. They weren't furious like the news reporters and other citizens were; instead they silenced themselves as if they didn't want to be heard by a single soul around them. Teenagers had always been worse than adults and even young children to me, but I guess I had hoped that they may have the decency to take their anger or honest thoughts out on me. But instead they jump at the sight of me and cover their lips as they speak quietly into their friends' ears. Despite that, it still brought some sense of relief to know I was and would be around people my age for some time, it didn't matter that they thought I was a monstrous murderer, in a small part of deep down.

Without warning, I'm pushed to the side and am suddenly being walked all the way down the hall by my obsessive mother. "Forget about them," The anger in her voice comes out. I sigh and pull my body from grasp, making her slow down once we are outside the doors of the school office. She had to have some kind of tour around here before I arrived because she didn't once look up at the lack of signs with arrows telling everyone where to go.

"Mom, it is fine," I lie, "It's not like I expected them to like me." It was, though, a pretty awful feeling in my chest, in the bottom of my stomach. It's the type of thing that makes my legs go numb enough so I'm not really sure they are there any more. It makes me feel so upset that I could cry and so annoyed that I could hit someone. But if anyone would get more annoyed at it than I was, it was my mom. She's always been protective of me, just like any other mother.

My mom nods but still gives off a vibe of anger as she pushes the door and walks in. The office is just like how I imagined it to be – big closed off desk in the centre, multiple computers and files occupying the space on it, seats filled by students holding bags of ice to their bodies as they waited to go home and of course, a bored looking woman spinning in a chair just waiting for the opportunity to be helpful.

I glance at the seats to see two injured students with sports gear that looks extremely uncomfortable and a dark haired guy that looks green enough to collapse. I guess they were too pre-occupied at the moment to acknowledge the insane new girl walking through. I manage to smile a little before stepping to my mom's side.

Papers are spread out in front of her and she scribbles her signature down at the speed of the hare before handing me the pen. "Sign every page on the second line at the bottom." The woman behind the desk speaks with no emotion and starts doodling on sticky-notes, probably trying to act as if she was doing something important.

I feel a pit in my stomach as my eyes drool over the perfection of my mom's signature, trying to think of what to do. I never really stuck to a signature because it never came up for anything other than collecting packages when I was home alone, and I guess I never really thought to practise.

Rolling my lower lip inside my mouth, I simply write my full name in handwriting on every line and look up, expecting more.

"What now?" I ask a question for anyone to answer, really.

"Here's your schedule," The lady hands me a sheet with multiple class names and teachers written on it, "Have fun. Try not to drag too much attention to yourself." She winks knowingly. How was it that I somehow believed that maybe someone didn't know who I was? Dumb thought because of course, she knew exactly who I was; she didn't even need my name for it.

I keep my eyes on the page as my mom and I walk out of the office. She stops me at the door and smiles purely, "Are you sure you're ready for this? I can still take you home and get an arrangement sorted out."

"No," I shake my head, "The faster things go back to normal, the better."

She nods once and waves goodbye before walking out of the building.

"Liar," I whisper, directed at myself. Honestly, what the chance I have of getting things back to normal is one in a million, and judging by the hateful stares I'm getting from the students around me, my chances could be ever lower than that. I thought things were bad before, the sight of smudged nail polish made me feel like the world was ending. Never before has I even imagined things could get so bad.

After forcing my throat to clear, I stare at my new schedule, eyeing the new classes and the period times. Seven periods, each lasting an hour, the first one beginning at 9AM. I glance down to my watch and sigh when I read that already I'm five minutes late. Hopefully my Physics teacher will understand with me being new and all.

As I make my ways around the halls, desperately searching for a door with Physics written on a plaque, I avoid making any form of contact at all with anybody. I reach the top stair on the last staircase I could see I peer down the hall to see an empty corridor, the only thing making the dull hall even slightly bright being the painting at the very end of a lighthouse during a storm.

I look around me in hopes of seeing someone else who was over ten minutes last to their first ever high school class, but the last door had closed a while ago and the entire floor was as a dead silence. Exhaling deeply, I walk down the hall quickly and to the right so I was near the doors. The first three were Biology then came my destination. I guess I had hope the teacher wouldn't be there but the tall dark haired woman was standing proudly, talking to the class.

Drawing in a breath, I push the door open and watch as everyone stops what they're doing to look at the late girl. After thinking, I hesitantly walk forward until I'm standing directly in front of the class. I take a peek at the schedule given to me to read the name – . I turn my head once I hear obvious whispering return. There it was again. The feeling that both rose my temper and made me curl up into a ball on the inside.

"You are?" walks a few steps, crossing her arms are lifting her chin slightly.

I look back at her and cough, "Kenna. Strider." I pause, "Kenna Strider." A subtle gasp sounds in the classroom, probably of the people who only know my name and not the face that goes with it.

nods and drops her arms to her side, the realisation also hitting her, "Well, Kenna Strider, it's not very smart of you to be late on your first day. You've missed school education for four years; you have a lot to catch up on."

I slowly nod. The only learning I did while in the institution was by my therapist, every subject had to be learned in the space of eight hours for two days a week.

"You should know there's no chance of bad behaviour in my class. You're in alphabetical order, depending on your surname so go find your name on the register." points to the page pinned on the border of the chalkboard behind her before going back to her lesson. I walk towards the sheet, using my finger to guide my eyes down the names until I find Strider, Kenna and above it Stilinski, Stiles.

Although I didn't know who it was, I was already frightened of so instead I turn around and try to look for Stiles by imagining what somebody with the second name of Stilinski and the first of Stiles would look like. Nerves took over me as I searched for someone with green eyes and light brown hair until a hand raises and waves at me, a smile growing on the boy's face when I see him. I make my way to the back row and sit in the seat next to him.

"Hi," He smiles at me, "I'm Stiles." My eyebrows lower as I try to figure out why he'd actually be talking to me instead of staring and whispering like most people in the room.

I clear my throat, "Your name is… Stiles?"

"Not my real name but I made sure that was the one that went up on the board." He sighs and re-positions himself so he is watching again.

I mentally punch myself. Already I've managed to turn away the only person who may actually be willing to have a conversation with me.

The whole class is filled with things I already knew about, so I took the hour to let my mind wander. The people around me had stopped making fun by the time the class was half-over, but by the time the bell rang, I could hear my name being spoken many more times that I want to say.

As I'm about to leave, stops me. "Have you signed up for extra credit?"

"I don't really need it," I have trouble with my words but eventually get it, "I was taught what you're teaching when I was fifteen."

A smile emerges on her face, "That's good. You'll be sitting an exam on Thursday on everything we've learned so far this year."

My face drops. All I'm really sure I know is the stuff she was teaching today, but what if she talked about something I had not gone over or learned well enough is on this exam?

"But don't worry," She shook her head, "You learned it all when you were fifteen anyway."

As soon as Stiles steps into the cafeteria for lunch, Scott jumps in front of him, immediately looking at him as if he were insane. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Stiles recovers from his state of shock with a look of confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"Talking to a mass murderer?" Scott gives him a look to let him know how serious he was being.

Stiles clicks his tongue and bobs his head, "That…"

"Yeah, that. Stiles she killed five innocent people." Scott still didn't like saying it. The whole thought of murder made him shake.

"I know but, she didn't." Stiles begins to try to explain.

Scott immediately interrupts him, "Yeah, she did."

"No, she didn't."

"Are you serious?" Scott glares at Stiles, not sure whether or not his friend was joking.

"Very. Look if this was us talking three years ago, I'd agree with you, but since we're not and we've got all jumbled up in the supernatural beings stuff, I have to strongly disagree."

Scott looks at him with wide eyes, shaking his head in disbelief, "Stiles," He speaks slowly and clearly, "Kenna Strider is a cold-blooded murderer. She tore up her five best friends and now she's been released for whatever reason." He finishes by stomping his foot on the ground once.

Stiles tenses up at how stupid his friend was being and clutches his hands so Scott knows he's getting annoyed at him, "Oh my God, you are such an idiot! I can't believe you aren't catching on to this!"

Scott eyes his friend with a confused expression. "Haven't you read a newspaper article? Watched the news? Even been alive, Scott, have you been alive?" Stiles questions, not fully understanding how oblivious someone has to be to not catch on to what he's basically throwing in front of his face.

"Where's this going?" Scott's look of disbelief slowly fades and he crosses arms as he waits for Stiles to explain why he felt the need to make him feel stupid.

Stiles breathes in and makes himself calm before going further, "The cold-blooded murderer swears she saw a werewolf tear up her friends."

Scott's lips part as if he was about to say something but there were so many things to say that he just couldn't do anything but think. "Werewolf?" He repeats, still unsure.

"Yes, Scott, werewolf." Stiles nods.

"She said a werewolf attacked her friends?"

Stiles shrugs, "Mutilated, actually." When nothing else comes out of Scott, he sighs and pulls his bag forward, unzipping from the top and pulling out a file. "This is all the police station had on the case." He informs a still shaken Scott and opens the file.

Clearing his throat, Stiles begins to read, "One second they were all laughing around the fire and the next the whole four of them were just gone. Cole and I were the only ones there to hear that thing running around us at the speed of lightning. He told me to run, so that's what I did. I didn't want to but if I could call the police and get help, I wasn't gonna just stand there and wait to get taken. But then I stopped, and turned around and I saw it. The venom dripping from the fangs, the blood-red eyes, I saw it and I froze. That's when it turned back to human. It was a werewolf. I swear to God, I didn't do it."

"That was her statement?" Scott had finally looked up, and was now reading on over Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles nods and turns the page to a newspaper article. "This is the last article that was released on this case," He explains, "but it wasn't the last written."

"Didn't the murders stop when Kenna was put into custody?"

"They did, for a month. Then they started happening again all around the preserve. Every single one the same: only one witness left behind. My guess is whoever did it had to leave time to figure out who to go after next because before, the witnesses were killed along with five others before they had the time to tell anyone, but since Kenna told the police straight away, it was decided it was an act so she wouldn't get accused because they kept her in custody for a while and all the killings just stopped." Stiles flips up the article to reveal another one with the next group of murdered people written about.

Scott lets out a breath that had been caught in his throat, "But if the murders didn't actually stop then why was Kenna put into an asylum?"

"I don't actually know… But this is enough, right? To prove her innocence?" Stiles closes the file and puts it back in his bag, feeling satisfied that he'd be able to convince an entire jury of Kenna's false admission to the institute. But Scott stands back in front of him, shaking his head.

"No," He disagrees, making Stiles groan, "There's still the possibility that she did do it, right?"

Stiles scrunches his face up, irritated that he was still being doubted. "I guess. But we'll never know unless we get to know her." Stiles smiles and makes his way to the table he and Scott's friends were sitting.

Okay so a quick recap in case I confused you:

Stiles researches Kenna's case (because he's a Stiles) and finds evidence that could be used to prove her innocence so he tells Scott who doesn't believe him until he whips out a stolen police file. You also find out that Kenna lived through the attack because the werewolf that killed her friends had a pattern of leaving one witness and killing them in the next set of victims. But because she was put into the institute and surrounded by walls for four years, he could never kill her so he just continued what he was doing. BUT the news of the murders going on was never announced to the public, so Kenna got the blame for it.

I know this is moving too fast but I really just can't slow it down because if I did, this whole chapter would be filled with Kenna's first day in school and I don't want to bore you by repeating about how hard it was for her seven times.