I remember being led into the living room by my Mom, my feet shuffling along like a zombie. My eyes fell straight to a hoodie that had been left on the couch – Isaac's hoodie. That's all it took for me to crumble. For tears to flood my vision and make all the pressure that had been building up on my shoulders come crashing down. I remember dropping to the floor, choking as the sobs reached my throat and my Mother's hand on my back, trying to calm me down. I remember my knees scraping across the carpet as I clambered over to Isaac's hoodie. I pulled it to my chest and held it there, allowing myself this moment to be weak in. It smelt like him.
"Shhh… Shhh… It's okay, it's going to be okay," Mom knelt next to me and hugged me close. I needed to let go of being strong and capable for a while – I needed help. I needed to feel safe. So I let Mom hold me and wipe my face and stroke my hair. My thoughts went blank as I just sat there and felt everything I had been pushing down. All my fears about the werewolves and Isaac and the Argents flooded out through my tears. I had been through a pretty traumatic few weeks, I was allowed to feel like this.

When I eventually stopped crying, I sniffled and wiped my eyes. My mind came back around to the present, where both my parents sat on the floor next to me, watching with careful, sorrowful eyes. It was slightly embarrassing, but I could tell in their faces that they were far from judging. On the drive here, I was ready for a fight about the things they have been keeping from me, but now I felt washed out and tired. I just want peace. I unfolded Isaac's hoodie out of my clenched, red hands and drew it over my head like a protective shield. Pulling down the sleeves over my hands, I sighed deeply and swept the hair out of my face. This was it.

"Mom… Dad… I need to ask you something important," I hesitated and took a shaky, sniffling breath as I stared at their expectant faces.

"Can you… Will you explain to me who- who Cassie is?"

…

I perched at the breakfast bar in the kitchen with a number of old photographs stretched out in front of me. Mom had to hurry to work now that I had calmed down – she was already late from waiting for me to get home. However, Dad had stayed home with me. My story was that a nurse mentioned her to me at the hospital last night and that is why I freaked out and asked for the car keys to go for a drive out to the woods. I needed to clear my head after Isaac and everything. I lied, said that I fell whilst walking and hit my head really hard and decided to sleep in the car for safety instead of driving home. He sat extremely still opposite me, with his fingers touching under his chin. He wouldn't meet my eye, instead stared at the dated photographs with extreme sadness. I took that as him believing my tale, although I hardly think that he listened to a word I said.

When I found my voice again, I whispered, "I'm sorry if I've opened up an old wound, Dad." My hands clenched like fists in my lap.
He shook his head, "It's my fault for keeping you in the dark. I should have shown you these earlier…"

I reached out slowly and pulled one of the photographs towards me more, taking in the scene. Two young teenagers sat on a picnic blanket, sunning themselves in their back garden. The older of the two was a rugged looking boy, with dark hair and a smirk on his face. My Dad looked darker, more youthful and had a playful glint in his eye that I only ever see on the rare days that he isn't tired from work. His sister sat cross legged next to him, cupping a drink with chipped nail varnish on her fingernails. I focused more intently on the girl. She had long brown hair that curled at the bottoms, almost reaching her waist. Her eyes were a fierce green, just like mine, and in the picture, she was rolling her eyes at my Dad. I traced her face shape lightly with one finger before stretching out my other hand and following the same line on my own face. If I had longer, darker hair, we could be mistaken for each other. The realisation set a lump in my throat. I had a feeling the similarities between Cassie and I don't just end at physical appearance.

"So, you never found out how she died?" I asked, flicking my eyes to another photograph of a black and white portrait of the girl. She was a little older in this one – it looked like a Senior yearbook photo. Her teeth showed in her grin as she threw her hair back at the camera.
Dad let out a sigh, "No." One glance at him told me that he was trying hard to keep his voice from breaking. "She went missing and… well a few days later…"
I didn't push him to finish, but he did.
"Animal attack, they said."

I bit my tongue in surprise.

"What did you say?"

Dad turned one of the photographs to face him as he spoke, "I know, I can't imagine-" he stopped, swallowed, then continued with a more detached, professional voice, "The coroner found claw marks all over her body. Said she'd only been dead a few hours when they found her. But where she was the few days beforehand, I guess we'll never know."
As he spoke, a cold chill trickled from my head all the way down to my feet. I bet I know exactly what type of animal it was.
Dad eventually raised his gaze to meet mine and gave me a smile, "But there was also life that day – because that was when you were born. I lost my sister and gained a daughter. Could have been worse."
As I scanned the photographs again, I searched for something, someone, in particular and it didn't take too long to find.

This one must have been one of the last photos taken before Cassie died. She looked more mature – I would guess early twenties – and rather quite drained. She stood with a teacher and a High School class outside a familiar building – my school. One of the students caught my eye in particular – a good 16 years (ish) younger, but I would recognize Peter Hale's sly smile anywhere. In the photo, he was stood next to Cassie, but her expression told me that she would rather be a mile away from him. I don't blame her.
Dad caught me looking and explained. "When Cass graduated, she got into a training course to be a teacher. This was about a year before she died. She helped out with some of the classes at Beacon Hills"
"How old was she?"
"Twenty. I was twenty-four, studying medicine and struggling to make ends meet in a flat with a pregnant fiancé. I got so wrapped up in my own life and my own problems that I hardly had time to see my sister…" Dad rubbed his eyes wearily, full of regret.
"When did you notice her getting ill?" I asked, glancing at the photographs in chronological order and noticing the girls' expression becoming less and less full of life. I compared the garden photo with my Dad to the one with Peter Hale.
Dad sits up straight and blinks at me, "I never told you-"
"It's obvious on her face. She also gets thinner and more worn out. These bags under her eyes here, she was clearly anxious about some-" I stopped dead in my sentence.

Anxious.

Just like me.

Puzzle pieces starting slotting together in my mind. I realised why my parents kept this from me. They were trying to stop history repeating itself. If Cassie has the same trouble with anxiety as I have…

"Dad… Did Cassie ever draw? Was she a good artist?" I heard myself say it like I had cotton wool in my ears.
Dad nodded sadly once. "Yeah… That was… That was actually part of her… illness. The months leading up to her disappearance, she became fixated on her art. It was like…" He ran his fingers through his hair and a stress line appeared between his eyes, "Like the scenes in her pictures and reality started blurring for her. On the few times that I saw her in the months leading up to her death, she would try to convince me that the things she drew were… warnings of some kind. I told her that they were just scenes from her imagination, but no matter how much sense I spoke, she wouldn't listen. I tried to get her professional help from a doctor, but that just made her more distant from me. I was going through a rough time myself and… oh god, I wish I had been able to just sit and listen to her properly. Not a day goes by where I don't regret how selfish I was back then. If I had listened and believed her, she might not have gone missing and- and-"

I reached out and grabbed my Dad's hand. "Nothing," I put all my remaining strength into my words, "Nothing you could have done would have saved her. It wasn't your fault."
He smiled and his green eyes crinkled, "Thanks, Em." Dad put his free hand over mine and his expression faltered, "You really do remind me of her. So much. The way you care so deeply about everything and everyone you love. She fought hard for her friends too. One friend in particular actually… I heard he almost died in a fire years ago and became paralysed, so I'm kind of glad Cassie wasn't around to go through that."
I knew the answer but I asked anyway, despite feeling like I was going to overheat, "What was his name?"
"Peter, I think. Yeah, he was one of the Hale's. You know that horrible house fire that happened 6 years ago? Tragic incident…"
I breathed out slowly, telling myself not to freak out in front of my Dad. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
That's why he mentioned her when he found out my name at the graveyard. Peter Hale has information that he isn't letting on.

Dad wiped his brow and let go of my hands. I clenched them tightly in an effort to distract me from the memory of last night.
"I'm sorry for not telling you this sooner, Emily. I should have trusted you with this a long time ago… I just didn't want you to worry… Because of your struggles with anxiety in the past and the way you love your art – I didn't want you to think that the similarities between you and Cassie would mean that you will end up like her."
You mean crazily drawing foreboding warnings for werewolves? Oh yeah, I'm nothing like her at all.
"It's okay, Dad," was all I managed to whisper out, "I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere."

…

I rang Stiles and Scott to let them both know that I was okay. I told them that I properly freaked out after seeing Peter that I drove home straight away. Turns out, Scott was okay and managed to get away from Allison without being caught. Stiles had a few bruises from being knocked out after the strange explosion that Peter and I had caused, and was more pissed that I'd left him on his own to worry about where I had gone.
"I'll forgive you though, I'm glad you're safe. There are bigger things to worry about," Stiles sighed over the phone to me. I had never heard him sound so disheartened. He was usually optimistic, almost annoyingly so.
"It's Derek…" Stiles started to say.
"Is he hurt? What about Kate?" I hurriedly asked, clenching my cell phone.
"We… we don't know."
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"As in… Derek's missing. After Scott and I found each other again, we searched all night for the both of you. We couldn't find Kate either. I mean, we know now that you're okay, but we've heard nothing from Derek. He's not at home, he's just… gone."
"Kate has to have something to do with this, I'm sure of it," I say, remembering my dislike for the woman.
"I hope not… I could do with one less werewolf to worry about!"
"Tell me about it…"
"You gonna be in school tomorrow?" Stiles asked me, sounding more like his chirpy self, "We can do a plan of action about how to find Mr. Sour Wolf."
"No… No, I'm going to stay home for a while. I really need a time out from everything and I'm pretty sure I have concussion from last night's graveyard debacle. I'm sorry, Stiles, I can't help with this right now. But if I see anything or draw anything to help you find Derek, I'll let you know straight away, I promise."
"Oh, okay, sure… Yeah, just get better soon okay?"
"Will do. See you, Stiles."

I hung up and scrolled down my contact list to one particular name. My eyes screwed up tight as I resisted the urge to call Isaac. It's for his own safety. It's for my own safety. Don't do it, Emily. Isaac is fine, and he will stay fine as long as you don't call him. Don't call him. Don't.

…

My parents kept me at home for the rest of the week, and the whole week after that. They were worried about my head injuries and I was more than happy to not have to go out and socialise for a while. The stressful few weeks caught up with me, so I was glad to stay at home. I spent my time snuggled under a blanket, watching films all day and trying to rid my mind of the nightmares that always involved somehow Mr Lahey, Peter Hale and numerous claustrophobic rooms. Dad picked up some homework from school for me and explained my situation to them, so I was able on top of my workload as well. I decided to quit my job. It was one more thing to worry about and I had called in sick a good number of times recently. For now, I needed to keep things simple.
I heard nothing about Derek from anyone – it really seemed like he'd just vanished. Things were quiet. Almost suspiciously so. I had to force myself to not go out in search of Peter and find out the answers that I was curious to know. It would only make things worse, and I would end up getting injured again. Recovery first, then I'll find him and get the whole story about Cassie.
Jane came over a few times to hang out and have dinner with me after she'd been at school. She was amazing, having dealt with a few of my anxious, reclusive phases when I was younger, and kept me occupied with mindless gossip about school. It was great to get back to being close with her. Even so, I couldn't share with her the nightmares that I had been through.

Normal. No werewolves. No Isaac.

…

I eventually returned to school the next Monday, picking up Jane on the way. Winter had truly sprung up while I had been at home, as a layer of snow now covered the ground. Jane made me blast the heating until she started to complain that it would make her hair frizzy. I parked up and drank my coffee out of a flask, remembering the days when this used to be my life. We met up with Summer, who detached herself from her lacrosse playing boyfriend, and walked with us to the lockers.

"Did anyone tell you about Chem?" Summer asked, playfully ruffling her hair and leaning against a locker.
I had my arms hugged to myself, and at the mention of the subject, I dug my fingernails into my arms. I hadn't forgotten that Isaac and I were supposed to be partners.
"What about it?" I replied, telling myself that I was okay. Everything is back to normal. Everything is fine.
"Oh, we've swapped partners. You're with me now, hun! Harris called me and Hank in. Because you and Isaac have both been off a lot, you need to be partnered with someone who actually knows what's going on. So yeah we did a bit of a switch. How great is that!"
"…Yeah, great."
Wait, Isaac has been off a lot too? It must have just taken a while for him to recover from being in the hospital…
"Don't worry, I've pretty much done all of the work. I literally need you to draw some pretty diagrams and make it all artsy fartsy, like you're good at. And we're done. Sound good?"
"Yeah, thanks." I attempted a smile.

A strange buzzing in my ears caused a shock of alertness run through my body. I whipped my head around like I was trying to look for a fly, but saw nothing.
Jane narrowed her eyes, "Are you okay?"
Nodding, I twisted around again, just checking that I hadn't imagined the noise. "Can you guys hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Like…" I realised that the noise sounded similar to the electricity taser that Kate usually carried. Maybe the sound isn't happening right now. Or maybe it is, but not here, in school. Who knows how my ability works anymore… I imagined Derek Hale tied up on a metal railing and screaming from Kate's weapon scratching his chest, but in a blink, pushed it out of my mind, not wanting to see more of him in pain. "Never mind. It's nothing."

I was making a mental note to look more into my idea that Kate had Derek trapped when my eyes caught something at the end of the corridor that made my heart stop. My whole body stiffened as if someone had set me in cement.
"Em, let's get to class," Summer said, nonchalantly before turning to actually look at me, "Woah… You okay?"
"She'll see you at class, Summer," Jane quickly intervened, waving Summer away.
I couldn't move. My eyes were wide on my face.
"Emily. Emily. It's Jane. Are you okay?"
I could hear her voice, but nothing was registering. My heart was skipping at double speed.
"Emily. You're having a panic attack. I'm going to take your pulse, okay?"
It wasn't until Jane touched her fingers to my wrist that I realised that I had been hitching my breathing through my mouth. I staggered backwards, and would have fallen were it not for someone else grabbing my shoulders from behind.
"Lydia. Help me sit her down," Jane commanded.
But Jane doesn't really like Lydia, I thought to myself through the jumbled mess in my mind.
I felt two pairs of arms on either side of me, lowering me to the ground with my back against the lockers.

The three people at the end of the corridor began to walk towards us away from the Principal's office where they had come from, completely oblivious to my panicked state. No. Go away. Go away. Leave. Don't notice me. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from them.

Jane started to take my pulse again. She was speaking to me and trying to get through. But all I could think was of the cold, dark, confined space that haunted my sleep. A flash of a memory hit me. My fingers tracing the scratches in the lid of the freezer.

And then I stopped breathing all together.

Principal Green, Mr Lahey and Isaac were almost next to us in the corridor. It was quite busy, so there was a small percentage of a chance that they would walk by without even glancing in my direction.
However, with my luck, of course they noticed.
"Sir! Sir! Please? Emily's having a panic attack. She needs help!" Jane called to our Principal, holding onto my wrist with an iron grip, as if her touch was the only thing keeping me in the present. It was, to be fair.

I heard a serious of exchanges as the world span.
Principal Green: Please don't hesitate to come in again and talk with me anytime, sir. If you'll excuse me…
Mr Lahey: Of course, you've been more than helpful. I'll leave you to… deal with this. Come, Isaac.
Isaac: …
Principal: Lydia, run and get the nurse, quickly!
Lydia: Sure. Hang on, Em.
Isaac: ….
Jane: She just started freaking out. We need to remove her from whatever situation is making her panic.
Mr Lahey: Isaac! I said, come along.
Isaac: …
Isaac: Wait.

I gulped in a huge breath with difficulty. It felt like my lungs had been shrunk to a quarter of their size. Shaking my head frantically, I waved my free hand at him to leave. Get out of here, Isaac. Leave me. Don't do this.

"What did you just say to me?" Mr Lahey's voice rang out in the bustle of the corridor. His voice made me feel like my insides were being scratched at with claws.

In all my disarray, I found Isaac's blue eyes. The dilemma that I could see waging behind them was probably mirrored in my own. He wanted to help me so badly, it was showing in his twitching hands. Me being in pain was the last thing Isaac wanted, yet here I was, right in front of him, gasping for breath. He couldn't do anything with his Dad there, though. If he even stepped towards me, held my hand, spoke to me, pushed my hair back, kissed me, told me it was going to be okay… any of those things would come back to haunt us. And I did not want either of us ending up in that freezer.

I tore myself away from his eyes and shook my head.
"Go," I managed to gasp, before turning to look into Jane's eyes. I forced myself to ignore my surroundings and listen to her words. I pretended that his Dad wasn't there. The person who haunted my nightmares wasn't at school. He wasn't here. I imagined Isaac knelt next to me. He would have one hand over mine, stroking his thumb over my fingers. His breath would tickle my neck. I would calm down and when I looked at him, he would smile shyly and then raise his eyebrows at me like he wasn't sure what to say. He would make me laugh and pull me to my feet. He'd kiss my forehead and double check that I was fine.

Lydia got back with the nurse who took over Jane's job of trying to speak to me, but by this time, I was already on route to having normal breathing again. I had managed to slow my pulse down during my make believe scene. In reality, Isaac and his Dad were now nowhere to be seen. He made the right choice. Jane dug some tablets out of my bag and Lydia passed me some water. Exhausted, I leant my head back on the lockers and focused on breathing deeply and slowly through my nose. I lifted a weary hand and gave them a thumbs up to signal that I was okay. It was passing.

This has to be my life now.

Normal. Less werewolves. No Isaac.

Or I'm going to end up in the freezer again.

Or worse, clawed to death in the forest, just like Cassie.

A.N.
Hello! Bit of a slower chapter than the last ones. Thank you to everyone who is still here reading this (: I know my updates are at really random times, but I'm still here writing, don't worry.
Shout out to C'estMoiLiz for submitting the sweetest review, thanks! And to everyone who is following/has favourited this , you're brill.
xox