I sat there for a bit, I wasn't sure how long, eyes closed, just breathing. Just to remind myself that I could. I could breathe. Sometimes I forgot that despite how empty and lifeless I felt, I was still alive, living and breathing, and that was more than some people could say. I'm not sure how long it was, but when I no longer felt the warmth of the sun on my face and my body grew colder, I heaved myself off of the porch, spinning in a circle until I decided which direction I thought led to the exit.
As you might have guessed with my previous experiences, directions were not my forte. Don't get me wrong, I could always get to where I needed to be. It just might end up taking me an extra hour or four. After picking a direction, I began trekking through the woods, which seemed much vaster than they did on the way here. How had I even gotten here in a matter of minutes, without getting lost once? Then again, I barely remembered the walk to the Hale House. It was almost as if I was sleepwalking. Awake but not aware.
The sun seemed to disappear all at once, clouds rolling in casting a gray shadow everywhere. Why hadn't I put on a thicker jacket? Or worn pants? Or something? I crossed my arms across my chest, holding myself in an attempt to keep my body heat from escaping.
"Run, run, run, run, run," I let out a gasp, my head whipping behind me at the sound. It was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, like maybe I had heard it in a dream. I took a deep breath, letting it out with a shake of my head. I was just tired and hearing things. It's not like this was a first. I continued walking, jumping at every gust of wind and crack of branches I came across. It was a few minutes before I heard it again, like a chanting, getting louder the more I walked.
Every time I stopped, so did the sounds. I licked my lips, my eyes falling shut as I willed myself to remain calm. I was just having another episode, and everything would be okay so long as I could get myself home.
"Run devil, run." The wind hissed at me, and I stumbled backwards, tripping over a tree stump and landing on my side. I turned over onto my stomach, as I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. I stayed like that, frozen, staring at the figure a few yards away from me, half hidden by the tree. But that was a face I'd never forget.
Avery?
I thought I had spoken it out loud, but my voice seemed to have forgotten how to work. I quickly pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the clumps of dead leaves clinging to my legs and arms. I closed my eyes, telling myself it wasn't real. But when I opened them she was still there, staring at me blankly. That was when I noticed it.
It couldn't have been a hallucination. Because her chocolate brown hair, the hair that was so much like her sister's, was now sloppily dyed blonde, her dark roots evident even from a distance.
"Ava?" I choked out, squinting at her. I stood there, debating whether I should approach her, or take off. Running away from things had always been my solution, but this was just proof that sometimes things caught up to you, whether you wanted them to or not. No, I couldn't run away anymore. I took a few steps towards her and she mirrored me her figure appearing and disappearing behind the trees separating us.
"I said run." It was her voice, but her mouth stayed silent, her lips pressed together tightly. She moved behind another tree and she was gone. I walked around it about three times, before giving up, letting myself slump down against the trees, cold tears running down my cheek. My breath came out slow and shaky, visible in the cold. I pretended I was a dragon, inhaling deeply and blowing it out, as both a means of distracting myself and calming myself down. Two birds with one stone. If only I was a dragon, strong and powerful. Instead of the fragile and scared bird I felt like.
After I was sufficiently chilled to the bone, I pushed myself up with a false sense of vigor. The pain and numbness I was feeling made me feel a little better, like an old friend. The only old friend I had. I made my way slowly and carefully through the forest, hypersensitive to any and every sound I heard along the way. About ten minutes later, I found the van. The Beacon County Sheriff Prison Transport van. I halted, narrowing my eyes at the monstrosity parked in the middle of the woods before rolling my eyes.
"Oh they've got to be kidding me." I mumbled, walking around the van to where Allison stood frantically talking to Stiles, who seemed to pale by the minute.
"They know!"
"What?!"
"They know Jackson's missing!" she exclaimed, arms extending in front of her.
"Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did." I said, coming up behind them.
"OH MY-Does no one in this town have audible footsteps?!" Stiles screamed, his eyes focusing on my face as Allison let out a yelp of surprise. "Oh, yeah, see, not so fun when it's you is it?" He shot Allison a pointed look and she rolled her eyes, one hand over her heart.
"Whatever just…please tell me you did not steal a prison transport van." I enunciated each word, punctuating with my hand.
"Well…I mean…I wouldn't say we stole it. It's more of borrowed…"
"Right, so your dad knows about this?" I gestured to the van Stiles was currently leaning against with a cock of my eyebrow and he scrunched up his nose, looking upwards.
"Not…technically."
"STILES."
"I did say it involved breaking the law, what did you think I had in mind, speeding around town with him chained to my backseat?!"
"Guys, focus!" Allison urged, stepping in between us. "My grandfather told me his parents went to the police. They know." Allison's werewolf hunting grandfather. Right. None of this sounded good. Stiles glanced down at the phone in his hands, making a choked gasp, before holding it out in front of him as if it was on fire.
"Ohhhh," he whined, bouncing up and down. He dropped the phone to the ground, throwing open the van door and picking up the police radio receiver.
"All available units proceed to Beacon Hills Preserve as instructed. Proceed with caution until Sheriff Stilinski's arrival. Repeat, proceed with caution." Stiles turned to us horror-stricken, shoving the receiver back into the dashboard and climbing in the van.
"Come on, get in!" he urged, as I climbed in, Allison scrambling in behind me. He began dialing, the phone on speaker as we strapped ourselves in.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere very far from this." He replied, dropping the phone out the window and putting the car into drive. He drove along a cleared section of the Preserve, maneuvering skillfully through the few trees spotting the area. He pulled the van up along the side of a steep cliff, parking it and digging through the console for his cell phone.
"Texting Scott?" Allison asked, unlocking the door and hopping out.
"Yeah, hopefully he has some good news for us." I stayed in the van for a minute, staring at my hands. A stunning sense of numbness had come over me and it took me a minute before I noticed my phone vibrating relentlessly in my pocket. I dug it out without looking at the caller ID, bringing the receiver to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Ryan? Oh thank god, it's about time someone answered me. Are you busy?" Lydia's exhaled, relief coloring her voice.
"Um…kind of..." I glanced out of the van window to where Allison and Stiles stood, conversing in low voices.
"Well can you make yourself available?" Her voice flooded with desperation, and I felt my expression grow serious on instinct.
"Yeah, of course. Did something happen? Are you okay?" I hopped out of the van in a slight panic, s scales and sharp teeth danced across my mind. My cardigan started a slow descent off of my shoulder and the cool air on my bare arm made me shiver.
"I'm just…I need to talk to somebody." She sniffled, and I let myself relax a little bit. At least she wasn't in any immediate danger. I sighed, relief flooding my body as I pulled up my cardigan, making my way over to Allison and Stiles. "If it's that much of an inconvenience for you though…" She trailed off bitterly, misinterpreting my sigh.
"No, no!" I let the words fall out of my mouth in a hurry, letting myself fall forward so my forehead pressed against the van with a quiet thud. "It's just that…I'm glad you trust me." I shook my head, mentally scolding myself for being so incompetent with people.
"Oh." She paused and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, wishing I could somehow go into the past and reclaim the brilliant social skills I once had. "Just hurry."
"On my way." I hit the end call button, stuffing the small device into my pocket as Stiles and Allison stared at my expectantly. "Lydia." I answered in response, and Allison gave a small nod as Stiles's eyes widened a bit.
"Oh-oh my god, Lydia. She's still pissed about me ditching her." He pressed a hand to his forehead, throwing his head back.
"Don't worry. She's pissed at everyone for ditching her." I meant it as a general statement, but Allison shot me a pointed look, setting her jaw. "Anyway, she asked me to come over, so I better get going. She sounded pretty freaked." I pursed my lips, awkwardly toeing the ground with my boot.
"Could you like, tell her I'm super sorry, and-and that I'll see her soon, and-and then we can talk all she wants?" Stiles stuttered, his face a canvas of eagerness tinged with hope and desperation. I rolled my eyes but nodded.
"I'll see what I can do. But I'm not a miracle worker Stilinski." I followed the cliff to the edge of the Preserve, and then followed the edge to the exit, tirelessly chewing and picking at my lip, a nervous habit I had had since forever. Once I was back on the main road I noticed the small smear of blood on my hand and I abruptly stopped, remembering the other day in the library. I bit my lip again and was immediately relieved when I tasted the bitter metallic taste.
I dabbed at my lip with my fingers and when they came away stained red I let out a sigh of relief, continuing my journey home. I reached into my back pocket looking for the small tube of chapstick I always kept with me, only for my hand to go completely through the pocket. I groaned, glancing behind myself to see that sure enough, my back pocket was adorning a generously sized hole. I licked my lips and ran the back of my hand across them once more to rid them of any more blood, and traded the leisurely pace at which I walked to the preserve for a more brisk jog.
It took me about ten minutes running, before I was dragging myself up my empty driveway, a sheen of sweat across my forehead. I made my way up to my room, stripping as I went, my clothes covered in sweat, dirt and dead leaves. I threw them into the hamper quickly before picking out a black long sleeved off the shoulder shirt and throwing it on. I grabbed a pair of jeans from my dresser and took them with me into the bathroom, running the water to wash my face.
I heard a car pull up as I did up the buttons on my jeans, quickly glancing out the window to see my mother's car parked perfectly. I ran back into my room, grabbing a sleeveless button down blouse to throw on as well as a jacket, prepared for the chillier weather this time.
"Ryan?"
"Coming!" I called, making my way down the stairs. "Hey," I paused by the door as she hung her coat up, slipping off her shoes.
"Going somewhere?" she asked, eyeing my jacket and the sneakers I was just slipping my feet into.
"Uh yeah, actually I was just gonna ask to borrow the car. Lydia called, said she needed me to come over. I think something happened with her boyfriend. She sounded pretty upset." I made my best 'have some sympathy' face and neglected to mention that Lydia's boyfriend was already her ex-boyfriend, and that said ex-boyfriend happened to occasionally shift into a giant lizard. But other than that it was the truth. Mostly.
She gave me an exasperated sigh, staring at me as if she had super lie detecting powers. But hey, after everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, maybe she did. Who knew anymore.
"I don't know Ryan. You had another nightmare last night and you know my policy on going out if you've stayed home from school." She gave me a pointed look before making her way into the living room.
"Mom come on. She really needs me."
"Doesn't she have any other friends she can call?"
"You mean more mentally stable friends?" I raised an eyebrow, knowing it was a low blow but needing to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
"Ryan you know that's not what I meant." She said sharply, her defenses immediately going up.
"No mom. She doesn't have any other friends she can call. Not anymore." I sighed, crossing my arms and staring hard at my mother. This was how it always was. Minimal communication, full of sighs and stares. Finally she held out her arm, dropping the keys into my hands.
"I want you home before dinner."
"Okay." I nodded, kissing her on the cheek before charging out the door. Punching Lydia's address into the GPS on my phone, I pulled up to her house just as the sun was setting.
"Ryan, it's so good to see you again!" Her mother greeted me warmly, giving me a peck on the cheek as I walked in.
"You too Ms. Martin." I smiled at her, wiping my feet on the welcome mat. "How are you?"
"I'm pretty good, thank you." She nodded at me, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "How are you? Did you first day of school go well?"
"Uh yeah. Yeah, Lydia really helped me get through it." It wasn't a lie, more of a half-truth.
"Good, I'm glad. Listen Ryan I know she can be a handful sometimes, but thank you for helping her through whatever it is she's going through." Ms. Martin sighed, letting her eyes fall shut, a sad smile on her face. She opened them again, smiling more brightly, pointing up the stairs. "Lydia's in her room, why don't you head on up." I nodded at her, smiling politely before making my exit.
I had barely knocked on Lydia's door twice before it was flung open and I was yanked inside.
"What took you so long?" she whined, sounding a bit strained.
"Sorry, I had to wait for my mom to come home with the car," I sat down on the edge of her bed, as she paced in front of me, her hands twisting the edges of her beige sweater. "What's wrong?"
"I just…" she stopped pacing to turn to me. "I feel like I'm losing it." She looked like she was near hysterics, staring at my feet rather than my face. "I don't…I don't know what's going on anymore." She sat down on the bed next to me, slowly turning to face me. "Do you think I'm crazy?" she whispered, again refusing to meet my eyes. "And don't sugarcoat it! Tell me the truth." She added sharply, pressing her lips together.
"Lydia," I said calmly, placing my hands on either side of her face and forcing her to look me in the eyes. "I don't think you're crazy." I pronounced each word carefully and slowly, as if I wasn't sure she'd understand me. I debated telling her right then and there about everything. The werewolves, the kanimas, the hunters.
I also considered telling her about the fairies, demons and banshees that I suspected lived in the woods around this place, but I kept my mouth shut. As much as I wanted to tell her, these secrets weren't mine to tell. But there had to be some way to help her, something to say to her that would both calm her down and not let the wolf out of the bag.
"I think," I let my hands fall down to her shoulder, staring at them a minute thinking of what I wanted to say before looking back up at her. "That this town is strange as shit. And I think that you've been dragged into some weird and crazy things that no one can really make sense of. And I think the best thing for you to do is to just not try. Don't worry about what's possible or impossible, don't worry about what you think is happening or isn't. Just look out for yourself and your wellbeing, and forget about the rest of it." She had gone back to looking at my feet, and I gave her shoulders a squeeze, getting her attention. "Okay?"
She threw her arms around my neck without a second thought, her tear stained face digging into my shoulder. I hugged her back, rubbing small circles with my thumb across her shoulders. I stayed quiet, just letting her cry it out, because sometimes that was the best thing a person could do. Cry out the bad, make room for the good.
Fifteen minutes later and she was good as new, chatting away about some dark haired, blue eyed boy who had been borderline stalking her but in a cute way? To be honest I was only half paying attention, a deep sadness setting in over me for no apparent reason. This was how it was sometimes, my depression (whether it came before or after the PTSD diagnosis is still up for debate) always leaving me with questions I could never answer.
I laid on my stomach on her bed, my feet crossed in the air behind me as I traced my fingers along the dozens of notebooks she had strewn across her bed. She paced back and forth in front of me, occasionally stopping to stare directly at me and make sure I was responding correctly. She told me about how he brought Prada back to her, her small dog who currently sat curled up next to me as my free hand gently rubbed her back. About how he said he wanted to kiss her but she wouldn't let him, partially because he was still a stranger, partially because she didn't need a boy to make her happy, and partially because boys like a good chase in general.
About the small purple flower he gave her, which stemmed a ten minute search for the flower, which she could not for the life of her find. She gave up after a while, saying something about finding it another time before I had completely zoned out, staring at her handwriting on the page as something tugged at me inside, like this was of the utmost importance.
They were just words though, not even in English.
Credo quia impossible est.
"Lydia, you know Latin?" I squinted up at her, my fingers lingering on the words.
"Mhmm," she nodded, looking slightly confused at my swift change of topic. "Do you?"
"Not fluently," I mumbled, staring at the words again. I knew this phrase though, but it was like the meaning was escaping me. Dancing around my field of vision, just hiding in my blind spot. I squinted harder at the words, willing an answer to come to me. "Is this…regular Latin?"
"Nope. It's archaic. It's a little different from classical. Older."
"'I believe it because it is impossible.'" I tapped the words on the page as I translated them, albeit roughly, looking up at her as if she could tell me why this was relevant. Because it was, I knew it was. I just didn't know how I knew. Or why. She looked at me uncomfortably for a moment, not liking that the conversation was taking a U-turn back to where we started.
"So…Allison's a hunter…?" I repeated, making sure I had understood correctly. Scott nodded at me, lips pursed tight.
"Her whole family is." Stiles added, mimicking Scott's posture.
"And…they hunt werewolves." I clarified, not disbelieving, just to double check. Scott nodded again and I looked between the two boys with an eyebrow raised. "Seems a bit Romeo and Juliet-esque, doesn't it?"
"Oh, oh, and Romeo and Juliet was also written in Latin!" Scott looked hopefully at Stiles who just sighed deeply, clamping a hand on his shoulder.
"Romeo and Juliet was written in English…" I said slowly as Scott's face dropped.
"Uh, right. I knew that. Yeah."
"I'm a little lost at what Latin has to do with any of this? If anything, isn't the name Argent French?"
"Yes, yes it is. But the Argents have this book called the Bestiary, which is-"
"A book explaining the different kinds of supernatural beings?" I guessed and Stiles jumped up, his hands in the air.
"YES! Thank god, finally, someone who didn't think I was talking about Bestiality!" I grinned glancing at Scott, who was shaking his head and mumbling under his breath, annoyed.
"Still not seeing where the whole Latin thing comes in…"
"The book is entirely in Latin." Scott sighed, running his fingers through his hair.
"Yeah, and not just regular Latin. Archaic Latin. Like, the oldest version of Latin there is." Stiles added, sitting back down next to his best friend.
"It's hard enough to find people who know ordinary Latin these days, finding someone to translate Archaic Latin for us? It's looking near impossible."
"Hello? Earth to Ryan!" Lydia waved her fingers in front of my face as I blinked myself back to the present.
"You know Archaic Latin?" I repeated, as she widened her eyes, pursing her lips at me as she nodded, as if she wasn't sure if I had actually been paying attention for the past twenty minutes. "We have to talk to Allison. Now." I jumped up from her bed, jamming my feet back into my sneakers before grabbing a coat hanging on her door and handing it to her.
"Wh-Allison? Why?" I pulled her arm towards the door before she shrugged me off, holding her ground. "Ryan, what is going on?" She looked angry, and a little hurt and I closed my eyes, realizing I was doing exactly what everyone else had been. Pulling her in different directions, giving her no explanations.
"Do you trust me?" I opened them again, studying her carefully to gauge her reaction.
"What?"
"Lydia. Do you trust me?" I repeated, holding my hand out to her. She stared at me for a minute until finally she rolled her eyes, placing her hand in mine somewhat reluctantly, but at the moment I'd take it. I led her to the car, throwing a goodbye over my shoulder towards Ms. Martin as we hurried out the door.
"I think there's something important that Allison needs translated. But it's in Archaic Latin." I explained, trying (and failing) to stay below the speed limit as I turned down side streets, following Lydia's directions to Allison's house.
"What could Allison possibly need translated from Archaic Latin?" Lydia asked skeptically as I shrugged, completely exasperated with the entire thing.
"An extra credit assignment? I have no idea Lydia, I know next to nothing about any of this." And it was true. Sure I knew about the existence of the supernatural, but as to what translating this Bestiary would provide? Nothing.
We pulled up minutes after Allison's own car pulled into her driveway, her small frame climbing out of the car as I quickly threw my own car into park behind her.
"Allison!" I jumped out, scrambling over to her with Lydia in tow.
"I can't hang out right now guys," she shot me a pointed look, as if I should know better and I rolled my eyes.
"We're not here to hang out. Lydia knows Archaic Latin." I bit my lip hopefully glancing over at Lydia, who stood by my side complacently.
"You know Archaic Latin?" Allison raised an eyebrow, sounding slightly disbelieving.
"I got bored with Classical Latin." Lydia shrugged, matter of factly.
"Just how smart are you?"
"Just show me the pages." Allison led the way through her house, just as big as Lydia's, introducing me briefly to her parents. Her mother, I noticed, was the woman from the front desk at school. I smiled politely at them as they gave me the once over. From what I knew about Allison's family they were probably determining if I was a threat, or if it was acceptable for me to be hanging out with their daughter. Mr. Argent welcomed me warmly after a minute and I knew I had passed the test.
We flew straight up to Allison's room as she shut her door quickly and dug through her bag, emerging with a small flash drive. She powered up her computer, jamming the USB into it, and immediately pages upon pages of fancy calligraphy popped up, none of it in English. Which I knew already, but for some reason I still furrowed my brow, tilting my head in confusion at the words.
"I know, right?" Allison whispered to me as Lydia sat down at the desk, going to work reading the page Allison had pulled up for her. Lydia scrawled down her translation on the back of a worksheet lying on the edge of Allison's desk as if Archaic Latin was her first language, and I just stared at her in awe. Lydia was just so smart. I only wished I could have that kind of intelligence locked away inside my brain. Instead my head was just full of ghosts and demons, constantly waging war against me.
"Are you sure? Ms. Morrell said that word means friend. 'The kanima seeks a friend.'" Allison repeated, looking over Lydia's shoulder as she finished.
"She was wrong." Lydia shrugged, still staring at the computer screen. "It means master."
"The kanima seeks a master." Allison looked at me and I felt my stomach drop to my feet. Someone was controlling Jackson. Which meant someone was making him murder innocent people. But why? My brain was going a mile a minute as I pressed myself closer to the computer, mirroring Allison.
"What? Is that important?" Lydia's tone was clipped as she got up with a huff, making her way over to Allison's bed.
"Yeah." Allison mumbled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Someones not protecting him. Someone's controlling him." We both looked at each other and I had to remind myself that I wasn't some trained hunter like Allison, and I wasn't as clever as Stiles. This wasn't something I should be getting caught up in. If anything I would only be getting in the way and slowing everyone down. My phone chimed from the bed and Lydia picked it up, glancing at the screen before turning to me.
"Your mom says you have three minutes to get home in time for dinner."
"SHIT," I shouted, grabbing my phone from Lydia's hand as I glanced at the time. I had completely forgotten that I'd had a curfew. "Okay, uh, we'll see you later Allison." I said, yanking Lydia off of her bed and down the stairs.
I dropped off Lydia and sped home, praying there weren't any cops on the road. The last thing I needed was Mr. Stilinski pulling me over for a ticket when I was already late for dinner. My parents were gonna kill me. I pulled into the driveway, and threw the car into park, jumping out and sprinting to the door, key in hand.
"Hey, sorry I got stuck in traffic, but I'm here no-" I froze as I entered the living room, where my parents sat laughing and smiling at Isaac, sitting in our armchair. I looked from them to him and back again, waiting for some kind of explanation.
"Oh look who finally decided to come home!" My dad observed, shooting me a mocking smile. I kept my face neutral, eyeing my parents as if they had lost their minds. Isaac grinned at me from the chair, rising when my parents stood.
"Isaac came by to return this." My mother produced my small tube of chapstick, blueberry scented, the only kind I ever wore. My focus shifted to Isaac, who stood there standing somewhat awkwardly in my living room, looking very large and out of place. Or maybe I just wasn't used to seeing anyone in this house aside from me and my parents. He smiled at me, and for some reason it made me uneasy, as if this little visit wasn't just some act of charity. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Thanks." I stated dryly, taking the chapstick from my mother and shoving it back into my pocket.
"That was very nice of him, wasn't it Ryan?" My mother prodded, trying to get a more sincere response out of me. All I did was nod, my lips pressed into a tight line.
"You know, you're the first friend of Ryan's we've gotten to meet," My dad started, and immediately I knew where this was headed.
"We're not friends!" I quickly interrupted, as both of my parents turned to me, startled. "I mean, he…he's not one of my friends. He's just in a few of my classes." I mumbled lamely under their intense stares. Isaac choked down a laugh from where he stood, clearly amused.
"Why don't you join us for dinner Isaac? I bet you could teach Ryan a thing or two about manners." My mother shot me a glare, and I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, on how to properly maim and kill someone with your bare teeth." I mumbled under my breath, completely aware that he'd be able to hear me. His eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch at me and I shot him a polite smile, turning on my heels and marching into the dining room.
"That sounds great Mrs. Moore, thank you."
"Oh please, call me Lesley. And my husband's name is Aaron." I rolled my eyes, sitting in my usual spot as my mom passed out plates, setting dinner down in the middle of the table. Steak and fries.
My mother sat on my right, my father on my left, like we always did. Well, always did when we ate dinner as a family. Which was actually never. Isaac sat across from me, awkwardness radiating off of both of us.
"So, Isaac, have you lived in Beacon Hills your whole life?" my father asked, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth. I rolled my eyes as Isaac took a swig of his water.
"Uh yeah, yeah. It's a nice little town. Everyone knows everyone. How has the move here been? You guys came from New York right? Must be a big change." I angrily cut my meat, chewing each piece as if it were Isaac's head. He was actually sitting here making small talk with my parents. Was he kidding?
"Well we lived in a smaller part of New York, more upstate. But yes, it is quite a change." My mother laughed politely and I shoved another piece of steak into my mouth. "Ryan," she warned, refocusing my attention from Isaac to her, giving her a grim stare. "Will you stop chewing like a mountain lion? It's rude." I chewed extra hard once, twice more, before finally swallowing and taking a sip of my juice.
"Speaking of mountain lions," Isaac started, nonchalantly working on cutting his own steak. Oh no. Here it comes. Whatever he's here for, this is it. "You should be more careful when you go on hikes through the woods Ryan. There's a large mountain lion population out here. There have been more than a few attacks." I felt my mouth drop open as my eyes narrowed into slips, glaring at him. He did not just rat me out in front of my parents. He did not.
"Ryan Grace!" My mother scolded as my father cleared his throat loudly, conveying his disapproval.
I was going to skin this boy alive and wear him as a fur coat for the rest of my life.
"You snuck out of the house and went on a hike through the woods?!"
"I didn't sneak out. No one said I couldn't go out today." I clarified, pushing the remainder of my food around on my plate, seething in my own anger.
"You stayed home today because you had another episode last night, and you thought that meant that instead of going to school and learning, you could go exploring the woods?" My mother stated, her voice rising an octave.
"It's a Preserve!"
"Just what did you think you were doing?! This is unacceptable Ryan, you had been doing so well!
I let my head lean against my hand as she continued her barrage of insults. My eyes never left Isaac's, giving him the deadliest glare I could muster up. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable either from my staring or from my mother completely airing all of my dirty laundry out for him to hear.
"Ryan your mother's right, you could've gotten hurt, out there all by yourself." My father chimed in, too busy with his food to really get in on the action, but trying his best anyway.
"And yet here I am. Completely unscathed." They both ignored my sarcasm, impervious to it after so many years.
"You know the rules Ryan! The last time you went out gallivanting when you were supposed to be home you almost died and Casey-" A loud high pitch noise rang through the air and I winced, feeling the wind get knocked out of me all of a sudden.
"ENOUGH!" I yelled, silencing my mother for once in my life. "I'm sorry, okay? It's over. Done with. Ground me, whatever, just drop it!" I stood up, Isaac staring at me with an expression somewhere between horrified and amused. "I think it's time for you to go home." I kept my voice cold and distant, staring at him until he nodded slowly, standing up.
"It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Moore." He politely shook each other their hands before I took him by the sleeve, roughly shoving him towards the door as he chuckled under his breath. I slammed the door behind him without so much as a goodbye or even a threat, feeling mentally and physically depleted.
"Ryan what's your problem? That was so rude to just kick the poor boy out like that." My father started, as I held up a hand to stop him.
"Dad, not now." I felt tired. Tired and drained and lifeless and like I needed to sleep for a very long time. Part of me was still in shock that Isaac had just come to my house and ate dinner with my parents, solely to tell them that I had been lurking the woods by myself. Which wasn't even true. Sure, it may have been my intention. But when it came down to it, the amount of time I actually spent alone in the woods was pretty slim.
My mind instantly jumped to Ava, seeing her there in the woods. It made my stomach turn, to see here there, with blonde hair as opposed to the chocolate brown I was so accustomed to. It was all so out of place, everything so wrong. And how had my mind mustered up a hallucination like that? PTSD helped make me relive the past, twisting and turning events I had already experienced. But I had never seen Avery with blonde hair.
I heard screaming and for a minute I thought it might be myself, that this was all getting to much for me again. But I blinked again and the world came back into focus, my mother continuously scolding me for everything I had done.
"Mom, I-"
"No Ryan, enough is enough! You've been tricking us this whole time, haven't you? Into thinking that you were getting better, doing better. Have you even actually made any friends?"
"Yes mom, they're-"
"Well I don't think they're a very good influence now are they?"
"Mom it's not their fau-"
"Maybe moving here was a bad idea." My mother sighed exasperatedly, holding a hand to her forehead, as if she had the hardest life out of everyone standing in this room. I couldn't take it anymore.
"Yes mom! It was a bad idea! I never wanted this! But you never listen to anything I have to say, and when you do you accuse me of lying!" I felt my face grow hot, all of the rage bubbling over inside of me, and suddenly it felt like the walls were shaking. "The friends I've made here are some of the nicest, most considerate people I've ever had in my life, don't you dare go blaming them because you can't control me." I screamed, turning on my heels and running up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I heard her screaming after me, more mean things, but I tuned them out. I knew she wouldn't follow me. She never did. When I was little I used to watch all of those movies where the mother and daughter got into a fight, and the daughter stormed off to have her mother come after her and console her, making up in the end. I always thought that was how life worked. I was wrong.
I opened my door with a bit more force than necessary, letting out a heavy sigh. Why was everything always so complicated?
"She seems nice." I let out a small gasp, drawing my arm back and letting it fly instinctually, as Isaac's hand caught my own. He spun me around, pressing me to the back of my door, effectively shutting it. His eyebrow raised and a slow smirk began to spread across his face.
I was slightly winded, but I let a small grin slide onto my own face before I stomped down on his foot, as a strangled yelp of pain made its way out of his throat and he let go of me, hopping backwards. I crossed the room, determined to keep as much distance between us as I could, for fear of committing homicide.
"Get out of my room." I seethed, pointing behind me towards the half open window.
"You seem especially hostile," he inspected his nails calmly, looking up at me from beneath long lashes.
"What the hell was that?!"
"I was having an intriguing discussion with your parents." He sat down on the edge of my bed and I immediately grabbed my pillow, chucking it at him.
"Don't bullshit me!"
"Calm down Ryan," he stood up from my bed, the pillow I had just thrown clutched tightly in his hands, as if he might need it to deflect whatever else I decided to throw at him. At this point I was considering the alarm clock on the table beside my bed.
"Do not tell me to calm down." My voice was low, holding all of the threat my 5'4" stature couldn't convey. "You have no idea how much shit I'm going to get for this!"
"I was doing you a favor!" He shot back, surprising me with the sudden raise of his voice.
"Doing me a FAVOR?! Please, enlighten me. Tell me how that wolfy little brain of yours interprets telling my parents that I went for a walk alone in the woods, where you proceeded to tell them had a mountain lion infestation, into this being a favor."
He refused to meet my gaze, staring at the floor between us, his jaw visibly clenched. I felt like my entire body was red, my face hot with anger as I bit my lip hard to stop myself from screaming.
"My parents are never going to let me leave the house again."
"That was kind of the point." He huffed, leaning back against my bookcase, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest.
"Excuse me?"
"Beacon Hills isn't safe Ryan. You're better off just staying out of everything. This is for your own good."
"You don't know me at all, do not sit here and act like you know what's best for me." I jabbed a finger at him, feeling like I was scolding a puppy too interested in their own tail to even listen to what I was saying.
"I know that having a PTSD patient running around in the middle of all of this is only going to cause more problems for us." He snapped, and I felt myself flinch back, the anger receding, being replaced with a feeling somewhere between disappointment and sadness. I don't know why I cared. It's not like I actually expected him to care about my well-being anyway.
Maybe the worst part about it was that he was right. I had been thinking that myself hours before. But there's always a difference between thinking something yourself, and having someone else point it out. When someone else points it out, it makes it real. And no one liked being told they were a nuisance, no matter how accurate of a statement it was. Either way it was a slap in the face.
"Ah, there it is. The real motive behind all of this. Well Isaac, let me make things crystal clear for you. I'm not running around in the middle of anything. I'm on the sidelines at best. I don't know much about how all of this supernatural shit works, but if you're really that scared about a little PTSD patient ruining things for you, then I think you might want to quit while you're ahead. Because if you can't handle me, you sure as hell can't handle a homicidal lizard." He stood there staring at me long and hard, as if he couldn't quite understand the words coming out of my mouth.
"You're going to get yourself hurt."
"Maybe that's what I want." I growled, sick of his patronizing attitude.
"You don't make any sense." He looked at me through narrowed eyes, shaking his head.
"And you've overstayed your unwelcome." I stomped over to my window, opening it further and gesturing towards it. "Now get the hell out of my room."
"So that's it? No 'thank you?'" I stood there staring at him, completely dumbfounded, my mouth screwed up in confusion.
"Th-thank you?" I stuttered out, cocking my head to the side, squinting my eyes at him. "Are you serious?" I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "What could you possibly think I would thank you for?"
"Returning your chapstick?" He tried, though it was obvious he knew it was bullshit just as much as I did.
"My chapstick." I nodded slowly, taking the small tube out of my pocket and studying it carefully, before forcefully chucking it at him, pegging him in the forehead.
"Ow," He made a face at me before rubbing his forehead, bending over to retrieve the chapstick, tossing it back onto my bed.
"How did you even know that was mine?!" My frustration had reached an all-time high in this stupid little town. With so many secrets, and so many clouded intentions, I didn't know what was true and what wasn't anymore. And I most definitely didn't understand why anyone did anything in the supernatural world of assholes.
"Because you always smell like blueberries." He blinked at me, as if this information were obvious.
"…What?" I couldn't have hid my mask of confusion and shock and slight pleasure but mostly anger if I had tried. "It's just chapstick, there's no way it's that strong." I said skeptically, giving him an annoyed look.
"Werewolf senses, remember?" He emphasized, equally as annoyed. He sighed, running a hand through his curls. "Anytime I'm within 50 feet of you I can smell you. You have a very distinct scent. It's like blueberries and lavender and…" Isaac's entire body grew rigid, his face suddenly looking mildly uncomfortable with everything he was saying. His nose crinkled up the tiniest bit, like he didn't like what he was smelling.
"Death?" I offered, a bit cynically.
"No, I don't think so. I don't know what death smells like."
"That's ironic for someone attempting murder recently." He ignored my jab, staring at me again.
"You smell like tears." I immediately looked away from him, staring instead at the opposite wall of my room. We were done here. I had already told him more than I had ever wanted him to know. Isaac wasn't the kind of person you trusted. I wasn't going to let him continue to stand in my tear scented room. Who knew what else his werewolf senses would pick up.
"I really think it's time you leave."
"Ryan," He started, taking a step towards me, hesitantly. "I did this to help you, I swear. If you get involved, you will get hurt." My anger flared up inside of me again and I grabbed his sleeve, pulling him towards the window.
"That's great Mr. Big Bad Wolf, don't let the window hit you on your way out." I barked, shoving him towards the window. A thought hit me and I paused, looking at him with a serious face. "You didn't really like my Bad Wolf sticker did you?" I deadpanned as his brow creased. "You just thought it was funny and ironic."
"Well yeah, I thought that was obvious…" I stared at him blankly for a minute before turning around and using my entire body to shove him out the window, rubbing my hands together in satisfaction once I heard the thud of his body hitting the ground along with the slew of profanities following.
I grabbed the chapstick still lying on my bed and chucked that out the window after him as well, making a mental note to never buy blueberry scented anything ever again.
"Strike one was defenestration. Strike two is castration, so I'd advise against trying to break into my room a second time."
"Defenestration?" He huffed, picking himself up off of the ground.
"The act of throwing someone or something out of a window. Look it up." I rolled my eyes, reaching up to shut the window.
"I thought it was three strikes, you're out," He mocked, folding his arms across his chest.
"Yeah," I nodded enthusiastically, my grip on the window tightening. "On strike three, I kill you." And with that I slammed the window shut so hard the window pane shook, the few glass trinkets and plants on the left side rocking back and forth as if they were dancing. I grabbed them all quickly to steady them, before noticing my brand new Daylilies were wilting.
I had just bought them a few days ago, and they were supposed to be one of the hardest plants to kill, precisely why I bought them. They were completely fine this morning too. I emptied the pot into my garbage before letting myself fall face first onto my bed. Did werewolves have some supernatural plant killing abilities too? I let out a loud groan before rolling over onto my back and deciding I didn't want to move for at least another week.
Beacon Hills was a mad house.
A/N: Helloooo! So so sorry for the massive wait, but I've been so busy with school and work and homework and everything that this chapter took me a while to write.
Thank you so so much to everyone that's favorited and followed, and a special thanks to , BriancyyD, CourtneyxWolf725, kaljara, BrittWitt16, WhatsGoingOn, MessintheMirror, Fruitlessberry, wolfgirl667, creaturesliehere, Red Constance, JackieOh, and Sworn Pledge for your wonderful reviews!
Anyone have any ideas as to what's in store for Ryan? :3 Hehe I hope you guys like this chapter, let me know what you think! And feel free to send me a message on tumblr too, I love making friends!
Lots of love!3
-Briana