Chapter 4

Melanie and Stiles watched as the coroners put the girl's pale body on the stretcher. Her stomach still twisted every time she saw a dead body. This girl was innocent. There was no reason she should be dead. Stiles's arms were crossed over his chest. He stared ahead, his forehead creased. Melanie could feel him shivering but wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from fear. His lack of emotion made her nervous.

The sun had gone down an hour ago and now blue and red lights lit up the woodland area, leaving it a chilling place. Caution taped surrounded the murder scene with a thirty foot radius. Melanie couldn't shake the numbing feeling that was taking over her entire being. She hated this feeling. It made her want to puke, but the puking feeling was less than it had been in the past. More than anything she wanted to leave, but that was difficult while being questioned. The deputy was young, Parish he said his name was. He looked a little young to be on the force.

"What were you kids doing out here?" Sheriff Stilinski asked the two. The deputy walked away having gathered their statements.

"Nothing," Melanie said, her eyes flat with boredom, hiding away her inward feelings. He couldn't do much if he couldn't see much.

"I'm serious."

"So am I. We weren't doing anything, but walking around. I got bored with school. He thought he'd be my puppy for the day, but I told him that I'm not depressed so it was pointless, but as his father you probably already know that he is deaf in the brain and doesn't listen to people," she replied, pointing at Stiles who still looked at the tree that the girl had been tied to. Her blood stained the trunk.

The sheriff stared at her for a long time, his brows furrowed in a deep frown. She knew he was trying to decipher her small rant/explanation. People always got that look when she did that. He glanced over at his disturbed, oblivious son then sighed, giving up.

"Are we free to go?" She grinned, standing up fully and confidently.

"Yeah, go home. I'll call your parents and let them know you're alright. They're probably wondering where you are by now," he said.

Stiles's head snapped to right then, his eyes wide and alert at his Dad. Melanie bit her upper lip and shook her head awkwardly, looking away for a beat. Sheriff Stilinski looked between the two teenagers again, more confused than before. He shuffled his feet.

"Dad," Stiles breathed tensely.

"It's okay," Melanie said, nudging him lightly. "My parents are dead, sir."

She wasn't looking at him as she said it, but past him, into the dark. This wasn't the first time she'd told people that she was an orphan or the first time she'd gotten the look he was giving her now. The sad eyes that made her feel completely pathetic because she wasn't like kids who had two parents, or who only had one because the other left them behind. She had none. Period. She was never going to go looking for them because they had left her so another family could hopefully adopt her like some cliché movie. She knew where they were. They were in a cemetery in Devonport of eastern Texas, and she visited them twice a year. Once on their marriage anniversary, and once on their death anniversary. After all, they were dead because of her. The least she could do was go see them.

"Let's get you home," Stiles mumbled, rubbing her arm and nodding toward the general direction they had come from.

She ignored the apologetic look on his face as they parted ways with the sheriff.

"You didn't tell him?" she inquired as they got beyond ear shot of the police.

"You said not to," he said blankly.

"Hm," she said and nodded. She didn't think he actually listened.

They walked mostly in silence, an occasional question leaving Stiles's mouth, but he was quiet, upset. Asking the quiet questions seems to be the only thing that was helping keep him distracted, but it wasn't enough.

"So where do you come from?" he asked.

"Lots of places," she replied.

"Like…"

"Sydney, Las Vegas, Los Angeles. El Paso, San Diego," she listed off the top of her head.

"Sydney, Austrailia?"

"Yeah, there are some good waves there," she commented, smirking. The surfing was excellent. That was until she met him…

The smile she bore on the short lived happy memory faded quickly and was replaced with the urge to purge.

Reaching the jeep fifteen minutes later, Scott and Isaac were leaning against the hood, waiting for them. Their talking halted at seeing Melanie and Stiles. Melanie looked between both of them. Isaac avoided eye contact with her and Scott gulped hard, his eyes softened and hurt. The hurt wasn't for himself though. Like the way the sheriff had stared at Melanie a little over and hour before, Scott stared at Stiles, but Stiles wasn't paying attention.

"Hey guys," he said with a yawn. "So, Mel and I found a body. It wasn't Heather though. She's still out there. I'm going to head home and do some research. I got a look at the body before my dad arrived. It's like what Dad said about the last victim; head was bashed in, throat slashed and was strangled."

Melanie said nothing as she stared between the three of them. Her neck itched at Stiles's final words.

"Uh, yeah. Stiles, I have something to tell you when we get back," Scott said, his arms limp at his side.

"Okay," Stiles said. "What is it? Tell me now."

"I can't. There are some things I'm not sure about yet."

"Okay…" Stiles said, opening the driver's door. he looked at his best friend skeptically.

They found Heather, Melanie thought. There was no way they couldn't have. She was dead too. You didn't look like your dog had been ran over unless your dog had been ran over, so to speak. Even Isaac was broken up. He refused eye contact.

Moving past Melanie, she got in on the passenger's side, sitting in the back. The less she heard the better, she decided. She'd found somebody like she wanted. It wasn't Heather, but there was no point in searching for Heather now. They boys found her and she wasn't okay according to the looks on their faces.

"Let's go. You guys can talk later. I'm cold and starving," Melanie complained, hoping to distract them.

Luckily, the complaint worked. Isaac got in on the other side, sitting beside her. Melanie looked out the window, scooting as close to the window as she could. Nobody said much of anything, but both Scott and Isaac could hear everybody's combined heartbeats mixed with Stiles's thumb tapping on the wheel and Melanie's finger tapping on the denim of her jeans.

Melanie said nothing after they pulled up to her house. there was only the slamming of the car door.

"Hey," Stiles called.

Melanie stopped and turned, having only gotten a few feet.

"I'm sorry about my Dad," he said.

"It's okay, really," she replied, shrugging. "It's not like I can bring them back."

"I know, I'd bring my Mom back if I could." he said.

She nodded in agreement.

"Good night."

"Night," She glanced at Isaac, meeting his eyes. A warmth and comfort spread to the tips of her body from her lingering glance. His expression was unreadable. She turned and went up to the house, wanting a nice long, steaming hot bath. Her skin vibrated, leaving her strangely elated. Isaac was so concerned though he hid it well.

With Scott and Stiles up front, uncomfortably quiet and Melanie having gone home, nobody saw his eyes and the vivid color they emanated. His heart pounded hard against his chest as he watched her slip into the house. He thought about getting out and following her. He'd tell Scott and Stiles that he'd question her to see what all she knew, a pointless excuse. But, he didn't move in the slightest. There was no jerk or twitch. They drove off and he could faintly hear her going up the stairs. Though her sound faded, her scent remained, driving his senses crazy and leaving him confused.

Stiles didn't come to school the next day. It turned out that Scott and Isaac had found a body too. Heather, like she thought. An eerie silence had enveloped the classrooms while whispers sounding like the rushing of river rapids filled the hallways. Melanie didn't say anything at all, not even when Danny spoke. There was a nod here a nod there, but no sound. The numbing feeling hadn't gone away. Two people were dead. No, she didn't know them, but there was still that hollow depression in the pit of her stomach. There were people who did know the dead though. Stiles.

Scott didn't say much either. Lydia, Allison and him spoke a lot in hushed tones today as if there was a deep secret they knew, but nobody else could. Finstock kept up his usual glory in class. Like a robot, notes were taken and when the bell rang, assignments were handed in and the process was repeated in the next class.

"I don't know what would do this."

"Ask Deaton then." Her tone was demanding.

Scott and Lydia were in another intense conversation outside the lunchroom. Lydia eyed Melanie cautiously, her hand on the handle of her purse as it perched on her shoulder. Her fingers wiggled a little with impatience. Her eyes, wide and nervous gave away her fear. She could feel it in her gut. Something was wrong.

Melanie walked past the two, not acknowledging them, though she heard every word. Deaton. Who was he? Another werewolf? She hoped that listening would get her more information, but it was useless. They changed subjects.

Over the next few days the silence faded, and the life of the school returned as did Stiles.

"Hey," Isaac said, coming up alongside Melanie at her locker. She was looking at her phone. No voicemails. Isaac visited her the same time yesterday. She shoved her phone into her pocket aggravated.

"Hey," she mumbled.

"You've been quiet lately," he said.

"Sorry," she said. She paused after saying it, her fingers lying on the top of her Pre-Calculus book. Sorry? I don't have to be sorry, she thought. It was stupid. She grabbed her books and slammed her locker shut.

They made their way down the hallway. She looked down at the floor as she walked. Her eyelids felt heavy. Last night was a bad night to sleep. The nightmares had come back full force. Maybe it was because of the strange deaths. Stiles said that both people had been bashed in the head, strangled and their throats were cut.

"Is it because of your parents?" he asked.

Melanie looked up at him abruptly, mouth a grim line. He knew.

"Stiles told you," she sighed tiredly.

Isaac just nodded, watching her tensely. She pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

Stiles didn't know how to be quiet like she thought. His medication dosage needs to be upped, she thought. Maybe then he'd learn to be more quiet.

"Don't worry about it." she said.

"If you ever-"

Melanie cut him off, smirking. He was as cute as Scott with all of his worrying.

"If ever need someone to talk to I can talk to you?" She smiled sardonically. She had heard the words so many times that they were embedded into her brain. "I'm okay."

A blank expression fell over his facial features like a light shadow. His mouth twisted a little as he struggled to find something else to say.

Looking ahead, Melanie stopped abruptly. Her back stiffened, resisting the shakiness that instantly came over her. Her lips parted and she gasped. Her books fell from her limp fingers. Through the afternoon rush to class she saw him; blonde, darkly handsome, dangerous. It wasn't possible.

No, no, no…

The word kept going through her mind like a horrific song on repeat as she just stared at the man who leaned against the wall at the end of the hall casually. People passed by him as if he wasn't there. The blonde met her with a coldness that swept through her like she was nothing but a thin piece of paper. She let out a panicked breath.

"Melanie?"

She snapped to and looked up at Isaac hoping he didn't see her terror. She clenched her fists to make them quit shaking. His brows furrowed with concern. He looked down the direction she had been fixated on.

"I-" she looked back down the hall. He was gone. "I think I forgot something. I'm going to go back and check."

She struggled to keep her voice steady. Tucking her hair behind one ear, she turned and walked back towards her locker. She heard him call after her, but walked faster, nearly dropping her books. Getting to her locker, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

Only receiving Derek's voicemail, she said,

"He's here. I saw him. Derek, I'm scared."

Her eyes welled up as her heart pounded against her chest like a clock counting down her last moments. The halls throbbed, blurring in her vision. She yanked off her glasses and closed her eyes tightly. This isn't happening, she thought. She couldn't be wrong about what she saw though. This wasn't some dream.

"Melanie!"

She looked up, banging her head back against the lockers. She rubbed it, wincing. A headache would emerge any moment. Finstock glared at her as he came down the hall.

"Why aren't you in class!?" he exclaimed.

Melanie blinked quickly and her eyes cleared up of tears as she stood up straight.

"I forgot something in my locker," she said.

"Well hurry up," he sneered.

She nodded and trotted to her locker a little further down the hall. Finstock watched her closely, not moving from his spot. The locker didn't open the first time. The lock stuck. Concentrating, she tried again, trying to steady her hand. It opened. She looked into the small space and reached for her hoodie. She did feel a little chilly. It was supposed to rain later.

Pulling it out, a flurry fell from within the fabric. She stuttered a gasp, putting her hand to her mouth. Her eyes watered all over again. It was happening all over again.

"Melanie! Get a move on!" Finstock yelled, but she just stared at the horrifically elegant flower at her feet.

Leaning over, she picked it up. A vibrant petal fell as she did, smoothly landing on the floor. She looked around. There was only her and Finstock who yelled at her again and was now making his way toward her. His words weren't making a single dent into her hearing.

Run, she thought. Her feet had already started moving toward the exit. It was just around the corner. Around the corner she'd be leaving this town behind. The pending questions of this place wasn't enough to make her face death in the form of a beautiful, brown eyed blonde who towered over her like the malevolent monster he was and who she thought she loved at one point. Her stomach wrenched more as the exit came in sight.

Finstock called her name, ordering her to stop. There was even a threat of detention. That only made her run faster. She hated doing what people told her to do. She had her own brain. She knew what she could and couldn't do. She thrust the metal door ope;)n and ran out of the building, leaving everything she'd built up here behind, knowing that she'd never see any of them again. Never seeing them would protect them.

Where are you Derek, she thought. Making it to the road, she stopped to put on her hoodie. Braiding her hair messily, she tucked it back in her hood and looked all around. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was watching and waiting for the right moment. She burst into a run, throwing the crushed flower in her small hand to the ground.

;)