"Can you describe this dream for me again, Ms. Lovette?"

"No."

"I just want a more clear understanding of this dream. You only touched upon it briefly last week but I believe that it revealed more than—"

"You know," she started, quickly cutting him off, "the only reason I even told you was because Nat brought it up."

"Right, she was concerned because she found you were talking in your sleep. She said it was like you were 'having an argument' with someone."

Her back hit the couch with a thud as her shoulders shifted rubbing against the fleece of her cloak. They were, what, 15 minutes into their session and Dr. Goodman was already prying. She wondered if anyone had ever told him that his attempts at subtlety were as piss-poor as a koala's diet.

"So what, I talk in my sleep, you know what they say about inquisitive minds; you just can't expect them to shut off even to sleep." He seemed to be appeased with her sarcasm, jotting something down on the notepad in rapid succession.

"Right, and do you find yourself questioning everything?"

"I do, actually, like if the shovel you use is the normal one or one of those they use to shovel snow? Or if you're going to go to the cemetery or just keep fantasizing about it." His face shifted, darkening.

It was a soft spot she had hit last session so of course she was digging her heel into it. He didn't give her a response, even as his face melted from that wonderful disdain to distant disapproval.

"So you said it starts with you in a white room. Is there anyone else in the room with you?" Her lip curled and she felt just how hollow this man made her chest. He was digging for sure, making a grave, and pulling out all of the fun she should be having.

Didn't he understand that she was mocking him? Mr. Hopper was unfamiliar with the art of setting a man on fire with your eyes, so he continued his probing, shoveling away at her, pretending to be unfazed. "Yeah, he's in the room."

He was fake.

"Your father, correct?"

He was sadistic.

"No, the bastard's lover," she drawled, leaning forward, bored eyes taking him in as she smiled.

He still had limits.

His face morphed again into that amusing mix of disbelief, annoyance and the pain of an oncoming headache.

Thank God. She was getting somewhere after all.

"You seriously have no sensitivity for your patients, do you, Marve?" Her back hit the couch so hard this time pain spread through the back of her skull from whiplash. "You use the correct terminology and I answer questions no matter how stupid they may be. That's the deal. That's easy enough to get, isn't it, Dr. Stoodmen?"

His limits became more and more visible.

The man's head swayed slightly, debating whether or not to go forth with her demands and she took in that his eyes weren't dark at all; they were grey. She rolled her eyes as Marve seemed to consider his next move, and she considered if maybe they were green.

"Right, so 'the bastard' is in the room as well. Can you tell me where he is? Does he try to speak with you? Do you see him?"

He already knew all of these answers! Maybe he had memory loss, that would explain why he was so shitty at his job.

"No, I can't see him. I'm in a chair in the middle of the room facing away from him. And yeah, he says things but usually he's just crying. I tell him to go away." She avoided telling him about the begging and pleading; he would jump on that. Try to get her to dig deeper and to understand why she wants his forgiveness.

She didn't.

"Does he ever move from his side of the room? Does he ever come closer?"

"No, he just stays on his side." There was a beat where silence fell over them and she allowed her eyes to bounce from his pens on his desk to the picture of his wife.

"What about the door, Aurora?" he asked, and the ball dropped. Against her will her eyes grew wide at the abrupt question and she felt like the bunny that her sister used to compare her to. Damn shrink, this was his stupid goal. He had started treating the door like a breakthrough and she had to shut that shit down.

It took her a second to rearrange her features from doe to siren. Her eyelids sagged to uninterested slits as she cradled the left side of her skull in her propped up palm, eyes boring into his. Grey or green or maybe they were dark again but either way they were waiting. Expecting but she was waiting for the blink

"And what about necrophilia?" she started, enjoying the unnerved look that crossed his face. It was a standard face, dull and uninteresting, nothing more than a blur, just one of the many in the past month. They were all the same at this point but she could make them better; wrench it out and force something more entertaining to take over those dull features.

"Aurora, let's not get off topic this time." She paused, watching in dismay as he carefully fixed his face, smoothing down his pinched brows and pursed lips. And she found the ceiling to escape it.

It. the boring. The uninteresting. The dull. The maddening.

"Now, your father stayed at home. He was your main caretaker, he…" he paused, his hands hovering in front of him as tried to breach the topic. "He had a few episodes in your past. I just want to know if you were ever affected... if anything—"

Shut. Him. Down.

"How do you manage to fail me every time? You didn't know him. Yeah, he was crazy, and it wasn't even that he was a schizophrenic. He was off his meds because he wanted to be, he couldn't handle being a fulfilled adult. He was fine, you know, when he was medicated he was happy but he hated it. Mom would start asking about work and want him to be responsible."

"So there was never anything? Anything that scared you or you didn't understand?" Her eyes narrowed before she could stop them and she felt like a cornered animal.

"The… melon ball—" The voice came through grinding teeth. "I told you the melon baller. I don't want the ice cream scoop."

She was young. She grabbed the wrong thing. Kids do that all the time. And he was older than her. He couldn't take out his eyes with the ice cream scoop, it was Ariel's after all. It was her ice cream scoop for her 'Sunday Funday with her friends. She remembered grumbling to herself all the way back to the kitchen, wondering if he would actually find the chip.

But then.

The wheels in her 9-year-old mind turned.

If he did then grandpa would be upset. He had put it there, so if her dad took it out he would be upset.

Her eyes found the phone on the wall, it was on the other side of the kitchen next to the door, and her feet moved. She knew grandpa's number. She should let him know.

"Ro, I'll be there soon, sweetheart. Is your sister home?"

"Get into your bedroom, take the baller with you."

She pushed down the flashes, the screaming that echoed through the halls, the banging and her fathers shrill scream; she pushed them down, trying to forget how the sounds dissolved into heavy sobs. She pushed it back, shoving it away with everything else she didn't want to think about. Like the oak door, just like all the doors at the complex, with its stupid golden knob. It was brand new, just installed, unlike the beaten bronze it was different. She hated gold and she hated different.

"Mr. Sandman, I ask for dreams and you give me nightmares." Her feet landed on the floor a bit higher than she expected, still not used to the extra three inches Lydia insisted she wear. She stumbled a bit and moved to the door, throwing it open.

Stepping out of the office she was struck with all the familiarity of a hospital; its underwhelming color palette of white walls, with a simple grey streak and white lines running across the walls as support. She never cared for hospitals; she had been to the one in Brooklyn once when she was six and pressed a hot poker to her hip just to see how it would feel. Her mother, the doctor and the nurses all tried to teach her the concept of impulse control… she didn't learn much. Because she was burned again.

When she was six though the hospital was a mildly infuriating task of check ups, creams and bandages. And her mother's talking. Her mother just would not stop.

"She's had a strangely high pain tolerance since she was a baby. She never cried when she was supposed to."

"She won't do that again. You know, children there are always so curious."

The rest of the rambles seemed to blur as she tried to remember them all. In truth, her mother was just trying to fill in the silence that sat over them as the nurse examined the cigarette like burn on her daughter's hip. She just didn't want to be viewed in the eyes of some random nurses as a bad parent because her kid wasn't giving the correct reaction.

It was worth it though, Ariel had thought it was the coolest thing she had seen that month.

"You got a tattoo, Bunny! It's so cool, it looks like a star. You'll need to make more then I can connect those like I do with your freckles." The voice was vivid with its childish lisp and high pitch. It played through her mind and her hands felt cold, the exact opposite of the searing pain of iron burning flesh. Her knuckles buffed themselves against the soft fleece on the inside of her cloak and she was reminded of her dread when it came to hospitals.

It was funny, if she went back in she was sure Goodman would be more than happy to finish out the session, if she was willing to bring up Ariel.

She wasn't.

Her knuckles still rubbing against white fluff, she stepped forward and refused to look back, already considering the session a major failure. She was sure Natalie wasn't going to appreciate the phone calls saying her new ward walked out 20 minutes before the end of her session but she was in Brooklyn. What could she do all the way across the country? Call her? Blow up her phone?

That's what 'do not disturb' was good for.

Besides, she had done as she was told; she had given that man an honest session and even came to this week's session. She had kept that promise. Nat would learn over time, or maybe her mother would tell her that deals made with her daughter had to be as specific and thought out as making deals with a genie.

Checking her phone, she ignored the missed call from her mother; it hardly even piqued her interest. In fact, it reminded her that she would need to block her again at some point. Storing the thought away, she scrolled away at the screen, lazily finding Lydia's name in her contacts.

Sending a simple 'come get me' she was forced to face the reality that she was maybe a bit shortsighted, seeing as Lyida was probably sucking face or something grosser with Jackson and was currently unavailable.

God, she wished she could just drive. If Jackson could whisk Lydia away in his silvery Porsche, why the hell couldn't she get the beetle? Lydia was just like that; she enjoyed having her high heeled foot on your neck to keep you in line.

The hospital, despite being a collage of so many different things, wasn't big by any means. So by the time she made it halfway to the front she wasn't really sure where she was when a red-haired woman stopped her. Her face was set with a firm, annoyed expression that became almost excited at the sight of her.

"What are you doing here? You can't be in this wing, it's for live-in guests and checked-in family members only." Her hair was tied back at the nape of her neck, making it look like a long bright red funnel. Rory set her face, pulling an impassive expression, but her lips pulled down at the corners in that pouty way her sister would always point out.

"You're pouting again, Rors." The voice was older now, a joke with humor behind it. She could even see the redhead's face pushing out her thin lips to mimic the expression.

She hated it. Her inside joke made out of something Rory couldn't possibly control.

It wasn't her fault that her genetics had a sick sense of humor and gave her their mothers more 'innocent' features. Ariel always thought they were funny. She would bug out her eyes and push out her lips to try and replicate Rory's face.

It wasn't her fault she had wrongfully gotten their mother's genes. Her sister, who held more grace in her pinky than Rory did in her whole body, was more deserving. She was kind, sweet, enthusiastic, and cheerful, she more than deserved the dotted freckles and doe eyes. But she got the bastard genes: a harsh square jawline, dark eyes and thin nose. But that didn't take away from her beauty, and she was beautiful in every aspect of the word in mind, body and soul.

Rory always wondered where exactly she got her bubbly personality from.

The woman had advanced on her, white dress and shoes indicating her nurse status.

"I thought nurses were supposed to at least pretend to be friendly," she grumbled, feeling like a stray cat being shooed out of a store it just happened to wander into. The woman openly glared at her, muttering about children and how disrespectful they could be.

"Open mouth, insert foot, I guess." It was a phrase their mother had used on the bastard for as long as they could remember, and when Ariel had learned what it meant it had been a trademark for about a year that went from giggles to a nervous whisper. It was a remark she was sure her sister would be making now as the nurse's lips curled even tighter.

"The lobby is that way, I suggest you go there." Her face morphed into a tight smile as she took a few steps closer but the anger was in her set jaw and right behind her darkened eyes. "I can guide you."

Well, now the nurse was mocking her, but Rory let herself be guided anyway she knew what redheads were capable of.

Then everything went blurry? She had seen the entrance of the lobby and suddenly her mind was a TV flicking through channels. The white walls of the hospital were replaced with boring creme carpet; she could see the brown dress shoes that padded over it.

"Well, yes, she left, Mrs. Martin, I didn't stop her. She won't go any farther about the door. I'm afraid her dissociation is only allowing her to stray further from her grief. Has she expressed anything to you about her mother or even her sister?"

"No. Lydia says she's normal. Well, as normal as she could be and from personal experience I wonder, do you think she even acknowledged that her sister is gone?" Natalie's voice rang just as clearly in her ears as it did through Dr. Goodman's phone.

She felt she had never left the office, maybe she hadn't? Maybe she was still sitting on the couch watching him gossip about her like a teenager. She was pretty sure she had just escaped but obviously escape was impossible. She watched unimpressed as the doctor moved around his desk, picking up and putting down pens.

She scoffed as he brought up the safety blanket that was her cloak, connecting the white fleece inside to the white walls of the room. So much for doctor patient confidentiality. He was as much a horrible therapist as he was a gossip.

"Ms. Lovette?" a voice that was several octaves lower and warmer than the nurse spoke, and suddenly she was thrown out of her daze and her body sagged against the railed wall. "Are you alright? You just collapsed." Looking up she could see a surprising concern from the temperamental nurse and the kind pale eyes of Sheriff Stilinski.

Brushing off his concern, she straightened up, trying to figure out why she was propped unceremoniously against a wall. She had been walking on the other side of the nurse away from the wall.

"Any murder yet, Stilinski?" she asked, ignoring the redhead's eye roll or how she turned on her heels.

"Can you not ask me that everytime you see me?" he pleaded lightly, looking around as if afraid someone may have heard her.

"Oh come on, this whole situation is a living cliche." She waved him off with a cryptic smile and his lips pressed together, clearly touchy on the topic that was her 'unfortunate circumstance'. She was used to that, everyone being apprehensive of her situation. "A freshly orphaned kid in her teens comes to a small landlocked town in the boonies surrounded by trees. Add in some mystical mischief and I'll have authors knocking down my door trying to get my story."

Pale eyes squinted, making them a darker shade that didn't match his warm face. "I heard from Natile that you liked to read. I'm willing to bet that's what gave you your wild imagination."

"Then you'd be a smart gambling man, Sheriff. Think you can give me a ride home?" she asked breezily, tilting her head. She didn't think of it until she said it but it was a decent idea. "You already know where I live and Lydia is preoccupied doing details a gentleman such as yourself won't be interested in. I'm sure you want to keep your lunch, after all."

The words reached her mind the moment the last word came out and she would have been sorry but she just couldn't feel it. Even as his gaze became thin-lipped and uneasy, his eyes squinting but not narrowing like they should have been.

"You don't think much when you talk, do you?" he asked finally, and she smiled, shaking her head.

"No, I don't have much of a filter. Besides, I enjoy saying bizarre things, it evokes responses." He looked sad now, almost understanding and she was left to wonder how far Goodman's gossip might have reached. Then again you'd just have to look up any New York Times or the Brooklyn Eagle in the past month to gain some form of knowledge on her that she would have preferred never to have been made public.

It was funny to her how a three hour ordeal could lead to her entire life being on blast.

Just three measly hours.

"So that ride?" she asked, and he reluctantly agreed.

"You know," he started as she settled into the police car, "I haven't heard anything about your mother's passing. I know Natalie is in New York taking care of her." He cast a look over to her like he had expected her to fill in some kind of information.

"Yeah?" She nodded along with the man's words lightly.

"But you had just told me you were orphaned."

"Mother won't last long." Her voice took on a neutral and apathetic tone. "She's basically married to her work and her articles are her children. If you don't know, she's an investigative reporter, which is ironic. What with all the psychos she researched, she failed to see the budding madman in her own bed." She grinned lazily at the analogue before realizing her joke hadn't landed with the older man; she felt the corners of her lips tilt down again but powered on.

"Failed comedy aside, she'll be in pain for the rest of her life. She can't write anymore or travel. Her career is dead. That's why they had to sedate her. She was coming down from all the morphine and she just started screaming. Completely lost her mind. They had to put her in a medically induced coma because she refused to calm down and that was before she was told about—well, you know."

"Don't say that your mother—"

"You didn't know my mother. She was fine but just fine. She made sure the bills were paid and that we got birthdays and Christmas, but it was Russian roulette which holiday she would actually spend with us. Sometimes we wouldn't see her at all. My sister never liked it; she had to learn everything about hair and makeup from her friend's mom. I was her lab rat though any makeup or hair style, she would test it on me first."

Ariel had learned through failure, and the amount of makeup failures that Rory had to endure were one to many but she let her sister do it. She would smile wildly as she smeared a cherry lip gloss over her lips and giggle at the purple eyeshadow she applied to her eyelids with those crappy sponges on a stick that came with the makeup. She got better over time and one day, Rory didn't remember when exactly, she had traded the crappy sponges for real brushes and lip gloss for lipstick.

"I'm sure she loves you," Sheriff Stilinski prompted, though he didn't have any evidence to back up the claim.

"You know the pattern method." He nodded slowly, and her eyes sagged half-lidded, her lips pressed into a flat line with no childish pout in sight. "Once it's an accident, twice a coincidence, three times it's a pattern. You're a cop, I'm sure you get it, but that was my mother. Once it's Christmas, twice it's trick-or-treating, three times it's our birthday."

He stayed silent; he wasn't the type to poke his nose into her business when it was obvious she didn't want it. She appreciated that because most of the cops she'd seen lately wanted every detail of her bullshit business.

When they finally reached the Martin cottage manor she groaned audibly dramatically, throwing her head against the headrest. The driveway held one silvery Porsche which only meant one of two things.

"What is it?" The man sounded hesitant to ask and she didn't blame him. She was willing to bet she looked a little crazy. She was banging her head against the headrest after all.

Giving him a dry look, she pointed. "Beetle there. Porsche there. Think you could drive me to the local cemetery? If I hear shrieking and moaning there at least I won't know exactly where it's coming from." The man's eyes squinted again like he was looking at the sun as his head kind of moved and his hand found the bridge of his nose.

"You know you should really look into that whole 'think before you speak' thing. Some people might not be.." he seemed to trail off trying to think of a nice way to tell her what she already knew. People didn't like when you were too honest or crude and she was completely okay with that.

In fact she was banking on it

"You know you can learn a lot about a person when you're honest," she looked away knowing that she wouldn't like whatever face he was making and quickly changed the subject. "Do you think my teachers will like me?" she asked, suddenly turning to him, trying to play a sly smile and realizing a little too late that she sounded a bit anxious.

His expression softened and she suddenly wished she didn't feel as comfortable with the Sheriff as she did. He was one of those people you just felt safe with. He had this whole fatherly thing to him that made him warm and kind, even when she said annoying things he would be bemused rather than rude or dismissive

"That's right, winter break ends tomorrow. It's going to be your first day at Beacon. My son goes there too, he's about your age."

She looked at him for a moment then nodded. "I already knew that."

"Did you now?"

"Yeah, it was kind of obvious that you had a kid, the premature grey hairs are a clear indication. My old Principal Mr. Weller had a head full of brown hair when he started my freshman year; he's mostly grey now. I was hoping to get him completely white before graduation but…" she trailed off, because damn it, why did things always have to be so depressing? She was trying to make a joke, to make light of things.

"You seem to dream big, Rory, that's good." He nodded and she appreciated his false ignorance.

"It was a four year plan. I thought I could be cocky for a while and get it down to two, but after my first three plans only made him more committed to my rehabilitation I figured it was gonna be a while." She cast a glance back at the house and sighed.

"I need to go in but I really don't want to… so can I call the police department and say Jackson broke in? Because technically I didn't invite him in." The Sheriff laughed this time, a soft hearty chuckle that sounded like a replica of the good ol' movie dad trope.

God, why did that have to be so depressing?

"No, I'm afraid you can't do that, and I better not hear about you doing it either."

"If that helps you sleep at night."

She opened the door before he caught her. "I think your teachers will like you, they put up with my son well enough." She smiled before she could force it down and gave a quick nod before shutting the door.

Walking into the house she was greeted by the throaty, deep moans of her second cousin. She followed the noise into the oversized dining room of the Martin cottage manor. The place was akin to a museum to Rory, with high walls and polished floors. Just like a museum, it didn't exactly have the feel that someone should actually live in it. The first night there she felt that there should have been a closing when all the lights would be shut off and the night guard should start their patrol.

But she guessed no one would pay to see the Martin estate after all it might as well have been haunted with the overabundance of shrieking and gasping moans. To Jackson's credit, only half of it sounded like it was meant for boosting his ego.

Of course, she probably should have shut the door slowly and head upstairs avoiding the couple but she didn't idolize characters like the Cheshire Cat and bugs bunny simply because they were cute.

So she slammed the door, listening closely as moans stopped and the shuffling began.

"Sorry about that, Nat," she acted out the part pressing her phone to her ear. "Yeah yeah I know I'll shatter the glass I didn't mean to."

"So you're coming home when, again," pausing her hushed tones of panicked Lydia. "Yeah okay, I'll let Lydia know. I think she's home. Do you want to talk to her?" Making her tone mindless she fumbled to the dining room making as much noise as possible to announce her arrival.

When she got there her plan had played perfectly Lydia was staring at her wide-eyed as she haphazardly slid her blouse back up her arms. Widening her eyes like she had just stumbled upon them completely shell-shocked by their position she surveyed Lydia carefully. There was a certain kind of understanding she was attempting to pass along a 'do not put me on the phone' kind of understanding.

"Actually, I think she's in her room and I'm super tired after my session so I'm going to go take a nap. Yeah okay, I'll talk to you later bye, Nat." Her excuse made the fake call more awkward but she pressed being sure to make direct eye contact.

There in her green eyes was the look Rory was going for the look of relief and the drop of tense shoulders. Good, she owed her one.

"Well." She started rolling on the balls of her feet, her eyes darting almost too dramatic to be genuine to the side. "That was.. awkward." Her hands fiddled with the phone and she almost grinned at how easily Jackson could be fooled. Lydia on the other hand seemed more reserved. Her eyes probed her as her brain picked apart the situation.

"Rory, you're home early." She sounded a bit too confident and Rory knew she was screwed.

Because like her Lydia was a character in her own life playing a role that designed and excelled in the field. In other words, games recognized game.

"Hm was Dr. Goodman not in the office today or…?" She trailed taking a second like she actually needed it before her smile curled on her face. "Rory, did you ditch your appointment?" She gasped slightly like she just couldn't understand why she would do such a thing. Her head swayed, fingers pressing lightly against her lips as she thought up some divine punishment. "Did you let my mom know?" And there like a spear being plunged into her rips Lydia was ripping her apart with a ditzy aghast look on her face.

It was insulting.

"What, you dropped your shrink?" Jackson's lips stretched into a grimace. "Are you sure you want to do that? I mean Mrs. Martin might end up putting you in that insane asylum but look at the bright side you'll be with your own kind.. you know the freaks." It was weak, the insult, the wording, the delivery but Lydia still laughed like it was hilarious and witty.

"Spell asylum." She grinned, being sure to bare her teeth. Something that had been described by Holly and a few of her old teachers as 'off-putting.'

His mouth seemed to flap as he seemed to debate answering her or not and when they pressed into a thin line she knew he wasn't.

"I don't have to prove anything to you, freeloader." Jackson hissed like a blue-eyed snake.

Freeloader was one of the better insults that Rory had gotten from him. His snappy haughtiness and pride had instantly clashed with her listless and unimpressed personality.

It didn't land her in his good graces and with each meeting she fell more and more behind the line of insufferable.

"So Lydia I was wondering if I could ask a favor." Her eyes became a bit wider to press her fingers into whatever open wound Jackson always carried around. She liked to imagine it was in the place where a heart should have been but she wasn't sure. It could have just as easily been in his skull.

"Mm depend, what is it?" Lydia asked, crossing her own arms, her eyes flicking to the side like she really needed the time to think it over, which only made Jackson just that much more irritated.

Ignoring him so blatantly in favor of his 'ditzy' girlfriend would never not infuriate him; it was something Rory learned early on. Unless Lydia was drawing eyes for her looks or her social climbing which even someone like him couldn't overlook he didn't see a reason for people to choose her over him. It didn't make a lot of sense really since she was more approachable than him not that anyone who didn't bleed in her radar should openly approach her but she was the one who went out with her friend almost every day and hosted a majority of the party's. She was the more social one.

"It's about a guy. I want to know if you know anything about him?" Rory asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mmm." The girl hummed her brows drawing together in a way that could only be put in for a dramatic flair. "Walk Prada and I might put in some effort to figure it out. Is it a new kid because besides you and the rumored new girl I haven't heard of anyone. But I can ask Tracy if you want."

Her lips pulled into a deep grimace as she weighed her options. It was either walk the little handbag or attempt to find the information from a source that wasn't under the chokehold grip her queen bee cousin.

"Fine." She answered quickly, pulling her arms over her chest through the arm holes.

"Fine, is there any more details beside it being a guy," she was still acting stupid having to put up with the bitchy but I don't have a thought in my brain side of Lydia was annoying. Down right irritating and Rory was going to set the damn pure breed on a one way path into the woods..the thought of Jackson having to drive his stupid beloved Porsche through the preserve was enough to solidify the idea.

"Not new he's the Sheriff's son around our age." She started despite plotting Rory watched in amusement as her cousin's brows scrunched in confusion prompting her to pull away from her boyfriend who was running his lips over her shoulder. A fleeting attempt to bring back a mood that was slowly dying. Her lips pressed together and her eyes darted to the side as she tried to recall who the hell the Sheriff's son could be.

"Mmm," She thought aloud as she genuinely tried to think of the answer. "No, I have no idea who you're talking about?" For a moment Rory saw the eyes of someone in deep thought but it was just a mere moment

"So you can't think of anyone with the last name Stilinski?" Crossing her arms she tried to show as much condescension as possible. "It's not a very common name."

"Nope. Guess he's not on my radar which probably means he's not important." She shrugged, not taking the bait and turning to Jackson embrace.

"Not important? The son of the sheriff? Do you know what you could get away with if you have the sheriffs son on your side?." Lydia rolled her eyes less than impressed by her. " Look I have a list of why the sheriff's son is good to have on your side so seduce him for me will you?" She could hear a choking cough as Jackson straightened eyes pinning her down giving her a heated look.

It was in all honesty beautiful.

"You do realize I'm standing right here right?" Jackson's angry over dramatic voice piped in first causing a hefty eye roll.

"Yeah I know you're here. I'm just able to see the big picture and the big picture is sheriff son equals getting away with things you usually wouldn't and with that logic you're irrelevant to the equation." His eyes darted angrily and he let go of Lydia to take a dangerous step closer.

"Irrelevant?" Lydia gasped out arms reaching out to take his bare arm to show her disapproval. "He is the star of Beacon Hills and the three time caption of a-"

"Winning lacrosse team I know Lydia but this is the sheriff's son. When the murder starts he'll be the first to know everything. It's a golden opportunity." Her voice drawled as she whined dramatically.

Her face drew tight as if there were so many things she would like to say but couldn't not with her boyfriend standing Infront of her so instead she rolled her eyes" If you want Sheriff Stilinski's son so badly, why don't you go after him." With that she was pulled a glaring Jackson who scoffed at the notion of her ever being able to rope In a guy.

"In fact if you point him out to me ill even approve him for you." she smiled a sickly sweet smile before reminding her where the little dog's leash was.

"Thanks for the familial support." She muttered not bothering to actually be heard.

"She didn't even answer my question." Blue leash in hand she found herself muttering like a mad woman to the small black and white dog who trotted happily next to her in the tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. As much as she refused to touch the fluff ball she found herself ranting to the little thing.

"Come on." She beckoned the dog evenly as it followed her out the back gate out of the pool area.

She had only walked the dog a handful of times once on christmas eve and then again on New Years while Lydia hosting some huge New years party. She knew the small path to take the one past the pool gate leading to the front yard next to the woods. Both times it had been dark so it was only fitting that the sun was setting this time too. Both times the dog had taken no less than 5 minutes to do its business, sniff at the grass then yearn for the warmth of his luxurious heated bed. This time however he kept moving; she would even go as far to say the dog was pacing.

The waxing gibbous moon glowed overhead, a welcomed light in the sudden darkness.

He moved anxiously from one end of his leash to the other. A high pitch whimpering sound admitted from his small body wrecked with strong pants while simultaneously shaking, shivering like he was freezing.

Rory started pulling back "Okay come on Prada if you keep moving you might bulk up and then your heart will explode.. or something" her words were ignored and the small dog stopped not letting her budge him. Pulling a bit harder she found he was glued to the spot. His large puffed ears stuck straight up his paws positioned in a defensive pose that reminded her of every horror movie trope she had ever seen.

Then there was the barking a shrill sound of yips and howls with strong attempts to replicate intimidating growling.

"Prada? What's wrong do you see a man in a mask or a disfigured creature." She asked moving closer crouching down her hand covered the dogs head.

He of course didn't answer, only stairing at the dark woods as they casted long shadows on the forest floor. She surveyed them straightening ignoring the slight shiver under her the warm fabric of her cloak. It was small only reaching her waist and for the first time since she got it she wished it was longer as goosebumps rose over the exposed skin of her legs.

Ignoring that her hands closed in around the dogs little head covering its eyes. "See, Myers isn't waiting for you in there. Come on, let's go inside." Standing again her feet firmly on the freshly cut lawn she looked down at the transfixed pooch. He opened his mouth again not to happily let his tongue loll but to give a quick pant before letting out another brigade of barks.

She was not a dog person damn it.

"Prada nothing is there." Her sentence died as she was about to insist they go back inside when a thought crossed her mind.

This could be her chance to ignite the flame and let it burn. To set her entire chest on fire.

"Come one Prada." Her chest heaved as a pressure built but she pushed it down tossing her hair back like Areil would before going to a party or the mall she took steps towards the entrances of the forest. "Let's see for ourselves what's in there."

She had the dog pressed to her cloak as they strolled deeper into the woods. Woods that she had wanted to explore at some point anyway she had read that they ran into the Beacon hill preserve which was closed at night. The thought of having easy access to something off limits left a sweet taste in her mouth and she thought what better time.

"I think I'd be the first to die in a horror movie. It's what killed the cat, isn't it Prada." She cooed to the shivering animal in her arms, her breakage of the no touching policy going completely unnoticed as his eyes darted, floofy head swiveled from left to right.

He didn't bark anymore, just let out soft growls here and there.

She didn't go far enough into the woods that she couldn't see the soft warm glow of the lights but she wandered around enough to notice that the trees got oddly thinner as you moved farther in. She had turned away from the temptation ready to get the little dog back to his safety bed.

"No sense of adventure huh Prada that's why your not a cat." Her feet moved lightly as she avoided leafs and twigs a bit worried that to loud of a sound would give the dog a heart attack.

'Ravens aren't cats are they?' The words floated like dense fog through her head and a crunching noise echoed followed by a throaty growl ripple deeply through the dense collection of trees and she knew that wasn't Prada. The dog was shivering heavily not making a single sound and she pressed him harder against herself ear perking to try and find the sound without turning to face it.

Her feet moved slowly almost lazily even as the muscles under the calf's tensed a walking contradictory.

Turn and see what it is! The thought flickered thickly through her mind as silence settled uneasily and she almost turned. But the whole reason hadn't even come her chest was hollow and cold so she kept moving. Her body didn't freeze when the pounding came a quadrupedal sound.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, bang bang bang bang.

The weight broke leafs crushed branches throwing itself down to the ground with crashing quick pacing she kept moving her body almost refusing to show fear.

Run..run..run.. Run or your gonna die damn it!

Her hands tightened around the puppy as if it were a life line, the clearing of freshly mowed lawn coming closer in sight, the warm glow looking like honeyed safety.

Still the sound was closing in but never catching her despite her slow pace. Any predator would have been having her for dinner by now and eating Prada for dessert so what was stopping it. Before she could find out her feet reached the ends of the woods and dropping Prada she turned chest heaving against the white fleece, her icy fingers clenching the lining.

It was empty, nothing hid in the outstretched shadows, no figure slunk around pacing and growling darker than the lining of trees or under brush. But her muscles tightened regardless because whatever it was just toying with her.

She knew that.

Her body vibrated down to her bone backed up adrenaline flooded and she stupidly wanted to go back in. It hadn't gotten her and in her eyes it was a game of predator and prey her feet moved automatically closer to the lining there was no dog to hold her back she would face it now.

"What the hell did you do to Prada!" Lydia screamed, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist as Jackson's shirt hung against her.

"Nothin', I walked him." Finally she looked away from the lining, almost swearing to hear a puffed out gruff snarl but dismissing it for the whaling women in front of her.

"He's terrified are you trying to kill him." Her voice cracked at the same time a shiver over took her body.

"You get cold too easily." Rory hummed breezily walking past the strawberry blonde. "Let's go inside, I'll bet money that shirt is all you have on." Lydia's pale cheeks turned a deep shade of red but she followed without complaint. "You are not walking Prada ever again."

"You say that like it wasn't my goal."

Her second cousin huffed angrily but stayed silent as the two followed the path back to the house.

Everything was perfect. The bed was made with a comforter she pulled out of the dryer just minutes ago, the fleece blanket was tightly pulled over the edge of her bed, and the sea of pillows lay waiting for her. She was ready with a cup of sleeping tea and a bottle of melatonin she was going to sleep tonight. She would say a quick fuck off to the bastard and then push him and that damn room away without the damn door.

Yeah, that was the plan. She had turned off the TV and pushed the computer into the vanity drawer. Her cloak was hung by the hood over the bedpost next to her head. The only light left was the bathroom and she would shut it off tonight and keep the door closed.

All of the doors would be closed.

She gulped down the rest of her tea and popped the melatonin after shutting off the light. Settling into the dark blues and cool magentas of her comforter warm enough to stick to her skin she sank into the depths of her pillows and with one last look around the room she waited.

The only lingering light came from the neon blue of her clock. It was fancy and digital like Ariel had but this one didn't sing Hey, Soul sister in the morning. Had she been back in Brooklyn she would have scoffed at herself for turning in at 8:30 but sleep deprivation made everything about staying up completely unfunny so she flipped, turning away from the clock.

The fluorescent white of the room hit her eyes harshly and she groaned longing for the times when her dreams had color. She missed her normal dreams, she even missed her nightmares. She would take anything now, anything other than the blinding fluorescent light.

"Aurora." the man's voice groaned in sniffing snobs from behind her. "A-aurora please you must open the door please it's almost time you c-cant. Aurora p-please he's coming for him you must be ready for it. You must be prepared. Fufil-"

"Can you just shut up?" Her voice echoed its annoyance as it bounces off the white walls and the single oak door. "I didn't want to hear it when you were alive. What makes you think I want to hear it when you're dead?"

"It's happening tonight Aurora. Don't you understand I've made my mistakes but i-I see now that I was wrong but don't punish your ancestors for my mistakes. The sacrifices they've made for this moment. It is coming and with it the restoration of our unkindness." She rolled her eyes wishing she could get some kind of compensation for the amount of times she's heard the phrase 'our Unkindness' in her life.

"Open. The. Door" Her head snapped up at the sudden footsteps with each breaking word.

"Go away." Her bored tone trembled as heat consumed her, baking her. The heat around her was slowly dropping in degrees. "I don't want you here" She forced her body to relax, taking up the same position she held with every child psychologist, therapist, concealer, and nosy cop.

"Open the door it's happening soon your destiny." the malice in his voice clashed with his demented desperation and it almost made her turn just to glare at him but she forced her eyes forward keeping her bored expression.

"First it was Ariel she was your prophesied child, now it's me. You have no idea what you're talking about do you." She drawled not allowing a single tremor of her hot anger to escape, eyes straining to stay half-lidded and straight ahead.

"I-it was your mother Aurora. She led me astray. Why can't you see that?"

Her muscles tighten under her skin coiling and locking in place like a jaguar preparing to attack. She tried to release her muscles once twice then a third time but with each attempt, there was a force that stopped her and it didn't come from the scum behind her it came from the far right outside of her box. It was on the other side opposite the oak door with the golden knob.

Then there was the strange sound of galloping like a frenzied pack of deer in a nature documentary running from the apex and without control she gave her first real reaction all night. Nothing like that had ever happened before it was unfamiliar territory and she hated it. A new terrain appeared around her and she fell from her soft throne dropping onto the leaf-infested forest floor where dark blue tones surrounded her more natural than the magenta teals and purples of her bedding but it wasn't the harsh white of her prison. This was different, this was good.

She couldn't stand change. She was good at routine and order even if chaos was her own form of order she had a system but as she twisted and turned she couldn't see any sign of the oak door with the new knob or the cries of her father in the background. So this forest, whatever it may represent, was better.

There was a distinct sound of something, liquid maybe, being shaken then a groan followed by that galloping again and she turned taking a few cautious steps before the sound was gone almost as quickly as it came. The sound of the deer, that1 is, the other sound the more human one lingered. It reminded her of 'Scared of His Own Shadow' Bobby who she tried to convince was being stalked by a nogitsune once before Ariel intervened. Looking back it was cruel the poor kid hadn't done anything wrong but her friends thought it was funny so she pressed him.

Bobby was an asthmatic who they tricked into thinking that an inhaler had to be sprayed on his neck to work. He was such a small, easy target but he made such a huge change in her life. She left that friend group because of him after James and Zane chased the small boy three blocks away from his home. He had an attack and passed out and they left him there. They didn't call a bus or his parents, they just left him there. Someone eventually called for a bus but the moment always stuck with her. She later learned that he ran because they pretended to be the Nogizune she had planted in his head weeks prior.

Now she was hearing those same wheezing gasping breaths and she started to search around her. Maybe it was Bobby, he wasn't dead but maybe he had found some mystical way of haunting her. She had gone up to Bobby and gave him a makeshift apology that he reluctantly took. But she only did it because she wanted to look him in the eye, because guilt was a shitty feeling and she didn't want to feel like a shitty person. Sure she never went after anyone that didn't deserve it, and her pranking was either small or solely for revenge but she really waltzed up to him, said 'Hey sorry I kinda ruined your childhood. I've changed my code of arms since then.' nodded her head and walked away. That's how she handled it.

Hell, she would haunt her from halfway across the country.

There was a deep scream followed by crunching and crashing and she was suddenly sure this wasn't Bobby. He probably wasn't that petty, this was someone else lurking around her dreams and with only the thin knee-high socks and an oversized sweater, she took off towards the direction of the noise. Maybe it wasn't Bobby but someone had just taken a dive and she wanted to see who. She found herself in a clearing surrounded by autumn-colored leaves and thin trees she didn't know the type of.

They were familiar like the trees from… trailing off she heard a thunk followed by another groan and she brushed the thoughts aside.

Then there was the body she caught its eye thinking maybe that was the person she was looking for. She darted forward and her feet fell out from under her as she subconsciously tried to distance herself from the body… half a body. Guts and intestines hung out of the gaping cavity curling closely together against the floor of the forest and that somehow made the whole experience less scary.

"A zombie without legs isn't much of a threat." She snarked at the pale form as she moved to her knees crawling closer to the blood-splattered body. "Crawling with two hands takes forever anyway.'

Blood caked the majority of her lower torso running up all the way to the left side of her body and face. Grey lifeless eyes stared back at her and she came to the conclusion that Marve's eyes were Hazel because they couldn't compare to this woman. They were wide in a frozen state of shock; her lips were pushed apart, which wouldn't be a surprise; she would probably look like that if she had claw marks running up her mangled body. Whatever did this to her she didn't know it was after her.

Another scream erupted from the bottom of the stoop and Rory stood bolt up no longer wanting to play detective she decided running didn't make her a coward, it made her self-preserved. It was only after the third scream she realized how real it all felt. The twigs under her feet snapped and stabbed into her soles the whipping of pine needles and the dead silence of the forest. The breeze slapped her face hard enough to sting her eyes… she came to a stop when she realized wasn't this supposed to be a dream?

This felt a bit too real, too much like reality, too much like nature and mud and wood. Looking around she almost turned and ran back because if this was her dream then playing detective was her right. Then the howl came. It shot the leaves and branches and vibrated through her ears and she spun on her heels and booked it cause no… just no.

Her dreams were vivid but they weren't this vivid. Panic rose up her chest as she ran weaving through branches and twisted vines Lydia would tear her apart before any killer got to her if she started getting scratches and bruises now. She didn't need this shit anyway there weren't even supposed to be wolves in Cali.

Despite this logic, she knew a thing or two about wolves.. mostly from her grandfather's extensive knowledge of Lycanthropy but from that, she learned wolf's howl for a single reason and she was not sticking around to see the pack.

Her legs pumped faster before the white walls started to rise around her taking her in with a warm plain embrace. She almost ran to her chair longing to settle back in her chair, her feet still caked in mud and leaves but she needed the safety of the warm soft fabric when she stopped.

A new person had joined her father in the back of the room she lay there looking more alive than what she had just seen. Grey eyes, still wide but her mouth was closed tightly. The blood that stained her body and trickled from her torso did not leak out onto the white length of the floor.

Hair pooled over one of her confused grey eyes as they met Rory's. The woman used her hands to raise her body looking like a siren on the rocks before she opened her mouth "Help me." When she spoke she didn't sound like a siren at all.

The water ran down the length of her back pooling around her huddled body before fleeing for the drain. The mud that had caked her feet had all but fled leaving a single twig that refused to go down. She had been in her bathroom for the past two hours scrubbing down her body and getting soap in her eyes. She had pushed the light-haired woman down to the very depths of her mind along with the white room and her father's rambling. And now she sat on the tiled floor in a tight ball feeling defeated.

The wall of mirrors next to her only revealed how pitiful she looked. She could see the curtain of her drenched blonde hair. It covered her giving the same security her cloak had. It draped protectively around her shoulders, shielding her face.

She made a vow that she would never cut it again, never fantasize of turning it to deep magenta and royal blue no she just couldn't after all it had done to protect her. She would treat it respectfully. She pulled her knees closer to her chest as she made this silent promise to the hair that her sister loved to play with straightening and curling on the rare moments Rory would give her the chance.

She found her soft features darkening into a scowl. She wasn't allowed to feel like this hadn't she survived. She made it out unscathed and yet here she was on the tiled floor of her mansion cottage of a home and sulking. Did she even have the right? Did she forget how she got here?

She had buried deeper into her knees because she did remember how she got here. Living in a big house with a family who didn't know existed with her own bathroom devoid of all the hair care makeup and designated pegs on the wall. This bathroom was one where Ariel didn't even exist. In fact, this house and this whole damn town stripped away the very foundation that Ariel had created for Rory leaving her with only her dry wit and sardonic views on life. And apparently, it left her as a coward too.

She always thought that the day she and her sister parted ways she would go completely unhinged and call her to inform her that she might be in jail the next day and needed to be bailed out. She had brooded over Ariel's sudden decision to go to Waldorf next semester but now Rory would give anything to get a call.

"Waldorf is great, Rors it's the fresh start I needed. I can't talk long but tell Avey and the others I'll be back for spring break okay."

She would finally become the menace her fellow peers at Pence deserved. Then after high school when they were finally on their own, she always saw her sister coming over spontaneously. Showing up with a coffee and a scone and going on and on about college and boys and life. She was prepared for the random phone calls and texts the pictures of animals the 'is he cute' photos of random guys she wasn't prepared for it to never happen. Now she found herself clinging to her second cousin, crazy micromanaging a desperate grappling for a small resemblance of her red-headed sister.

The water became colder and she reached out uncurling from her ball for the first time in an hour to turn the heat up. It wasn't going to give up on her now damn it.

"If I can't even have my own daughter, why would I take some random girl?" The memory settled over her like the dense steam that surrounded her as the water began to burn down her back again. She remembered this well and as much as she wanted to write Lewis Martin off as an insufferable dick she let herself agree with his compelling argument that failed to be a whisper.

"She is your family Lewis." The woman, Natalie, trailed off her heels tapping against the speckled flooring of the hospital.

"I didn't even know she existed until two days ago and not only that but you've seen the news about what happened. It's everywhere. It's the last thing I need right now. The divorce was already messy enough I can't afford this."

"Oh spare me. I'm so sorry that this girl's trauma would be your PR team's nightmare.. You know what, I will take her. She'll be happier in the estate than with you anyhow."

"Aurora are you alright?" The voice was that of someone logically attempting to be sympathetic; she could tell by the way that Natailes lips pressed tightly together in the rearview mirror, she instantly regretted asking.

She stayed silent the entire ride not wanting to pursue the conversation.

The police car outside the large cottage of white lining red brick white pillars and dark green ivy accents, what she didn't expect was the man waiting inside claiming Lydia had let him in to wait for her.

He was a tower much taller than her own bastard of a father. He held an expression that Natiale had attempted in the car soft and gentle. Looking at her like she was that little wounded bunny that had taken a dive off a high ledge due to the gun held three feet away from her.

It was the way everyone looked at her nowadays from the EMTs from the bus in New York to the therapist like Doctor Marve that day. She missed the stern passively angry look of Principle Weller who had been throwing out threats of detention and expulsion weeks that day. She longed for the dramatic gasps and slow head shakes of Mrs. Warble beside him, not even being able to enjoy herself as she went to the full extent of Rory's record.

She couldn't even hold onto those glorious looks of disappointment and passive anger because they had ruined it all the last time she saw them. Their brows pulled together in sympathy Mr. Weller speaking softly and Mrs. Warble touching her shoulder lightly. It was just wrong. They had this look of understanding in their eyes like they had some aha moment that somehow led them to convince themselves that it was never her, it was her horrible home life.

She glowered at this new ideology. She wasn't abused, maybe overlooked but she got food and interaction. She was the mastermind that made their hair turn grey and caused their frown lines to deepen. They looked like they had all but forgotten that she was the one who put the naked mole rats in the girl's locker room she was the one who set off the Mentos bomb in the boys. It wasn't the bastard or some crappy home life, it was her brilliance that made them put something extra in their coffee and take a longer smoke break.

"Ms. Faith." he nodded, bringing her back to the present and her new reality. Looking at him through dark lashes and a curtain of hair she tried to see herself through his eyes. A girl who was wrapped in the same blue cloak she had been in almost every photo the New York Press had been able to capture of her.

Cameras had stalked her for days, never letting up, never relenting. They were everywhere outside the police office and the hospital with flashing cameras and screamed questions. All they received for their trouble was a scowling face and a 'no comment'; they never posted those in the magazine or online, just her looking vaguely depressed. It made her look small and her features didn't do her any favors

She wondered if she was taller to him than the photos portrayed but then she noticed she was holding the same posture. Her hair spilling over her shoulders and into her face as if it were her protective barrier of what the cloak couldn't cover. Her shoulder curved inward and stiff. She didn't even notice how tightly she was holding her body until she let go.

She let her shoulder relax and her head raised revealing a bored expression. She looked at him through half-lidded eyes that covered the majority of what gossiping nurses called hauntingly brown almost black eyes that were encased by deep bruises. A feature of her own design and not a black eye gifted from her bastard like the media tried to claim. She had been informed since the tender age of 6 that they were too harsh to contrast to her pale skin and hair it made them stand out in the worst way possible.

"Here Bunny, maybe some sparkling blue will lighten your eyes. They're all dark again, it's creepy."

"Maybe we can get you blue contacts like Bubbles! What do you think Rors?"

"I'm Sheriff Stilinski" He introduced himself with pale eyes, the eyes her sister would have preferred Rory had, they lingered over her face his hand jutted out strong and withered, a hand that had lived a long life.

She wondered what he thought of the angry remains of a bruise on her cheek and a cut in her lip but she maintained that even if he noticed these things she was devoid of any kind of acknowledgment. There was a flash of something in his eyes, anger, and that made her think maybe he was a father, maybe to a daughter or a son. His brown hair seemed to fight to stray away from the grays that were popping up and she knew that whoever they were they were a troublemaker.

Mr. Weller was a fresh-faced Principal who had a head full of dark brown hair when Rory had been a freshman. The brown had now been more or less eradicated by the grey patches and a young girl who had too much time and instant snow on her hands. She thought he would either go white or quit by the time of her senior year but now she would never get the chance to see. Her reputation had been more or less dissolved since the beginning of winter break.

The man oh right the man who was standing right in Infront of her hand jutted out had cleared his throat with his strong weathered face and eyebrows pulled up showing the many lines in his forehead. Yeah, he definitely had a troublemaker sticking around him. Anyway, he seemed a bit awkward now, his pale eyes jumping past her towards her new aunt, almost in a pleading look when she realized she was supposed to be speaking. Because that is what normal people do in a conversation.

"Did you come to make sure the newest murderer was done with her spree?" She asked suddenly in an off-snarky tone that was completely inappropriate. It made a pang in her chest like it used to just about a few weeks ago, the spark in her chest flickered. The way his face contorted like she had just asked him something scandalous it resonated in her and she felt almost complete again until it died.

Its death was short and brief as the spark went out in a puff and she was left with the hollow aftermath

"Well no actually i just came to meet you actually and to tell you the town of Bacon is here for you." He nodded over to Natalie again as a way of assurance of his words as his hand shook slightly as if to remind her that it was indeed there for her and not someone she couldn't see.

The girl paused looking down at his hand and she knew why her spark died. She wasn't being taken seriously, they just wrote off her abrasiveness as her speaking through trauma. Which could only mean at some point they would expect to see some kind of miraculous change where she wasn't crude and Rory would disappoint them because that day would never come. This was her, it wasn't trauma or some kind of depressive lashing out, this was just her. His hand started to drop and she considered letting it, before pulling out her own through a slit in her cloak she took in hand in a vice grip and her eyes flashed before they shut tightly.

"So I've heard so many times.." His pale eyes cast down and she knew what he was looking at. She could see the creases made in his brow as he stirred at the deep rips in her wrist, calmed by the days of freedom from their makeshift zip-tie restraints but still holding onto the red and angry indentations in her skin. "And I prefer Lovette."

"Right, then I'll see you around Ms. Lovette. Welcome to Beacon Hills. Ms. Marin." Nodding his head towards the moment he cast his pale eyes away from her dark ones.

She was pulled back when the water turned cold again and she decided that she should get out before Lydia's morning shower. She moved from under the constant stream of hot water and into the bare bathroom with grey tiles and purple towels. And looking into the mirrors that surround her she's reminded once again of her sister who always preferred her with straight hair and would chase her with the flat iron to have her way.

Spoiled brat.

By the time Lydia burst into her room she had plowed through her copy of Breakfast and Tiffany. She didn't bother going to sleep, not ready to face the grey-eyed woman again, and instead, she went through the life of the faceless author and one of her favorite manic pixie dream girls and after the ambiguous ending she found herself reaching for Mythesand the mythological but ended up with Pet Sematary she started in on it anyway.

"Really Rory Pet Sematary? Don't you think it's a bit too soon for the subject matter?"

"What can I say I have a tendency for masochism. Why do you think I've stuck around for so long?"

"Well put it away." Despite her turning her direction to her closet Rory could see the face she was making lips pursed together as green eyes searched through the treasure trove of new clothes. "I don't need you getting depressed on your first day. It's bad enough that everyone already knows your business." Pausing, she pulled out a black long sleeve with dramatic sleeves that reminded Rory of a funnel. She was sure there was a name for it and she was sure Lydia knew the name but she wasn't going to bother asking.

"You know Rory, you surprised me." The condescending voice of her second cousin filtered in as screwing up the picture of Victor Pascow leading Lewis to the Pet Sematary. "How did you sneak this past my attention?" she asked, holding up the grey "Drink Coffee. Do Good." shirt she had slipped into the massive pile of pleated skirts, camisoles, and sweaters.

"I asked for permission, remember you nodded." She had in fact not nodded at that shirt she had nodded at the Medusa crop top but Rory went ahead and took that as a double nod.

"No, I didn't. This Aurora was not agreed upon and as such I will be burning it tonight." Rolling her eyes she moved toward the edge of the bed. She didn't mind the micro-managing it reminded her of Ariel who was probably huffing beyond the grave at the fact that some second cousin who she met three weeks ago got to dress her while the sister she shared a womb with never got the blessed opportunity.

She was a horrible person.

"Yeah yeah whatever it is not that bad you like coffee I like coffee it do good," she smirked at the way her back stiffened at the horrible grammar, her glare turned towards her fierce and narrowed and their family resemblance finally showed in all its glory.

"I'm not even going to humor that and it's a guy's shirt Rory and I should strangle you with it but I don't want any mark on your neck before school. She ripped the shirt off the hanger, crumbling it up before tossing it aside and turning back to the closet.

"And don't even think about saving it. It was doomed the moment you slipped it past me." Rolling her eyes wondered what the hell she put up with it all for.

By the time she reached the kitchen, she figured Medusa was to blame.

She never really thought she would connect with the strawberry blonde with her vapid vain Regina George mixed with Heather Chandelier who played the part of Karin Smith. She played it poorly though considering how pissed she gets when someone says something completely wrong and they say it with their whole chest like Jackson. Whose name she learned before ever meeting him from Lydia... Screaming his name…down the hall... And on the couch and by the pool and in the pool house… and probably in the pool itself what she was getting at there was hardly a holy place in the entire house. While he wasn't the most emotionally stable person with a fragile ego he must have believed himself a good fuck with how much Lydia booted his ego. But he wasn't very smart. Maybe that wasn't the best way to describe it.

It was more like he was set in his way. He likes winning, being on top, and staying in his own bubble. He liked to keep his world small and in orbit where he was the sun. Everyone else was either good enough to be a planet or a star that burned off to the side with its own order that he didn't need to worry about. Because in his mind he was the sun and the sun was the brightest burning star. Which she guessed was why Lydia hid her brains to keep her shining boyfriend from being eclipsed.

Then there were the lackeys who always tried to hitch a ride with the apex predator.

They saw the rich pretty top of the food chain girl without putting together why she was at the top. They didn't realize the long game she was playing with each and every one of them. She had more or less checkmated the lot of them, crushing them under her red heel while rising the ranks. Even with the scandal of her parents' messy divorce and her newest wounded bunny' cousin Lydia stayed calm and calculated, controlling the narrative and keeping a vice grip on the grapevine snipping out the undesirable vines that attempted to railroad the girl's hold.

That kind of control and manipulation Rory could respect. It was cunning and calculated and it gave her a certain kind of giddiness to bring up a myth that most people assumed was true and watch Lydia bite the inside of her cheek or the tight-lipped grin as her friends began to agree and discuss like teenagers do. Then there was Jackson who, after finding out his best friend, Danny, was afraid of spiders, and Jackson brought up the myth that spiders crawl in your mouth when you sleep. She would never forget Lydia silently fuming before bursting out in anger and frustration before she finally blurted out that spiders were in fact more afraid of us than we are of them. And that they wouldn't get close to us even when where sleeping.

Rory practically vibrated for the rest of the day until later that night when he had to listen to the green-eyed siren mewling like a kitten under him because no there was no holy ground in the whole damn house.

In Rory's humble opinion, the whole property needed to be cleansed by fire but to Rory, most things should be cleansed by fire and apparently her father agreed. A scowl crossed her face as she was reminded of the dream that caused her to wake up outside of her new home. She was pleased to know she hadn't ventured out into the woods but she had still dreamed of a butchered woman. And after said dead woman joined the party her father started screaming about how 'it started' and she was to 'fulfill the prophecy' and be the 'High Seeress' of the 'true Alpha.' Basically the same bullshit she heard in her old apartment but it was directed towards her and not her sister.

In her anger, she threw open the cabinet with more force than needed and it hit the white paint of its neighbor's door, she went to make sure the paint was chipped and she paused. The bag was gone, the paper bag of her sweet coffee beans was gone. She frantically looked through the rest of the cabinets tearing through the crack and crevices before she bolted back up the stairs to where Lydia was examining the shoes before finally fishing out black leather ankle boots.

"Oh good just in time, try this on. I want to make sure they work with the massive bags under your eyes." She sneered clearly unhappy with the lack of sleep was having with her complexion. "I swear it's like you don't even use the cream I gave you."

She propped herself up against the door crossing her arms as Lyida carefully placed the makeup on the vanity. "Where's my coffee?" She asked after a moment, causing Lydia, who was advancing on her with her outfit for the day a black crew neck long sleeve and a dark green plaid skirt, to pause.

"How am I supposed to know, stand straight." Her chin jutted out, definitely arms readjusting across her chest.

"My coffee Lydia, if you don't want your Barbie to be a half-dead hobbling hunched back corpse at your precious school tell me where it is?"

"I didn't touch your coffee Aurora."

"Then where is it?"

"I don't know."

"Well then fine I'll go to school in this." She smirked, gesturing down at the sweater and Galaxy socks.

Green eyes widened then narrowed dangerously as she took in the full appearance of the girl with her unkempt puffed up hair that was simultaneously curled and straight, dark circles and the clothes were enough to be a Lydia Martin Nightmare.

"I will set you on fire." The words were calm, dramatic, and low.

"Then find my coffee. That's our deal Lydia you do with me as you please and I get that boujee coffee. That's it. That's. Our. Deal."

"I know the deal Aurora and I also know I had nothing to do with your missing coffee." There was more Rory could see it in her posture. The way her eyes flicked up and down in a dissatisfaction that came with restraint. She was holding something back

"Fine, I'll go check again. And I'm wearing my cloak so if you think that Slytherin green goes with Ravenclaw blue, be my guest and continue constructing that outfit." She could hear the annoyed puff of air as she strolled down the hallway and back into the kitchen as Lydia in her determination disappeared back into her room.

Looking through the many nooks and crannies she pushed down the thoughts that made her wounded what was on the tip of Lydia's tongue. Instead, she zeroed in on the bag that held her one hope for the day.

Finally, she found it in the fridge of all places she knew instantly that Lydia was innocent for once, and Natalie must of done it before going to Brooklyn. Trudging back to her room she found that Lydia had decided green would go with blue as the same outfit laid out before her. It made her suspicious, surely her cousin wasn't crazy enough to expect her to shed her cloak. Regardless she slipped into the clothes followed by the lace tights and complementary blue ankle boots that she supposed went with her cloak.

She didn't bother with the lace front; she was going to let the stuck-up brat handle that. So instead she turned to the vanity where a nude shade of lipstick and foundation waited for her and she for the most part ignored that too Lydia just wanted to get rid o the bags under her eyes. She didnt exactly understand that either they were beautiful. Pet Sematary greeted her with Lewis throwing the blankets off his body to find mud caked at the bottom of his feet.

Disturbing.

"It seems like you found your coffee?" Her small nose wrinkled but not at the sweet smell of the dark chocolate raspberry truffle that was floating from the coffee pot downstairs but instead at the lack of makeup and care put into Rory's face.

"Yeah, it was in the fridge." She drawled her eyes dipping back to her book with little shame as she waved the girl off.

"So then why aren't you Barbie Hmm?" The girl's voice mocked as her arms folded over her own outfit: a blue crew neck long sleeve, a plaid purple skirt, a pair of thigh highs, and of course black heels.

"Barbie wore some eyeshadow and mascara. At worst, she didn't need all that crap." Her hand came off the book to wave over at the makeup that had been meticulously laid out.

Walking over to the vanity she picked up the counselor tube. "She might not but you do. Those bags have only gotten heavier since you arrived." she paused only speaking again when she was unscrewing the cap right in Infront of her. "And you didn't sleep last night."

She wanted to argue but there was such a matter-of-fact tone in her voice it was almost like she knew so instead she smirked. "Yeah, crazy dream last night, some ripped-up body in the woods kinda something that keeps you up don't you think?"

"Sleep leads to a healthy mind and a good complexion so no I don't think I agree."

"So if an ax-welding serial killer was after you you'd still sleep like a baby." She stopped her application standing back from her work and gave a skeptical look before making a motion for her to stand.

"Firstly I don't appreciate the hypothetical killer that's after me. It's surprisingly unimaginative coming from you and secondly, I'd be flawless in my casket." She rolled her eyes, lacing the ties of the skirt.

"Unless they hack your face up." She snarked back and gained the disapproving duck face Lydia tended to do. She made a motion with her hand signaling for her to turn around which she obliged. She preferred Lydia dressing her; it meant she didn't have to make the effort. It was one less thing she had to worry about.

"Come on, we don't want to be late for your first day. First impressions are a staple."

"A staple? For what?" She asked moving away from her to grab her cloak from the bedpost.

"For the rest of your existence obviously. You're related to me so you're already higher than most but you also have to make an impression. Remember we want a survivor." Brown eyes darkened imminently casting away from the put-together girl in front of her.

Why did she open up to this sadistic girl?

"Was your stable finding the prettiest girl and school and beating her?" She drawled, changing the subject quickly as they grabbed their thing and headed for Lydia's Beatle.

"Not exactly it's called networking Rory, I've explained it to you before."

"And you could explain it to me again and it would all be the same in one ear.. actually that's as far as it would make it"

Green eyes rolled dramatically but she started the car ignoring Rory's attempts at driving. "I actually like living and since you've never driven a car before why would you think I'm going to let you drive mine."

"I lived in New York, you don't usually have to drive in New York."

"Rors dad's giving me driving lessons in an hour. What's so Important?"

Her eyes stayed focused on the multitude of trees that lived in large groups all around the small town. The trees ranged between thick and thin; she would have to look into it before she really went exploring through the reserve. She wanted to know what she was dealing with, no surprise like last night. The uncomfortable drop in her stomach came next and she sat on it attempting to push it down, sadly that only made it more volatile and she began twisting uncomfortably in her seat.

Lydia who was in the middle of explaining how the skirt was emerald and the cloak was sapphire and it should be referred to as such stopped her tangent.

What are you doing," she asked, eyes growing wide as she spared her a glance from the road. "Why are you doing that? Stop doing that. Seriously Rory if you throw up in my car.." She trailed off, probably thinking of a death threat to throw out since she came to the quick conclusion that threats and violence were the best way to get the blonde to respond to her.

"Why aren't there any urban legends or ghost stories In this twisted little town?" she asked, attempting to make it as dry as possible but Lydia probably thought she was in fact dying from the rising concern in her eyes.

"Wouldn't you know? Your first attempt at conversation was about Eichen house. I thought you would have done research on local serial killers." It was true and it disturbed her.

Because despite the fester pool of possible opportunitys the mother who was separated from her unborn child in a car crash the family of three leaving a single grieving father. There were cases were people died in beacon but nothing to go with it. And every good noval she had ever read every movie and show she had seen said that there should be that one place that was deemed haunted by the locals.

"I did." She answered in a huff eyes going back to he preserve if they took a right they would pass the spot the couple died. "All I found was small-time conspiracy theories. Nothing worth looking into."

Even though it should have been because past the road where people kept dying was the best haunted house Rory had heard of in real life. The hale house.

A fire that was deemed suspicious but never talked about. She was really looking forward to it but according to all of Lydia's friends it was just a house and that sent her high hopes crashing to the ground. Because it wasn't some Halloween hotspot or tourist trap there was no 'if you go out there in the dead of night you can hear the cries of the eight lost souls'. It was just the old Hale house.. a tragic end to one of the oldest families in Beacon Hills but nothing else.

It was disappointing.

"Then why are we having this conversation?" Green eyes left the road again to give her wide eyes and a small head shake that screamed her disappointment in an odd Lydia-specific way.

By the time they reached the school, the subject had been dropped and she had managed to push the dream down along with the uncomfortable feeling. By the time they reached the high school, she was normal again. Her hands clenched around the warm theorems that held her carefully crafted cup of coffee. She had even playfully dubbed the 'I don't care if we're late I will die without it' Lydia didn't like the name but Lydia got a full night of sleep so she didn't get an opinion on the matter.

A blond girl perked up as they arrived waiting diligently beside the curb like a baby duck waiting for her mother or in this case the mythic bitch that was queen bee Lydia Martin. Lydia took her time gathering her purse and applying her lipstick ensuring everything was perfect.

It was a power play. She knew the girl, Dee or Dia, or whatever would wait for her if she decided to recline herself and take a nap.

She wondered if she knew that too. Taking another look she could see one leg bobbing up and down she probably did but the status of being even a mere minion for Lydia was akin to sitting at the Heathers for a day; it's a form of immunity from the top of the food chain. The apex predator was one Lydia Martin and her clich did that make her Veronica or Cady?

Well she wasn't good at math but she did know about animals and putting up with a J.D. would be annoying to no end so maybe neither.

"Rory, come on." Lydia hissed slowly before showing the flashing smile she was so good at.

Two-faced bitch.. It was respectable though.

Her feet dragged as she followed the pair feet draggin' and lips sealed to the spout of her thermos. She would have cried maybe but her tears have not come to her since she was 8 and her father told her the villain couldn't win in a story or it wouldn't be worth telling. She had come to understand her dad had always been a bit of a dick to her.

Pushing that down she tuned into the frequency of popular teenage girls who believed lacrosse was a god-given sport that deserved doves and a spotlight from heaven itself. They were talking about who would get first line and their prophesied win for the season. By the time they dove into the players she tuned out again until a boys voice caught her ears

"Hey Lydia you look," the redhead breezed past buzz cut just enough for Rory to notice how much she had been lagging behind so she who was pretty sure she liked living a long life picked up the pace. "-Like you're going to ignore me" By the time the sad dejected words left his lips she had smacked right into his dark haired friend.

"Holy shit!" she screeched, jumping away from the guy who was apparently walking around with a gaping gash in his side. "What the hell are you even doing here, go to the freakin doctor that's going to get infected!" Twitching slightly her eyes felt strained and her hands, suddenly freezing, gripped the hot thermal tighter it was truly her only hope.

Shaking her head she was met with a pair of confused and concerned gazes of brown eyes, one big and wide and almost as dark as her own and the other just as wide but honey in the morning sun. "The gash, on your side, it's huge I'm not gonna ask but.." She trailed off as her eyes directed to the shirt-covered left side of the guy's body leaving no bite in sight which confused her because she saw it clearly on his side just a second ago.

"It…" she trailed off. She could feel one of her hands floating forward towards where the bite was but a very sickly sweet voice stopped her.

"Aurora!" Lydia's voice snipped from the top of the stairs giving the same wide eyes pursed-lipped head shake she gave her in the car.

"Coming." she called back while whispering 'control freak' under her breath knowing saying it out loud would lead to being publicly burned at the stake probably.

"You should probably get that looked at.'' She had convinced herself that he had probably just dropped his shirt when she freaked out and that she wasn't crazy.

'You read too many of Grandpa's books that guy is not a zombie.' The laugh echoed as she approached the steps and one hand went for the comfort of the soft fleece in her cloak buffing her still-frozen fist against the cotton she scoffed at herself.

After all, their grandfather never even believed in zombies. It was Aurora's night of the living dead binge that gave her the idea but Ariel had spent the weekend with Avey so of course she didn't know.. it wasn't her fault.

Lydia had already abandoned her by the time she reached the inside of the building but she knew where to go locker 304. Lydia the drill Sergeant in curls demanded perfection and knowledge.

When she made her way to the English classroom a dark haired woman led her while she brooded. She huffed and puffed both irritated and annoyed at the mysterious bite that cratered one of her new fellow classmates' side and the lecture from a very miffed Lydia who was not pleased by her spasitc bout of 'paranoia' with the 'two no names' at the entrances.

She wasn't playing the wounded bunny; she just saw a huge ass bite on the side of some random guy's abdomen; it really wasn't her fault!

"I say this on behalf of all of us here at Beacon that we are all very sympathetic to your situation and we are here for you if you need a moment or if anyone starts to make you uncomfortable please feel free to visit me." That's right she was the counselor of the school Ms. Something or another. She had met her when she first arrived to Beacon after the sheriff when Nataitle had taken her for enrollment.

Her brown eyes glazed over and she had given a soulful 'please don't hesitate to see me' speech much like the speech she was giving now. Being around Lydia made it easy to forget that her name was known in the small town before she even arrived. The small-town gossip seemed to spread like fire just like every movie and cliche said it would with that and all the coverage from New York's media and the specifics of her case forced the girl towards the shining spotlight.

A survivor, fragile, a wounded bunny, a victim.

When they finally came to the door opening it she felt like Miss. Something or another saw her as an abused dog needing to be consoled rather than a teenager that just wanted to be left alone.

"Class this on our newest student. Now I know that each of you have your own thoughts of her situation. We advise you to be respectful." she hadn't said her name like it wasn't needed because it was in all the articles and the headlines. Her name had probably been on the lips of these kids' parents.

"Did you hear about Natalie, poor thing has to take care of that girl?"

"I saw her today. She's so small like a little bird. How could a man do that to his own family?"

'I heard her father just went crazy. Natales is going to have her hands full with that one."

"First the divorce and now this. She can't catch a break."

"Did you hear Lydia had a cousin… yeah she's from New York her dad apparently held her and her family hostage for hours.'

"Her dads a murderer. Did you hear about her mom's poor thing?"

"My mom says she sees Mr. Goodman, the phycologist at the hospital. Do you think she's crazy too?"

"How could someone shoot their own kid? I'm glad he's dead."

"I heard he was shot 16 times. I guess it's fitting huh?"

The voices and words flooded her ears fogging her brain each with a strange distinctness of voices ranging from older to young, man to woman. It felt like she was reading the minds of each set of eyes that pinned her, some with interest, some with pity, some with sick envy, some with confusion, and others disinterested. Her head suddenly felt like a boulder sitting stiffly on her shoulders. Her fingers froze. The icy chill ran up the length of her fingers reaching her elbows.

"Listen, I want you to keep an eye on her. She's been through a lot and she's.. well I don't think she's processing any of it. So just look after her think you can do that for me son?"

The last sentence ended the brigade bringing a fuzzy warm feeling back down her arm. Her hand fingers clenched the inside of her cloak as she took them all in.

Her lips trembled. She could physically see her own pouty face, wide eyes with raised surprised brows, down-turned lips, and puffed-out cheeks giving her the appearance of an overwhelmed child being scolded.

"Oh bunny, show them the face you can make the funny one. It's so cute. Go ahead bunny show them." The excitable lispy voice echoed as images of her sister mimicking Rory's features flashed through her.

She was genuinely pissed by the sight, small and fragile just like all these people were expecting. Fingers abandoned the soft lining and wrapped around her waist, nails digging in through the thin fabric of her shirt to ground herself, to push it all down. Forcing every thought, feeling, and flash down. It helped make her head lighter as her nails pressed harder. Her eyelids sagged as the pressure on her sides increased painfully, her lips and brows dropped along with each other and she gave them the same bored dull listless expression that she gave the lot of them.

Nosy bastards.

"Well go on and tell the class your name and then take a seat..' The teacher, a chubby man with wire glasses and a deep red sweater vest, told her in a bored tone that she felt she had to rival.

"Rory Lovette." She nodded before making her way to the two free seats. One was right behind the guy she freaked out on this morning and diagonal from his friend. She considered it for a moment before Lydia's thorough bitching passed her brain and she decided against it. "Bitchy women." she muttered dryly as she passed him and she could see him jump slightly in his seat.

The other one was just behind that one so she took it and looked straight ahead, cheek dropping into the palm of her hand.

She didn't notice how long she had been standing up at the front; it had felt like minutes. But the class continued evenly as if it had just been second.

"Well, then I guess we can begin." The teacher took his spot in front of the board. "As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night." She suddenly straightened her stomach churning as her pressed-down memories attempted to fight to the surface.

In front of her, she could see floppy hair looking back at his friend who met his gaze. Her eyes narrowed before she decided it wasn't any of her business she just had a dream and she was going to let herself drown in oblivious water. This wasn't her fight but still all the insistence she had on the upcoming murder… she might have to find the sheriff's son sooner rather than later.

"And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus, which is on your desk outlining this semester. See already handled though the boys didn't look so sure as Floppy looked confused at his friend who shrugged.

Forcing her eyes on the syllabus she ignored the way the boy jumped again, completely obvious to the way his eyes roamed the classroom looking for something no one else could see. No, her eyes stayed on the stabled sheets in front of her. Kafka's 'Metamorphosis', Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, ' Catcher In The Rye J.D Scriminger, 'she gave an audible groan.

It was as if this guy and Mrs. Warble had decided to trade semester syllabus. 'here you take these and I'll take those next semester we'll switch there a sure-fire way to torture our youth' This was the exact list she had already done and she didn't know If she would survive.

Metamorphosis bored her to tears before she even stepped foot into Mrs. Warble's English class. She had picked it under the guise that it would be a riveting tale of a man turning into a bug. It was not. Gregor was in dramatic terms too normal to be a werebug. She had only gotten through the first chapter. She dropped the book as quickly as she picked it up.

Then there was Holden Caulfield she could have sworn he was haunting her. She had already suffered through his long dragged out dialogue once she was not putting herself through it again. She decided that she would either completely degrade the writing style or just fail. She personally didn't care for the sympathy the reader was supposed to feel for the teenager.

He was just much of a walking contradiction.

"Is there a problem Miss Lovette?" the teacher asked and she grimaced her pinkie sticking between her teeth as she ground down on it controlling herself.

"Nope, nothing. I had this syllabus last semester so I'm just thinking of all the ways I can reuse material." His face soured puckering as his eyes narrowed.

She thought perhaps she should continue when the door opened, the teacher gave her a quick glare before turning to the man entering the room followed by a brunette who nervously adjusted the strap on her shoulder. Another new student maybe? Good that was great actually she could be the new fresh meat maybe she had a tragic backstory to boot.

Her eyes ran over the syllabus again as Lydia's words haunted her a little too late "Be sure to keep that affable personality to yourself. I will not tolerate any more rumors, got it"

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

Syllabus abandoned her entire body vibrating because she didn't think they were still around much less real. She waited in bated breath as the girl neared the seat and took the one behind the strangely gouged floppy-haired guy. Her brow quivered but she let 'should be crying over his wounds' guy give the new girl a pen wordlessly before tapping the girl on the shoulder.

"Argent like A-r-g-e-n-t?"

"Uh Yeah?"

"Oh my god, like the Argent from the story?" Her excitement grew as she pushed herself forward to get closer.

"Story?" her confusion came off in waves, brows pinching together but still maintaining a polite smile.

"Beast of Gevaudan. He killed hundreds of people before an Argent finally defeated him. Argents are like a legend. Silver isn't what kills the beast but the name of the hunter." At this point, she hadn't noticed how wide her grin had gotten until it dropped at the increasingly confused look on the girl's face.

"I'm sorry I don't know?" her curls flew as she shook her head trying to stay polite despite not knowing what she was talking about.

She hit the back of her seat with a puff as her arms crossed around her chest. With the subject dropped the girl gave her one last look before turning to the board but Rory was restless. The teacher glared at her from his desk but refrained from commenting so she shifted her gaze still feeling the vibrations through her body.

She didn't want that to be the end of the conversation; it was a ripping feeling that split her mind. She didn't really know why but the girl in front of her was familiar in a way and that was possibly one of the most cliche things she had ever thought. She wracked her brain looking for a reason or an answer. Maybe it was because the Beast of Gevaudan was one of those stories that she read when she was upset. Or maybe it was because in the short amount of time they had talked she convinced herself that this girl had to be a part of the infamous Argent lineage.

It only took five minutes before she found herself tapping on the girl's shoulder again causing the girl to look back at her offering a small smile rather than an irritated glare and suddenly it all came together.

Her jawline was angular and full with high cheekbones and dark brown hair that spiraled and bounced and those deep brown eyes were almost a perfect replica of Ariel's which was demented in so many ways she should have been ashamed but she pressed on.

"I didn't mean to freak you out, I'm just a bit of a mythology buff and the story of the beast was like the first story i was ever taught." Her voice transferred to the girl whose copied smile widened into a full grin that caused creases under her eyes and arrows to form around her lips.

"I'm Rory by the way. I'm new too. This is my first day." She offered basking in how the smile grew, her eyes warmed with relief and there in that moment for a mere second, she saw a 14-year-old Ariel Faith when she got on the cheer team.

Swallowing, she pushed down the thought of how her sister's once bright, warm and lively body now lay cold and lifeless in one of the slots of the morgue in New York; she wasn't even buried yet still laying there until she could be put to rest.

"Really that's so good to hear we move a lot but I always get kind of nervous. Now I have someone to wade through the waters with." She nodded stiffly as red turned back to brunette and Allison was in front of her again.

"Yeah."

The day had passed relatively quickly; she had effectively eradicated the name Faith with most of her teachers who gave her enough respect to use the name she requested. Then she stepped into Asshole supreme professor Harrison's chemistry classroom. It was her fourth period before lunch and she had successfully avoided confrontation even with the algebra teacher whose wife had a bigger mouth than any student or teacher she met. How she knew that she wasn't sure but she did and the sly comments didn't help.

She quickly found that the chemistry lab was seated in pairs and seeing as there was no Allison in this class or Lydia and Jackson snatched up Danny she was stuck meandering around the middle aisle before as the bell rang.

"Take your seat Miss." the dark-haired thin lipped man told her, shutting the door and heading for his desk.

"Would love to these heels aren't comfortable but I don't know where to sit." She motioned around to the full tables of paired-off students.

He paused then slowly made his way to an empty row at the front his hand reached under the desk pulling out a stool before he motioned to the now empty black top table. Her doe eyes turned siren as she walked over to the empty safe setting her bag down she pushed a foot up on the bottom bar of the stool to properly get up to the top without physically climbing the damn thing.

He started through roll call the first teacher to actually want a verbal response before moving on her head perked up at the name 'Mccall, Scott' not because of the name but because of the boy who answered. She looked back her neck craning to see the boy who looked less like a mauled victim and more like a normal student.

Her mind flickered as his eyes met hers and she was suddenly looking at yellow instead brown a twin pair of glowing beams of light that pierced her and she flinched turning she faced the front.

It didn't take long for her to get angry at herself for having such a piss-poor reaction to what was probably a trick of the eye but before she could look back. "Faith, Aurora '' was called, grabbing her attention.

"I prefer Lovette actually." Her voice came out in a lazily breezy tone.

"Lovette as a nickname?" he asked in a tone any smart-ass would envy giving her a raised brow.

"No Lovette is my last name. I don't associate with Faith's bloodline and would prefer it not attached to me like the life-sucking leech it is." Her bored tone couldn't cover the steal that firmly wrapped around her original last name.

"Well, I'm sorry Ms. Faith but seeing as there is no note here from the administration I will have to continue to refer to you as the name written on the roll sheet." She nodded for a moment and he seemed to take that as her acceptance moving on to "Erica Reyers'' as she slipped out of her seat.

She had gotten up to his desk by the time he had made it to the S's and she had taken the paper and the sharpie from the pen holder to his left. She ignored his demands and found her name. Looking up at him she swiped 'Faith' out with a single stroke.

"There now it's completely gone. Do you want me to spell Lovette now for you or are you capable." his glare was pointed and she was sure she had just made an enemy out of the young professor but this was a point of pride.

"Go get your things and report to the principal." His voice was slow and calm, his eyes furious behind his thin rectangular glasses and she straightened, moving back to the front and picking up her bag.

"No problem I'm sure he'll love to know how despite my polite request you refused to spare me the trauma of hearing that god-forsaken name. So much for the sympathy of the school i'll be sure to stop by the counselor as well." Her voice dripped with venom and she was seething as she quickly retrieved her bag and headed for the door, her mask slipping quickly before she could catch it. There was a sudden pressure that rose from the base of her stomach to her head. The door that once held pine wood was now oak, the widow was gone and there was now a shining golden knob staring back at her.

"Just take your seat Ms. Lovette but you have detention for interrupting class.'' The words resonated in her dully and her feet took one step back then another until her body hit what she assumed was his desk with a thump. "I said take your seat." He was still speaking but the dull thudding coursed through her ears until they became louder and louder her mind flashed and the walls of the class fell away to a dark bog fuzzy and distorting to the point of a blurred background in the movies.

"You're freaking crazy! Ariel, I swear to god, do not humor him!" Her own voice came through her ears; it was muddled slightly muted from behind the door that loomed. There was another sound: someone was crying, sobbing behind the door with a pleading voice.

"Daddy please!" It shook and cracked.

It terrified her.

Her head was thrilled harshly and the pressure built around her ears her body went cold from her feet under the fabric of her wool socks to the tip of her ears. She felt like she was in the middle of the frozen snow covered streets of Brooklyn. She felt her hands meet something solid behind her. Her breath was labored and suddenly she could hear other voices.

"What's wrong with her?" "Is she going to go crazy?" "That's Lydia's cousin?" "What's going on with her?" "I think she's having a panic attack. Should we do something?"

"Are you alright Miss Lovette, do you need the nurse?"

She collected herself before ever speaking her eyes

The classroom slowly faded back into her view. The voices around her were real now happening in current time the class stared at her wide eyes and dipped brows and her eyes darted to the window. Would the jump kill her? She could only prey cause if it didn't Lydia would. She didn't even want to fathom what rumor this would start. What was her role today again lay low to not be a wounded bunny?

Right now she felt like a wounded bunny.

'Survivor', fragile, wounded bunny, victim.

Damn it.

Her mind raced despite the pain. How could she spin this? How could she make this into an advantage and save face before Lydia rips hers off?

"I'm fine?" Her tone tried to play off as lethargic as possible but the words came out more as a question and her hands felt like retreating into her cape like a turtle, her bag she was gripping tightly in her hand being the only force of nature to stop her retreat.

"I'm fine. I'm going to my desk now and I'll see you in detention later. That's fine.' She kicked the mental image of angry green eyes out of her head and her brows scrunched slightly. " But let's keep this between us. I don't want the counselor poking her nose in my business and you don't want your bosses thinking you deliberately caused a 16-year-old girl to have a panic attack in your class." she didn't think that what she was having she was happy to ignore whatever the hell that was but she was sure someone had said it so she would use the term.

"After school is an hour Miss Lovette." He nodded curtly, taking his seat and going back to the roll call.

"Now everyone eyes up front. 'Stilinski Stiles'." The name came out quickly and it was clear he wanted to get this class over with.

She felt herself slow as her eyes landed on the voice that answered and her eyes met with dark honey. He, ironically enough, was the friend of the puppy dog-eyed boy. It didn't take long before he was looking at her too. His eyes flickered towards her before his head could catch up and she felt a small bout of satisfaction rising up her throat.

So that was the illusive sheriff's son? Good, she had him in most of her classes.

That was until he quickly looked away from her his eyes flickering down to the long black top table in front of him. He kept his head down, his hand thin and pale scratching at the back of his neck uncomfortably before his eyes shot up looking at her through his surprisingly thick lashes, his head still pointed at the desk.

The satisfaction like the flickering flame with the sheriff died. In its last remaining moment, it used the last of its strength to crawl deep inside her and curl up into fetal position. Her eyes averted as she retreated for her seat and she dropped her bag to allow her hands to withdraw into the confines of her cloak. Her nails smoothed down by dark grey lacquer rubbed against the white fleece calming her.

"It's not like I was gonna suck out his soul or anything." Her head stayed inclined as she hid her burning face from the world.

A mental breakdown in the middle of class on the first day….

She could hear Lydia in her ear, her absolute anger once the rumors started. Maybe she shouldn't have dropped Goodman like a rotten apple.

Shaking her head lightly her eyes closed as she shoved the small fleck of embarrassment down pushing and stuffing it away. It wasn't something she could handle besides she thought bitterly, embarrassment meant she cared what these people thought and she didn't.

She turned over the emotion that she was feeling in her head and she ultimately labeled it as shame. She didn't have a panic attack; she didn't deserve a panic attack; she was articulate and she could run, jump and walk up a flight of stairs. And she wasn't laid out cold and barren stuffed in the confines of a small dark chamber waiting to be dressed, viewed, and then put into the ground.

She had no right… no, she was the one who made it out unscathed. she had no right.

Stuffing that down too she pushed and crammed forcing her mind to shift and change. She forced it to adapt.

After the role was called Mr. Harris stood preparing the projector and instructed the class to take out their notebooks. She copied the notes mindlessly up until the bell she napped her notebook closed and moved towards the door when a voice stopped her.

"Ms Lovette stay back for a moment. I need to review your work." She slowed to a stop fixing her face, smoothing out the lines of her curling lip, and scrunched up brows of her scowl until her face was a mask of apathy.

Turning on her blue ankle boots she pulled out her journal and placed it in his outstretched hands he opened it quickly his eyes running over the material his lips paled as they thinned and she kept her foot from tapping. A nervous tick was weak with asses like this; it was the blood in the water that attracted the predator.

"So it seems you got the material fine" he paused, closing the book and handing it back. "I will see you here after school. I don't tolerate lateness and bring something to keep yourself busy and quiet. And I suggest you go talk with the principal about your issues with your last name." He dismissed her coldly and with her notebook securely in her bag she stepped out of the class flexing her hands under her cloak.

She hated her feet as they led her as if having a mind of their own, a war path she found herself in front of the office. Her arm stretched out as she opened the door taking control of her body she steadied herself.

"Are you sure you're alright sweetie? Do you need anything else?" The voice echoed through the mostly empty hallway and she almost ignored it until a familiar voice answered.

"No mom, I'm fine. I just can't believe I forgot my lunch too. It completely slipped my mind." Allison stood in front of a red-haired woman who stood slightly taller than her. She was smiling sweetly with a loving gaze in her eyes as she handed Allison a paper bag.

'"I made some cookies after you left so i added those but I don't want you to forget again I will only bring it once." The sudden switch in tone didn't seem to phase the girl who laughed breezily.

"Right, don't worry, I won't forget."

"Allison? Is it your lunch period too?" Happy to be led away from the office she moved to the front of the school interjecting herself in what was probably a mother-daughter moment.

"Oh Rory hey yeah it is but I forgot my lunch and by the time I got ahold of her she was already on her way she saw it on the counter."

"Wow you already memorized her schedule, that's kind of creepy." The words fell out dropping from her tongue before she could stop herself and while her face could be masked her body could be forced into a state of relaxation she could not put a filter over her mouth.

"Open mouth, insert foot." She said the mantra out loud this time a bit awkwardly as her eyes fled from the wall that held a glittery 'welcome back students' sign.

Allison let out a loud laugh, an obvious sign of awkwardness but it sounded so genuine she might have actually believed what she said was funny.

"Sorry about her, she kind of has no filter. Do you know what the first thing she asked me was?" Her smile was wide and infectious as she pulled the smaller girl closer to her side as if trying to visually say to her mom 'This is a kitten I found on the street and I'm keeping it'.

"What was that honey?" Her voice sounded sweet but her eyes narrowing slightly, a reaction she got from most parents she came in contact with.

"She asked me about my last name. She wanted to know if I was related to an Argent of a legend that killed a beast, what was it called again?" There was a sudden stiffening in the women's limbs; they looked as if they were coiling like a puma who had been stalking and finally finding its prey at its most vulnerable was ready to pounce.

"It really doesn't matter, it's just a fairy tale." A smart person would have stopped there after seeing the sudden steal that hardened under the intimidating woman's eyes but she never really qualified as smart so of course she pressed. "You know the myth it wasn't silver that killed the beast but the name. It was my bedtime story when I was young."

"That sounds like quite the violent childhood bed story." The words were formed with a smile and she wondered if this woman was the equivalent of a hyena in her killing style because the look she was giving wasn't doing the job but Rory had yet to find a look that would shut her up.

"It wasn't as bad as the siren tales. They got pretty gruesome lots of ripping through bodies usually from the middle but mostly.. Well, have you ever seen how chimps fight, they kind of rip and tear at anything like there's no rules yeah it's kinda exactly like that for sirens." Her hands hovered over her body around her waist hoping to get her point across. Her gaze cast between mother and daughter who looked like they did in fact understand in one way or another and she smiled suddenly wishing for that flame to light in her chest that gave her pleasure when she made people make that face.

It didn't.

"I always slept like a baby though." She shoved in before Allison laughed again this time in an attempt to break up the tension.

"You really are a little weird Rory." She was being polite so Rory let her be.

"Allison i need to get home honey but share those cookies with," she paused casting her gaze at the smaller girl who felt this was the point where she was supposed to shrink away, she didn't. 'Your new friend. You should come over for dinner sometime. I'm sure Chris, Allison's father, would love to meet you and your parents of course. Maybe they can tell us a bit about these stories they told you." her smile was extremely hard clashing ruthlessly against her pretty face and there was a sense of radiating lethalness escaping her pores.

"It would probably be just me. The folks are more or less preoccupied with their own misery." Mrs. Argent's smile dropped slightly at her phrasing but she didn't press giving a nod she gave her final farewell hug to Allison and a final nod towards her and spun on her heels.

"Sorry about her." Allsion started the moment the woman was completely out of sight, her eyes closed as she took in a breath her forehead wrinkling. "She can be a bit protective."

"It's fine, I've seen parents like that before. How did your friends at your old school survive?" she asked in a playful manner or at least she hoped it sounded playful. Sometimes she didn't want to shock people but most had a hard time telling the difference.

"I didn't have a lot of friends in San Francisco. Not any that came over for dinners or sleepovers or anything. I didn't know how long we were going to be there. I guess I put up this wall and kept people away." She shrugged, guarding her true feelings on the topic, she was lonely and as a sign of good faith, she looped her arm through the taller girls smiling at her.

"Well, I never cared about walls or personal space. You'll learn." she smiled warmly and Ariel's face flashed and she ignored the fact that had she gotten her mother's deep red hair she would be an almost perfect match. She ignored that and the twisting in her stomach as they made their way to the cafeteria.

She didn't dare look back at the office. She didn't need the counselor and if a teacher had a problem with her last name she would take the consequences of her actions personally. She wouldn't let someone fight her battles for her, never again.

"Oh perfect, two new names to learn at once. It's a dream come true." The man groaned as she walked after Allison. With dark hair standing up like he pulled at the strands one to many times during his life that it finally submitted to his whims, pale eyes that sat wider than her own bugging out of his skull while looking simultaneously tired and oddly perfect teeth that looked to big for his mouth she stared at him for a long second.

"Your sarcasm resonates with me sir it truly does but I had to learn the names of seven new teachers and you have to vaguely remember two new faces I'm sure it will be fine. I'll make it easy for you Lovette Argent hers before mine. A and L.``Her voice drawled as Allison took her arm dragging her to the seat in the fourth row giggling nervously but she slowed as she passed the dark-haired boy, her eyes meeting his as he blushed smiling.

"Gross." Allison's eyes had drifted to him throughout their entire 45-minute lunch period as they exchanged small glances and caught each other several times. Truthfully it didn't completely activate Rory's gag reflex; she had read enough YA novels to be numb to the whole trope, two young teenagers experiencing attraction at first sight. The new girl and the shy boy.

She was being ignored in favor of pining so she started going into in-depth detail about the Carrie White massacre and how she destroyed an entire town, and at some point, she tuned back in. Her shocked horrified gaze was even funnier when she gave her an uncomfortably confused look and asked 'Who would do that' and 'Did that happen in New York'. She finally felt the lovely flame burning lightly in her chest as she looked in her brown eyes and asked 'well they did ruin her dress it's a pretty fair reaction', savoring it she found there was a small window of time that she could make eye contact with her new friend so she broke it and told her it was just from a book.

Now she was faced with that same pining energy but rather than it being across the room it was right in front of her because, of course, she took the seat behind Allison. She didn't know anyone else well, she knew the Mccall kids' name and the Stilinski sheriff's son who couldn't hold her was sitting to the left of the lover boy.

Her elbow prop on her desk, she let her head drop into her palm, eyes going half-lidded as pushed the glare off her face and settled for her bored expression she had been able to keep up since chemistry.

"Alright if you look under your seat you'll find the textbook I've so kindly placed there. Take it home and try not to mess it up. I'm looking at you, Greenburg." The teacher, Coach Finstock, according to her schedule, started bug eyes darting to a student who seemed almost unfazed before looking back at the relatively dead class. " Come on, get your books. We have a lot to cover today."

She leaned down looking under the basket to find that it was empty and as much as this seemed like a mistake she almost doubted it.

"Sir I didn't get a book." She called once she rose back up.

"Didn't get a book?" He asked sarcastically before letting out a small but unhinged laugh. "Yes, you did." There was a moment where the two stared at each other, her hand dipping down to the basket below. "Empty."

"It's not empty, I filled every." He was muttering more to himself as he strolled down the aisle once he made it to her she found Allison's hand raising bashfully. "I don't have one either." She smiled sheepishly and the man crouched down looking under both seats.

"Oh well no you don't…. McCall you can pair with." He paused looking at Allison for a moment. "Brunette and uh" He examined her for a moment before looking away, eyes zeroing on the buzz-cut boy whose head suddenly snapped forward, eyes glued to his pages. "Stilinski you and blondie here."

His head snapped up his face contorting in panic and he was seemingly trying to form the words his brain had already formulated but it came in stammered 'yeah okay..' and an awkward stuttered 'no problem'. He had repeated it before she interjected she knew when someone didn't exactly like her.

"Actually I think we can just take puppy eye's book and he and Stilinski can work together." Her eyes passed over the deflated face of 'puppy eyes' to the suddenly reddened patches over the pale skin of Stilinski.

The couch looked hesitant for no other reason then the possible chaos that could ensue. "Just think about it" She lowered her voice slightly, respecting Allison enough to not throw her completely to the dogs. "These two have been making moon eyes at each other all day and first it's sharing a book then it's sharing kisses and then it's sharing last names. When they make that toast at the wedding they'll say it all started in Coach Finstocks economics. Do you want that couch 'cause I've heard getting referenced at a wedding sends the same chills as someone walking over your grave."

He grimaced disgust and terror filling his already coked-out manic features. "McCall you're with Stilinski and switch seats too just for good measure." He shivered slightly, his shoulder rolling uncomfortably as he forced a quick seat change between the boys muttering incoherently as he went back to the front.

"Why did you do that?" Allison asked after a solid minute of her eyes locking with Scotts as he transferred his book.

"I didn't want to make Stilinski any more uncomfortable than he already was." Her tone was bitter and she could see Scott jump slightly like he did in English like he's been doing all freaking day, his head bending toward his pale friend. The corners of her lips curved downward just as Allison gave her a confused look and she immediately raised her dark pointed brow.

"What?" She giggled looking back at the two who are still bent together like schoolgirls.

"Nothing." The class ran a marathon and by the time she had decided she loved Coach Finstock and Allison was a great partner the bell rang.

"Read through chapter 1 to 4 we will be reviewing to-mor-row." His hand slapped the book with each syllable of tomorrow and she suddenly dreaded missing the man coaching the team.

She and Allison separated heading for lockers that fate had cruelly put in the opposite direction. By the time she had made it to locker 306B, she could hear the overlap of muddled female voices failing to keep their voices whispering. Her curiosity peaked the moment she heard her own name.

"Aurora?"

"I keep hearing Rory."

"Who cares, does anyone else buy that story of hers?" One girl asked and she could suddenly see even with the gray-green metal in front of her she could see them as clearly as he could hear them.

"I don't know, it's pretty sad my dad said the sheriff was keeping an eye on her."

"More like he's worried. I mean I think she was working with her dad. Think about it, she was the only one to make it out alive."

"I don't even think she was working with her dad. I think she did it. I mean look at her, no emotion would you still be crying your eyes out if you lost your family?" Some girl whispered to the few Lydia Minions she could gather willing to listen. "Think about it, she was the one with the gun in the end. Didn't she like shoot him 16 times?"

"Didn't you hear though she totally freaked out in chemistry after making a scene about her last name? It was embarrassing she sat with that new girl at lunch instead of Lydia today but I'm not surprised I wouldn't want her around me. What if she freaks out like her dad did."

"I don't think I've seen her do anything but look bored all day. I would have loved to see her freak out. At least then she would have seemed more human. I mean I thought I'd be more sympathetic but have you heard some of the things she says? It's weird I feel so bad for Lydia."

"Aurora, you've been ignoring me all day." Lydia the almighty snapped while keeping a sing-song chirp and the image of the girls flickered as her second cousin appeared out of thin air with only tapping heels to announce her. If she was a ghost Rory guessed that would be her trademark. 'If you want to be popular in this school beware of the clicking of louis vuitton heels and Versace perfume for once you encounter her you'll never be heard of again'.

Her second cousin clamped down on her wrist before dragging her only letting go halfway through when she was sure she was being followed. She was the dog trainer and Rory was the reluctant dog.

"It's come to my attention that you got detention during lacrosse practice." Her voice was that sticky sweet syrup that got stuck in your throat and caused you to choke.

"Yep me and Harries didn't really see eye to eye." green eyes flashed dangerously as strawberry hair flicked over her shoulder.

"Then wear taller heels." She hissed with dry sarcasm that Rory could honestly live without.

She missed the days when she faded in the crowd. When she could get her revenge and play her pranks with the simple threat of an afternoon detention or the decorating committee when they decided that being more active in the community would help shape her into a regular person. Now it would most definitely be traced back to her and if she gets caught it looks bad on Lydia. She hated the sudden weight of maintaining a good reputation even if she didn't even feel like pranking she might be up for it later and then what? Where her mind would usually be flooded with divine pranks but she hadn't thought of a single plan. Sure she knew she would muster the strength to play 'hot for teacher' during the morning announcements but that was used material. She had already done that with the wobble in her old school. It was pathetic she had gone a whole day, endured new bitchy teachers and even bitcher students, and hadn't thought of a single prank.

She pushed it down and allowed her face to brighten as she saw Allison who seemed to have no weight at all as she stared at the floppy-haired boy who she couldn't find herself escaping. She didn't exactly piece together that small towns meant small student bodies and seeing someone for more than one or two periods wasn't a rarity. So she saw him and his friend just about everywhere. Her original master plan for the sheriff's son seemed like a pipe dream which was a disappointment in itself.

But now as she watched her new friend and sighed she would have to make peace starting with the outburst in the parking lot while totally ignoring the outburst during chem. The moon eyes they were casting was another level of cliche, another level of love at first sight and she having demanded he go to the hospital for a bite he hadn't even winced at all day. As much as she wanted to poke and pride, giving him a reason to say 'Your friend tried to lift up my shirt' was a smoking gun against the girl code.

Well, she assumed it was.

So when Lydia finally stopped her determined strut right in front of the girl she thought maybe it was best she apologized.

"That jacket is absolutely killer. Where'd you get it?"

She asked the girl in that cunning sultry voice that Lydia Martin had mastered being the siren that she was. She must have heard the positive feedback a girl like Allison was destined to have in a small town, she was after all fresh meat. While the puppy was the first to catch her eye she had been visually prodded by half the lacrosse team. So this blatant recruiting wasn't surprising from the reigning queen bee who was simply snatching up her opportunity putting her first move out on the black and white checkerboard against her new challenger.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco." Alisson answered touching the leather of her jacket subtly prompting an impressed expression to cross the queen's face before she cast her glance to Rory and then back to Allison who wasn't yet ready for the full extent that was Lydia.

"And you are our my best friend I know you already know Rory so let me introduce myself Lydia Martin I'm sorry I didn't come and say hi sooner but it seemed like my cousin was hiding you away from me.'' Before she continued her flashy routine the strong scent of Gucci cologne and hair gel joined their little threesome and suddenly there was Jackson. His hand found Lydia's waist and he was almost immediately immersed in sweet smiles and Lydia's small hands and her eyes met Allison who looked uncomfortable but willing to play the good sport.

"Hey, Jackson." She mimicked Lydia gaining a nod of acknowledgment though the tick in his jaw told her the civilness was purely manufactured.

"Aurora." He nodded, causing her nose to scrunch up in distaste… "Be a good boy Jackson, your master right there." She thought but ultimately didn't speak it as he planted his lips on her cousin's glossed ones and she was going through a war flashback. The poor dining table, it would never be the same. Her eyes darted away before the horrible pictures came back and she landed on one floppy-haired guy, his buzz-cut friend, and a girl. Which was weird because while she wasn't a stalker she was sure this girl hadn't been around them the whole day.. She looked familiar with her all-purple outfit and hat.

"I don't even think she was working with her dad. I think she did it. I mean look at her, no emotion would you still be crying your eyes out if you lost your family?" The words repeated faintly in her head and she knew that this was the girl who had said it.

"So this weekend there's a party." Lydia started shamelessly leaning into her boyfriend and manhandling her cousin's attention.

"A party?" Brown eyes caught her own as she looked on helplessly, obviously having already had enough of the glossed-lipped and curled strawberry blonde hair and whatever Jackson was.

"Yeah, Friday night. You should come." Jackson moved using his fist to prop him up against the locker while still leaving room for Allison to cast longing looks for help towards Rory who shrugged under the warning look Lydia had cast her.

"Uh, I can't. It's family night this Friday. Thanks for asking." Oh, the poor girl. The poor sweet, completely oblivious girl had already heard the siren song she was already in the game Lydia wasn't going to let her go so easily.

"You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage." Oh god, here it comes the freaking Lacrosse speech she knew was coming the moment the new girl said the word 'football'. Jackson let out a bit of a laugh before going on about the sport and how they've won for three years in a row and then there was his girlfriend, preening his feather making him puff his chest like a horny peacock.

She wordlessly mimicked Lydia's boosting words, gaining a laugh from Allison and a seething look from her beloved cousin. Oh if looks could kill. The only one who seemed confused was Jackson himself who let his smug smirk drop for a second to cast her a glance before turning back to Allison all the bold self assured smugness coming back to his features.

"Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don't have anywhere else–" "Well I was going to."

"Perfect your coming!" Allison sent her another helpless look that was starting to become a staple of their budding friendship and she shrugged. "Just let it happen she doesn't bite. I would join but you know detention."

She watched Lydia as she dragged the girl away and a sick sadistic part of her was happy that it wasn't her in that vice grip. Something so small shouldn't be that strong.

She hadn't missed the fleeting glance Allison had given to one floppy-haired boy before she let the siren pull her into her depths. Her eyes locked with his and his doopy lovestruck expression changed into one of confusion as she made her way towards him. Twilight sparkle had fled by now and the two were pulled together whispering again.

"We need to go back. I need that inhaler. I haven't had it all day. That can't be good." Scott's voice cracked slightly as Stilinski nodded along. "Yeah okay after practice do you think we'll see-" He was quickly silenced by Scott who shook him vigorously turning him to face her effectively shutting him up.

"Oh hey uh new girl, your Lydia's second cousin Rory right?" He stumbled slightly and her eyes narrowed before she forced them to relax, sagging dully over glazed brown eyes she crossed her arms over her cloak.

"Yeah that's right Rory Lovette, no discernible personality but she is Lydia Martin's second cousin." They stood frozen for a moment as they absorbed and she let them until Honey's eyes widened his lips parting in panic.

"Wait, no that's not what I meant. I mean there's more to it- you. I know everything that happened to you in New York and everything not that that's what defines you I'm just saying that i know about your case. I kind read through the court transcripts and stuff when you moved here. My dad took you home yesterday, he's the sheriff," His voice pitched and cracked. His hands moved from outstretched and pointed to his hips to the back of his neck to outstretched again.

"I know that not many people have the surname Stilinski. I was actually looking forward to meeting his son but I guess your research of my transcripts must have been enough for you to refuse to meet my eyes." He blanched at her shameless accusation and she could feel the childish pout forming on her lips. Her eyes were still glazed and half-lidded; she let it happen. She was exhausted, she needed sleep, she needed more coffee, she should have just jumped in chem.

"You're pouting again, Rors." She quickly straightened out her features.

"So you're asthmatic? Huh, I would have never guessed." Changing subjects she pivoted her body in a childish manner she didn't feel she could help it she had big plans and she hated when things didn't line up. Flawless meticulous stitching was the name of her game. That's how she got away with coping every key in her old school with immense planning, so losing the favor of the sheriff's son was a failure. But she was not one to beg so she moved on to his friend who gapped at her words.

"Yeah, how did you?" he asked, trailing off like she was a magician and she had just accurately guessed his card.

"I have ears that work. So your an asmatic running around with a chunk taken out of his side you seem like the first to die in a zombie apocalypse and those sweet brown eyes are going to make it hard to shoot you dead."

"Hey no he'd survive he's got me!" Stilinski insisted, interjecting literally by stepping closer using his hands to emphasize his words.

"And yet you let him lose his inhaler and get a crater in his side, yeah some survivalist mentor you are he'd die under your care." She snipped, losing her bored apathetic tone and finding it hard to pull it back.

"And what he'd do better under you." He needed to back up his arm brushed her cloak and she bristled.

"He has a crater on his side. How do you explain that, Stilinski?"

"How would you even know that!"

"I saw it this morning.' Was she seriously getting into an argument right now? They sounded like Natale fighting with Lewis over Lydia. She had heard them fight and this is exactly how it went but her eyes rolled and her arms crossed nonetheless.

"How could you have seen it this morning? It's covered with a bandage."

"No, it's not its-" In her frustration, she pulled up his layered shirt revealing a bloodied bandage that took over the majority of his abdomen. She blink at it several times suddenly feeling the pressure at the base of her stomach this is not how she wanted this conversation to go.

"Okay, so it is. Sorry about that. I came over here to apologize for freaking out earlier but I guess I just did it again didn't i." Dropping the shirt she knew it was far too late to pull on her mask.

Shit shit shit what happened to the girl code. 'Oh yeah, your new friend, she just pulled up my shirt in the middle of the hall to prove a point she's kind of weird Allison'. But she had seen it through the long deep holes that formed an oval on his side. It dripped with blood. It looked nasty but she couldn't be sure now had the bandage really been there the whole day?

"I-its okay honestly you might have just seen the blood and got worried it's okay seriously." Scott gave a surprised, awkward but reassuring look and she felt a wave of calm that was not her own. Startled, she moved back one foot, pivoted behind her, ready to let her turn and run if needed. Like she did last night in the woods… no she did that in her dream she only made it to the end of the steps of her home before she woke up before she went..any further. She had walked last night with Prada hardly a trot as what she had concluded was a fox or something ran after her.

"Scott, no she just pulled up your shirt to prove a point." Stiliski protested and she reluctantly agreed.

"Listen, I just wanted to meet the guy who Allison was looking at all day. I really did come to apologize so I'm sorry for that. Bygones?" She asked, putting out her hand seriously doubting he would take it she wouldn't have but he did with earnestness in his eyes and an eye roll from his friend he took her hand and the world faded around her. She stood in a field one she recognized from Jackson's mandatory winter practices but there was no Jackson or Lydia or the team. Instead, she saw a boy, the very one whose hand she just touched, he was running his breath labored and wheezing. Stopping for a moment he hunched over his hand covering his knees as he tried desperately to gain his breath.

"Come on Scotty boy you got this just a couple more laps and we can at least get on the team." Stilinski's voice came from the distance and she could see him coming in from the left his legs pumping slightly getting slower as he came closer to the other boy. "The bench is good, don't you think at least we'll be in on it together huh?" Scott was still wheezing as he looked up at his friend, his outstretched hand before he smiled and took it. "That's the spirit!"

The two started again and she could feel his lungs burning and restricting as he pumped his inhaler but never stopped. Then it came low at first like a distant thunder growing louder, a constant looming growl. Her feet she had to move her fucking feet it was coming that fucking thing from her dream she didn't know how but she knew it she fucking knew it even if it wasn't she knew she had to get the fuck out of there.

The sound ripped through the air like thunder clapping right overhead, the kind that you could feel the kind that made you involuntary jump. She could feel her feet now as she stumbled her cursed heels working against her.

"Hey whoa, are you okay?" Scott asked lunging forward to help try to gain her balance, his friend joining the fray though he seemed more in need of stabilizing than she did. Seeing how fluid and spastic his body moved. Her body jerked away from the puppy dog's grip causing her to fumble yet again until the pale hand of Stilinski stilled her.

"Yeah." She paused swallowing, her free hand finding the foreign hand on her wrist and clamping down on it, almost checking to ensure nothing fucked would happen. When she was sure that she was just losing it her eyes zeroed in on him and he quickly released her. A distinct fear filled his eyes. "What did you say your names were again?" Sure she already knew them first and last but still she never asked and she needed to calm herself until the icey feeling faded.

"S-Scott, are you sure you're okay?" his dark eyes stared at her wide-eyed and genuine.

"I'm 5'4, live with a siren control freak and I'm using coffee as a replacement for melatonin so no not really." She shot him the same syrupy expression Lydia drenched her with just moments ago and rejoiced at the uncomfortable look that crossed his features.

"She's not a control freak." There was a distinct protectiveness in Stilinski's voice and she felt her eyes narrow, her muscles tightened under her skin, and her foot pivoted. She needed an out but she just couldn't end it here not when he was insistent on pushing her buttons.

"And that's just the PG 13 version of the list though it seems Stilinski already knows all about that '' Turning her gaze to honey eyes he shrunk a bit but with all the bouncing he failed miserably. A part of her wanted to press to poke the bear and see how far she could get. That part was usually the more dominant but with the thundering monstrous ringing still playing in her ears her muscles tightened she opted out.

"Your eyes are shifty, I'd love to play poker with you sometime." Once again she was getting off-topic. She was supposed to be doing some sort of makeshift apology for Allison's sake, not whatever it was she was doing.

"I'm going to detention now. I hope to see you more Scott. I have a feeling your prince charming role is going to make all of Allison's fairytale dreams come true. Have fun checking off the cliche checklist.' it was lame an out that she forced herself to take so she could be alone to collect herself so she could push that down to whatever it was. She would stuff it away as far down as she could manage and forget about it.

"You to Stilinski, I should have you over for cards someday. Maybe we could even get the siren to play then you could see what a control freak she really is." she waved them off and when they were out of sight she ran like a bitch but she ran all the same.

Shoving and pushing she swallowed thickly as she felt the dreadful feeling of being emotionally full. Her mental bottle was filling and there was hardly any room left for her to stuff… the cold tips of her figures touched the rims of her eyes. They were dry as they always were and she breathed out. No, she would keep stuffing and collecting there if she couldn't even mourn properly why should she be allowed to unpack her baggage?

She didn't have any right so she shoved it all down and shoved her hands into the depths of her fluffy coak rubbing her frozen fingers against the warmth of the fleece. She needed to sleep.

Sleep was still poking at her brain as she sat at the black top table hand pressed into her cheek teeth gnawing on her pinky. Her eyes focused in and out on the black device her phone sat on the floor of the car completely turned off so her mother's constant calling would interrupt Lydia's rant.

"I can't believe you missed it." Lydia's voice faded in and out. Rory sat hardly listening to the strawberry blondes rant about how Scott Mccall performed on the lacrosse field.

Her temple was pressed against the window of her beetle hands stuffed in between her crossed legs her hands were uncomfortably frozen.

"Nope can't believe I missed it either." Her words slurred, coming out slow and gruff. Her eyes sagged her head heavy against the glass she felt she had drifted off at least four times during the trip home.

"Look I know you don't care but this completely throws off the majority of my provisions for the season. You should have seen him, Rory. He was so fast and agile, most of the team could hardly keep up."

"Right." Her eyes opened a sliver trying to seem engaged even with the protests of her body.

"If he keeps this up he's going to make first line."

"And that's bad?" She asked, her head rolling slightly, to look at her.

"Yes, it's bad."

"Right." she nodded her head rolling back to look out the window the dimming light and vibrate colors of the sunset fading in and out before it was black.. Just black.

"Rory." Lydia's voice cut through the black blankness. "Rory." She whispered again, hissing harshly she could feel her fingers pressing into her upper arm, her claw-like hands biting into her despite the plush fabric of her cloak.

"Wake up, we're home." Rory's eyes opened slowly and reluctantly and she considered sleeping in the car. Yeah, sleeping in the store would be nice just going back to sleep back to the blackness that soothed her.

"You are not sleeping in the car tonight, get out." She wasn't sure how long her body had allowed her peace but it wasn't long enough. Her body creaked heavily, her limbs loose and lolling as she opened the door and moved to stand.

She felt old decrypted a sack of hot potatoes mushy and warm, her body sagged as she walked. She had left her bag in the car but she would cry over the homework she didn't do tomorrow morning after a long night of sleep. God, she needs to sleep. Her hands ran over her face and she just wanted her bed.

"What the holy hell is that?" Lydia asked, suddenly pointing at the chest that sat innocently in front of their front door.

"Oh yeah, my mom sent over some things for me didn't Nat tell you?" Her body straightened at the sight of the leathery chest that she recognized instantly.

"It was my grandfather's he brought this thing everywhere he went." dropping roughly she loomed over the chest, her fingers running over the 'RIF' engraved above the latch.

"I thought you didn't want to have any association with the Faith bloodline." Lydia asked critically, arms crossing as she shifted her weight to one foot.

"I never said he was a good person. He knocked the bastard around all the time when he was a kid but he was a decent grandfather. He always told us stories from his journals." she closed her hands around the clasp before prying it open.

Her excitement overrode her sleepiness as she quickly took out the pulled out the first book. Leather bound with 'RIF' scratched at the bottom she read the title and smiled.

'Lycanthropy a historian and she could hear her young lisping voice asking the older man what 'lycanthropy' was and his hearty full laughter filled her mind. "Well, it's a man that can turn my dear interesting creatures. Very touchy not as much as the siren but catch one on a full moon and depending on the week they had well it's quite a shift in personality."

"There are more commonly referred to as werewolves but there can be others but be wary of those love cause sometimes the bite can bring some very grotesque beings into existence. See it's rare but just because something is rare doesn't mean you should count it out Aurora my dear." she remembered nodding along with utter fascination begging him to read her the book in its entirety and he did putting the emotion into the words that made her giggle.

She tucked the memory away before putting the book back, resisting the urge to rifle through them and pull out her personal favorites and run. She didn't need to; she knew the bastard wasn't waiting to snatch the books up and hide them away; he couldn't cause he was dead and they were hers.

"Okay, so how did they get here?"

"I'm not sure. Mother probably asked to have them sent over." She thought of the ignored phone calls but let the thought drop and pushed it away.

"So her daughter loses all her belongings in a fire and she thinks 'i'll send her a chest of old books' not very helpful if you ask me."

"Lydia shut up." Her tone was cold as she pulled the chest in her arms moving aside and signaling for her cousin to open the door. She rolled her eyes but moved, clicking the door open.

For all her grouching and gripping she had only left her alone with her books long enough for her to move all her other books off the shelves. Her tight neat collection of Steven King, Mary Higgins Clark, and Truman Capote lay sprawled on her bed when Lydia strutted through the door opening the chest. Rory had chalked it up as the queen bee secretly enjoyed helping her organize her grandfather's leather-bound books. They had gone back and forth on whether it should go by title or number of pages. But now they had settled with Lydia at her vanity, a stack of books beside her as she riffled through the pages to find the last page number.

"You know 28 is a far cry from 10 right? How much time did your grandfather have on him?"

"I don't know, I think this was his life's work or something."

"His life's work? Rory this book is titled 'Mistletoe V Wolfsbane.' This had to of been a hobby.'' Despite her eye roll, she cracked open the book flipping to the end to find the last page number. "At least he had good handwriting. This one goes before 'Mountains cinders."

"That short huh? Well, it looks like you were right, 'Lycoptherpy and Historics' might be the longest one here." she drawled snapping 'Nogitsunes Evil Triumphs' shut with a sigh.

"I told you it would. I don't know why you don't just take everything I say as an automatic fact." she chirped in her usual condescending sing-song voice.

"You know." Rory started placing 'Nogitsunes Evil Triumphs' behind "Lycoptherpy and Historics" "Sometimes I see that overwhelming ditzy persona and I think 'I want to punch her' then I see your true beautiful big-brained self and you know what I still think ' i still really want to punch her'.

"And that means?"

"Nothing much, just thought I'd be honest." Shrugging she watched as Lydia took more interest in one book the just the page number.

"Find something you like?" She asked slowly, closing in on her cousin who looked unimpressed.

"No." She snapped, snapping the book shut before thrusting it forward. "Divination: Those Who See' its three pages less than 'Banshee's Harbingers of Death'"

"Alright so after La Bête du Gévaudan this was my favorite story as a kid."

"Some people have The Little Mermaid and you had an old monster book bound in leather. Some childhood." Her words were distracted as she flipped through the pages of another book from her pile. She was still muttering to herself as she held out the book. "'Onryō V Death Omens' is gonna be before 'Love is in the Eros." She paused suddenly, eyes shifting to the side, glossed lips pressing together.

"I can't believe I just said that."

Ignoring her comment she took the book and placed it before Eros. They had gotten through most of the pile and only had three or four books left to go through. "It's crazy to know how many were being hidden away." Her eyes caught the bits of leather peeking out from under Lydia's thigh.

"Wait, you said there were 28 but I'm only seeing 27?" The smile was already playing on the corners of her lips as she moved towards Lydia again, hand stretching out before quickly snatching up the leather book.

"Oh, what is this 'Sirens: Stories and Song.'? What happened to if I ever see one of these books in my school I'll skin you? Hmm?" She asked pointedly, gaining a glare that looked more like a disproving mother than an

angry teenager.

"Well, you're always calling me a Siren so I thought I'd learn what you're referring to." She hissed, snatching the book and resting it under her leg once again.

"You could have just asked. Sirens are manipulative, flirty, dangerous, presenting as something they aren't." She shrugged letting the book go. "You know the definition of don't judge a book but in this case, its don't judge the pretty girl. Bitchy Ditzy exterior with a calculating games interior."

"Do you think that's what Allison saw?" She had asked nonchalantly a throw-away question but it caused Rory to pause from her organizing setting down 'Love is in the Eros' she turned to look at the girl. She looked wistful and unaffected.

"You did come on strong. She was practically begging for help by the time Jackson wrapped you up. But that's just the mask anyone who's able to see underneath is worth your friendship in my book."

"I'm not worried, she is just a person of interest. A new toy to the population i just to ensure she gets the full Beacon welcome." The mask slipped onto her cousin with ease as she covered up any insecurity she may have let leak.

"Right, you really played me didn't you?" She asked dryly knowing that she only saw the opportunity and squeezed it for all it had. She ignored her picking up another leather book

"'Telekinesis in Theory' is going to be between 'GHOUL' and 'Succubus Seraphine' and with that, we should be done. I'll return this probably in the morning." She told her making a dramatic scene of dusting her hands before picking up the Sirens book.

*Right, well take your time, I'm going to read." Shrugging she heard the distinct click of her door closing and Lydia had gone looking through her shelves she gave a satisfied sigh. She had always wanted these books and it excited her even more that there were so many. She used to call her grandfather before bed and have him read them to her up until the day he died.

The bastard inherited them then. He wanted Ariel to be as interested as she was but she just didn't stick to the material like Rory did. It fascinated her and thrilled her and since she was the only way Ariel would even sit through a single paragraph is if she was able to listen to the readings. Until of course the one day Ariel refused she chose a sleepover over the stories and Rory never saw them again after that.

While this didn't affect her sister in the slightest it did leave her with a massive hole. No matter how much she begged, whined, and complained her father never let the whereabouts of the books known until now apparently. Little Rory was left having to find different forms of supernatural outlets. Which lead to a growing collection of Goosebumps and Grimm Fairy Tales. At some point, she had to branch out and latched onto older content, one of which resided in the form of shy, sweet, just wanting more for herself, telekinetic Carrie White. She quickly became obsessed with the book and watched the movie more than 20 times in her life.

She very openly favored the book and enjoyed pointing out the differences between the film and the book even if she had to do it alone. She had to watch most of her favorite shoes and movies alone actually. Her sister refused to watch any movie that was a play or book adaptation the only exception being the Mean Girls but not Heathers.

The thoughts seemed to be a connection in her brain a collection of stars connecting together in a string of thoughts that she already knew led nowhere good. So she pushed it down and went hunting. To her unbelievable luck her favorites had been piled in her backpack and not in the blaze of the fire. She had brought them to read after her exams since reading was innocent she had shoved her nose in a book to distract from her plans.

But Carrie wasn't among the withered group of books. It wasn't at the top of the bed or the bottom and the closet she had come to was Marry Higgins Clark's 'All Around the town' which was similar in color and just as withered but not the same in any sense. And while the tale of Laurie was one of her favorites it was no Carrie so she kept searching and searching and searching.

Okay maybe under the bed! No!

In the vanity? No.

Nightstand maybe? Apparently not.

In her pillows? It wouldn't be the first time but no.

In the bookshelf? Fuck.

It had to be here somewhere! Standing from the bed she rushed to the closest, throwing open the door and pushing herself inside. A lone blue backpack lay innocently in one of the cubbies and she ripped it out, opening it quickly and shuffling through. Finally in irritation and maybe to anyone looking in a fit of anger, she flipped the bag over allowing what was left of its guts to spill to the floor.

She riffled through old exams and assignments folders filled with doodles, journals, itching powder, handcuffs, house keys that weren't hers, a ruler, but no Carrie. She was at the point of pulling at the lining but the slip only held the key to the handcuffs. Dropping at the end of the bed she slowly came to terms with her copy being gone. It probably burned in the fire which was an incredibly fitting end for her beloved book.

Sitting at the edge of her bed she accepted its fate and it was just as easy as accepting the loss of her old life. She longed to move to get up and run for Lydia's room. To demand the Beetle there should be one open book store around here. But as the thought came it didn't process it only sat in her mind as just that,a thought.

Her back hit the bear part of her bed where the chest had sat, her arms extended until they hit a random book closing her fingers around it and she brought it to her face. Breakfast at Tiffany stirred at her innocently and she but it back with a groan Holly Golightly while being one of her favorite manic pixie dream girls was no Carrie… which was a good thing but not the point.

Raising up she debated digging into her grandfather's books looking at the perfect organization laid out on her bookcase of leather books with cursive titles but then threw that away too no point in staying up all night when she got such shitty sleep the night before.

Standing, she went to the vanity. The morning makeup had been cleared and she got out her computer to look up trees in California. She found quickly that they were pine a boring conclusion to her question… then the thought of the body floated back. She knew she had dreamed of something but she didn't know much about it. The school grapevine had been full of 'new kid' talk and not 'dead body in the woods' so it was the one brief mention to go off of.

Going to her curser she had gotten it half way typed out when her phone rang causing her to jump and look over at the side of the room. The phone sat of the bookshelf lighting up the leather-bound book.

"A thousand on that being her." she muttered standing as she walked to the phone and saw 'Mother' on the contacts. Sighing she took the phone, answering it quickly as she pulled it to her ear and she waited

"Look, she finally decided to answer." The voice was thick but still held that sour tone her mother was so good at.

"I can hang up." She kept her own voice monotone, not giving her mother any satisfaction. She was not a woman to be ignored but she could do anything about it because as usual, she was in another state.

"No wait, Aurora, please. Did you get the books?" The sound turned pained and whether it was from the wound cut into her chest or the obviously thinly veiled peace offering Rory couldn't tell.

"I got them, I already put them up, thanks for that." In all fairness the books were left to her it was stated very clearly in her grandfather's will they were hers she knew it her mother knew it but she still saw the attempt.

"I'm so glad I know how much you loved your grandfather's stories. I thought you should have them as a good reminder." she was speaking so softly that the guilt radiated through the phone.

"Right yeah I get it." they were hers anyway why was she pressing this?

"Look that's not the only thing I'm having sent over Aurora.'' She felt she could see her mother's face. It was scrunched up almost in pain as her lips pressed together in guilt grieve and drained.

"Yeah?" She asked dryly, walking back over to her vanity, closing the laptop, and putting it back in the small drawer.

"It should be there in the next few days and I know that you probably don't want to look in it but honey I need to look inside of it." Her words were oddly cryptic, a secret that she couldn't bare to share. "Please, I need you to trust me."

"Okay?" she dragged the word out slowly as she walked toward the window next to her bed.

"So you want the trust I gave you when you said you would be there when we opened our present or the trust I gave you when you said you would drop the whole making her go to a private school thing." her monotone words became venomous as the more she talked to her mother she was reminded of all the shitty things she preferred to avoid. The twisting deep pitted feeling of anger settled in her stomach, the pressure that tried to rise and boil a cauldron of things she'd rather pretend didn't exist.

"She needed…" Her mother trailed off recognizing her own venom and reminding Rory who she got it from.

"What did she need mother?" she asked, dragging out the word 'need' to emphasize the warning in her voice. "I was handling it."

"Is that what you called it? She was mortified she called me crying. She told me exactly what you did to that boy that she couldn't stay and proselytize such behavior. And I don't agree with your method of 'helping' either. Do you realize that you could have been taken to court and possibly sent to juvie? And for what misguided justice?

"Rors what the hell did you do?" The terrified voice echoed in her head, stronger and louder than usual. "I didn't want this. I would never want this! Let him go. Aurora, seriously this is messed up!" Her tone was stuffy with emotion; her footsteps echoed as she paced the boy's locker room, hands flexing red curls bouncing. "Look I don't want any part of this I'm going to my driving lessons this is just taking things way too far I won't support this Aurora. If this is how you're going to defend me I might as well go to Waldorf."

"I did it for her…So she'd stay." she whispered it came out squeaky and miserable.

"You did it for you Aurora! You did it because you wanted to fight a battle she didn't even want. You did it for your own personal power trip. You always do it for yourself you never take into account what Ariel-

Taking the phone from her ear she clicked the end call button. She had enough self-control to open the window before she flung the phone, turning away from it before she could see where it landed.

The air entered her lungs thick, hard to breathe, heavy as she breathed in and out. Rory was woken by her own body throwing itself into a coughing fit as a strong smoldering scent of smoke and hissing combination of gasoline and wood. Heat enveloped her entire body not giving her a chance to adjust as it increased temperature causing instant sweat to stick on her body.

Her mind registered it all as logically as it could manage as the orangey-red roared hissed growled around her, her feet hit the creaky wooden floor not registering that her own floor was covered in soft grey carpet as she screamed out for her second cousin.

"Lydia holy shit! Lydia!" She was bolting now covered feet scorching against the heated wood. A part of her wanted to make a smart-ass comment about her leaving her curling iron on but that was squashed by her panic.

"Lydia I swear to god if you're wearing earplugs!"

Her hands went for the door and the metal burned against her palms protesting strongly against her throwing the heavy door open but she did damn it where it was..

The wall that was in front of her door with its grayish walls and white liner was replaced with a hall that ran to a railing and then stairs. Turning back she recognized her blue throne and she knew she was dreaming because she had to be this wasn't the Martin cottage. The walls were dark wood lit up by the fire that spread up the walls swallowing the window. Heat still encased her, the heavy smell of gasoline weighed down her lungs and her feet took a single step forward back to her chair back to her white room away from this!

The crack sounded from above a harsh creek of groaning wood and whatever sat on top of it fell under the sizzling and popping of the raging fire. It fell hitting the floor below and narrowly missing the chair that Rory found comfort in. Her feet backed away as screams erupted they sounded as terrified as she was feeling as she gave a final look at the chair and bolted the fire seemed to find her following the path of her footprints and licking after her feet.

The dream felt too real too familiar the biting blistering heat nipping her heels, running up her calves she was almost at the stairs and she didn't think twice before missing a few steps. She had to get out she had to escape or she was going to be burned alive. She didn't care if this was a dream it was too realistic the heaviness in her chest the pressure in her lungs the tightness in her muscles as she forced her legs to pump.

She went down the stairs two by two before the staircase faced directly to what looked like a front door and she ran faster as the railing around her quickly got eaten away, submitting to the hunger of the flame. She was not going to be like the damn railing it was submitted and die no 'or' took a place in this situation she understood that.

She neared the door and skidded to stop as she reached the last step. The door did not match the rest of the house, the oak didn't match the mahogany, and the golden knob wasn't the same as the iron one she forced open.

Her head turned swiveling from left to right to find another exit somewhere else. Her breath puffed as the heat trailed up her back forcing her to leave the comfort of that final step. She was surrounded, a wild bunny stuck with only one way out of the cage. She had a hunter and she was the prey of this situation. Take the door or die. As if to truly cement her shitty 'Stay Alive' scenario a new smell added to the burning wood popping wires and heated metallic this one was stout it wretched her nose.

Burning flesh.

She was sure of its charred and blackening skin melting on a victim that she couldn't see. The pained screaming of a madman snarled up from a hall too far away to see and she knew she was next. The message was clear: take his fate or open the door.

Turning she took in the bright solid walls of fire that surrounded her stomach dropped her feet begging to run, her muscles coiling ready to burst out and run. Because she needed to run to the left. She assumed it was a living room, the recliners, and a burning couch giving a quick mental picture as she ran she could see the shining light of the moon. She rammed her entire body through the thin film of the door, forcing it to open.

The forest surrounded her now the thin pine trees she knew now and she turned to watch the house as it writhed and withered right before her eyes, the raging flames dying down leaving a dark partially destroyed skeleton of what was once probably a beautiful home. Her body was hot and exasperated now could feel the rapid beating of her heart hammering accent her heavy rib cage.

Frozen fingers pressed to her chest before creeping up to her neck rubbing against the sticky sweat. She was huffing and puffing and it felt in a way ironic.

"You couldn't-" The voice was frankly awful.

Her muscles bunched and she screamed her entire being jumped turning to the rippling distorted female voice. Her grey eyes flashed a deep red, her jaw looking unhinged revealing a set of teeth that would make a dentist faint.

"Just go through the damn door!" She screamed in anger hotter than the raging fire could ever wield. The woman's features contorted as her arms grew, elbows turned at odd angles as the muscles in her back and shoulder pushed painfully against her skin bulging around her. Her legs grew longer and the skin and bone snapped under her causing her to lose balance. She seemed unfazed catching herself with clawed hands.

Light fur started taking the place of pale skin then there was her face, her nose was becoming elongated on her face becoming light with a dark accent. Rory rose from her bed chest heaving, heart pounding she launched herself off her bed in fear the thing was standing in front of her fully turned.

"Aurora!" the door burst open and Lydia stood at the door. "What the hell?" she gasped looking around the room, her nightgown strap hanging off her normal shoulder.

"Nothing, I'm fine. I'm- fuck- Im fine!" Rory insisted, making it more like a demand, whether it was for her or Lydia she wasn't sure. She stumbled as she scrambled to her feet, slightly losing her balance she had to use the bed for balance.

"Like you were fine in Mr. Harrison's class today?" Lydia asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and the rolling pin in her hand bobbed slightly. "I could hear you from across the house. What happened?" Her voice cracked in concern as she looked the blonde up and down.

"This is harassment, I'm fine, and while I like your spunk, a rolling pin, seriously?" Turning she went to shut her window and stopped dead in her tracks.

"What are you looking for your phone? Because I found it by the pool earlier. I do have to wonder how it ended up there." The sarcasm dripped mixing with the mockery if they were the same thing Lydia knew how to separate them. "It's on the kitchen Island if it still works I suggest you don't throw it out again."

"No, I left my window open but it's closed now?"

"Well that probably freaked you out the window must have shut while you were sleeping and it freaked you out. Their mystery was solved. I'm going back to bed try not to wake me when the ax-wielding serial killer comes for you." Whirling around with the drastic whooshing of her hair Lydia gave a final harrumph and shut the door.

Moving closer to the widow her stomach twisted as she observed the latch.. it was locked... Her fingers stretched out as she undid the latch opening her window again and was about to force it down when something caught her eye. Two small red dots in the distance past the freshly cut back lawn. A sick feeling flowed down her body. Why would her phone be by the pool when her window wasn't even under it? She was to the right of it overlooking the backyard leading to the forest where the two glowing orbs glowed were meeting her eyes. Unflinchingly they seemed to want her to know they were there watching her.

'You see me don't you." a low man's voice told her in a whisper the statement it was not a question ticked her ears and chilled her spine. "You know I'm here." Her hands gripped the seal of the window and she narrowed her eyes waiting. "Stay out of my way little raven." The words became more unhinged as they distorted into fierce growls and snarl the way the woman in her dream did. She came to the conclusion they were not going to blink.

"I'll clip your wings and take you right out of the sky." She snapped her window shut, her eyes locking with the spot that was now empty then looking down she noticed that the lock didn't latch.