AN: Hello! It's been a while since I posted anything new on here but this is a story I've been thinking about for a while and thought I'd post the first chapter just to see what people think and if it's worth continuing. My plan is for it to be a bit of a darker story exploring some more sinister themes. Let me know what you think!

The adrenaline pumped through her veins as she eyed the CCTV cameras, making sure she couldn't be seen by them or the suspicious shop owner. He had been shooting her strange looks ever since she had entered the liquor store, probably because it was pretty obvious that the teenager was no way near the age of twenty-one.

She tried to look as inconspicuous as possible as she rounded the corner of the second isle. Now she was out of sight. The girl peered around a stand to see that the owner was talking to a tall woman.

He was distracted. Now was her chance.

She silently clasped the neck of a bottle of whisky and took it from the shelf, quickly zipping it up inside her bag. Looking back to the owner, she saw that he was still engrossed in conversation. The girl smiled to herself – she had succeeded.

She hastily made her exit, however, when she crossed the store's threshold, an ear-piercing alarm sounded, alerting the owner to her presence. Ah crap.

"Hey!" she heard him shout at her as she sped away from the store. She could feel his footsteps behind her but he had not yet caught up. She smiled to herself again. She had always been a great runner, she was even on the cross-country and the track team at school.

She continued to sprint down the row of shops, the owner yelling after her but she took no notice as the air blew through her hair and the adrenaline ran through her veins. She relished in the exquisite feeling.

Suddenly, without realising it, she had run out into the road, a reversing car bumping into her side and pushing her onto the tarmac. She groaned in pain as she landed on her wrist, though she was thankful that nothing else was hurting. She did, however, hear the smash of glass breaking as a brown liquid seeped out of her bag and onto the road. The smell of alcohol filled the air and she sat up as the store owner caught up with her. He smirked down at her smugly and she glared back at him.

She was in big trouble.

The Sheriff sighed deeply as he pulled up outside the house. He sat for a long time, even after the car was stationary. The teen in the back seat picked at her nails nervously. Her head hung back on the seat, stoic expression on her face as she awaited her fate.

"Jamie…" the Sheriff began. She met his eyes in the mirror.

"I know," she replied, crossing her arms and sinking back in the seat. "Let's just get this over with." The Sheriff exited the squad car and pulled open the back door, waiting for the teen to get out. Her wrist was still hurting, and she held it tightly in her other hand.

The front door was already open by the time they made it across the drive, and Sheriff Stilinski squeezed the girl's shoulder as they approached the fuming woman.

"Hi Melissa," the Sheriff said, his cheeks forming an apologetic smile. Jamie didn't look up at her mother, but she could still feel her eyes on her. She could feel the dampness of her bag against her back where the spilt whisky had soaked through. "Jamie, why don't you go up to your room so I can talk to your mom?" The sixteen-year-old didn't hesitate as she squeezed passed her angry mother and raced upstairs.

She couldn't make out all of the conversation that was going on downstairs, but she didn't care. Jamie McCall was used to the Sheriff having these kinds of chats with her mother. It was only last month he had caught her smoking out in the preserve with some friends. Six months ago she would've begged the Sheriff not to inform her mother of her extracurricular activities, but now she couldn't have cared less about it. By now she was used to her mother's disappointment.

The teen reached inside the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a cigarette and her lighter. She'd managed to keep them hidden from Sheriff Stilinski. Frowning at her bruised wrist, she lit up, breathing the nicotine deep into her lungs as she heard the door slam shut beneath her. Within less than a minute her mother was standing in the doorway.

"Are you kidding?" Melissa McCall asked incredulously, staring at the cigarette between her teenage daughter's lips. The teen rolled her eyes as she breathed out a cloud of smoke and leaned over to her window, unlatched the bolt and pushed it open.

"Happy?" she asked back, kicking off her boots and crossing her feet on top of her desk. Melissa marched over to the desk and snatched the cigarette out from between her daughter's fingers and flung it out of the window.

"No, Jamie," Melissa signed. "I'm not happy. Not happy at all." The teen crossed her arms over her chest, a chill filling the room from the open window. "What's happened to you this last year?" Jamie rolled her eyes, not in the mood for a lecture from her mother.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied sullenly, pulling her denim jacket tighter around her shoulders. It had been her father's jacket, the loose threads and darned elbows showing its age. Her mother always seemed to be in a bad mood when she wore it.

Melissa sighed again as she kept her expression hard, though inside she felt a deep sense of sadness. A sadness at not being able to reach her daughter. A profound sense of loss for what their relationship had once been. "I need you to talk to me, kiddo," she said finally. "Tell me why you keep doing this. Help me understand why you've been acting this way." Her eyes were pleading now. Jamie kept her eyes on the ground as she scoffed.

"Sorry I'm not as perfect as Scott," she mumbled. Melissa shook her head.

"I don't expect either of you to be perfect," Melissa replied. "But now I've got you smoking, and stealing, and getting driven home by the Sheriff every other day, and I've had enough." Jamie's eye snapped up to meet her mother's, stony expression in place.

"What are you gonna do then?" the teen challenged. "Send me away like you sent Dad away?" A flash of hurt crossed Melissa's expression, something deep within her twisting in a painful way. She took a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood over her daughter.

"You're grounded," she said sternly. "Two weeks." Jamie frowned, standing up to face her mother.

"But it's Lydia's party on Friday," the teen protested, raising her voice.

"I don't care," Melissa shouted back. "You go to school, you go to work, you come home. That's it." The mother and daughter held each other's stare intensely for a long while before the teen finally backed down, an angered look plastered across her face.

"Whatever," she spat, dropping back onto her chair, eyes back on the floor. Melissa shook her head as she backed out of the door. It had been a long day, and she still had a long night at the hospital ahead of her.

"And wash that jacket," Melissa added, turning from her daughter. "You smell like the ER on a Friday night." Jamie scowled at her mother as she exited the room, her foul mood declining even further as she stripped off her jacket and threw it against the wall with a loud groan.

Scott McCall wasn't sure what he was expecting when he entered his home that evening after work. Stiles had texted him multiple times to let him know his dad had picked up his sister from an off licence downtown. Scott had brushed it off as nothing, though he was more concerned than he was willing to let his best friend know. Something was going on with his sister, and if the shouting matches he'd witnessed between the two women he shared a house with was anything to go on, his mother wasn't having a great time of it either.

But Scott couldn't let this bother him too much. He'd resigned to play Switzerland, not take a side and not get involved with the drama. Besides, he had more important things to worry about, like making first line this season.

He pulled the front door closed behind him, surprised to not be greeted with the sound of yelling voices, but unsurprised to hear the sound of heavy music blaring from upstairs. His mother must've been out.

Scott hurried up the stairs, eager to get to bed as soon as possible. He stopped at his sister's door, knocking tentatively.

"What?" shouted a voice from within. Scott gently pushed open the door and peered in. Jamie sat at the window, elbows on the ledge as she leaned out. Her back was to Scott, but from the smell of smoke that filled the room, he knew she'd have a cigarette between her lips.

"Where's Mom," Scott asked, deciding not to mention the cigarette. Jamie wasn't exactly the soft, caring, and mild-tempered type of sister, and he knew when to pick his battles.

"Work," she drawled back, her head turning slightly in his direction as she answered, her face illuminating in the moonlight. Scott frowned at the streaks of black running down her cheeks and the puffiness around her eyes. She'd been crying.

"Are you… okay?" he asked carefully, his posture awkward as he stood at her door. She quickly turned her face back to the window.

"I'm fine," she said. Scott nodded. There was a long pause as the siblings sat in silence, the void between them seeming to deepen with every second. "Did you want something else?" she said finally, a harsh edge to her voice.

"No," Scott replied. "I'm gonna turn in, I wanna get an early night." Jamie huffed, leaning forward to turn the radio down with a roll of her eyes. "Thanks," he said, surprised by her actions. "I'm trying out for lacrosse tomorrow."

"I don't care," she replied bluntly. Scott took that as his cue to leave, smiling tightly at her before he backed out of the room, letting the door shut behind him.

Jamie continued to smoke at the window. She maneuvered her body so that she was sitting on the window ledge, her legs resting on the lower roof beneath her as she stared out into the night. She hated fighting with her mother. It always left her with a hollow feeling inside of herself - a feeling of loneliness she couldn't shake. But she was a stubborn individual. If someone wanted to challenge her on her actions, she wouldn't back down.

She let the remainder of her tears fall silently down her cheeks, dragging the thick layer of eyeliner with them. Just as she was about to shuffle herself back into her room, she heard the sound of an approaching engine, her eyes narrowing at the sight of a baby blue jeep pulling up outside the house.

What the hell was he doing here.

The awkward teen exited his vehicle and made his way up to the house, disappearing under the porch and out of Jamie's view. Next, she heard footsteps in the hallway as her brother scampered down the stairs.

She rolled her eyes as she finished off her cigarette, waiting for the sound of the inevitable meeting. After a beat, she heard a scream, followed by "Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!" from her brother. The pair talked briefly, but Jamie didn't care to pay attention to what they were saying. Not before long they were climbing into the jeep and driving away.

Jamie sighed, tossing her finished cigarette off the roof and climbing back inside.

"Maybe you could get a ride with Scott today," Melissa suggested as she dropped her bag onto the kitchen counter, exhausted from her long night at the hospital.

"Jackson's picking me up," Jamie replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder as the Porsche pulled up outside her house.

"See you at school," Scott said as she made her way out the door.

"Whatever," she replied, making her way outside. The baby blue jeep pulled up just as she pulled open Jackson's door, a head poking out the window as the boy waved at her.

"Hey Jamie," Stiles greeted cheerily. Jamie met his eyes with a harsh stare, ignoring the greeting as she slid into the car and the pair sped off.

Jackson Whittemore sat in the driver's seat, a tightness in his jaw that seemed to always be there. His arms were clad in the sleeves of his dark jacket, one hand loosely placed on the wheel as they drove towards Beacon Hills High School.

"Here," he said, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and tossing it into Jamie's lap. "Don't even think about lighting up in the Porsche." Jamie raised a brow, tucking them into the pocket of her bomber jacket.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied sarcastically. Her hand held her wrist tightly, rubbing small circles onto the bones beneath the skin. It was still bothering her after the hard fall she'd had the previous day.

"What happened there?" Jackson asked, shooting her a questioning look, his tone implying he only moderately cared for the answer.

"Got busted yesterday at the liquor store," she replied. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"If you wanted whiskey, I could've just got it off my dad," he replied. Jamie let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she sunk into her seat.

"I don't need favours from you," she said defiantly. Jackson scoffed, raising a brow at the girl next to him.

"I'll take those cigarettes back then," he replied, holding out a hand in her direction as a smirk pulled at his lips. She swatted it away with a distasteful look.

"Point taken," Jamie replied. The pair fell into a comfortable silence as they pulled into the school parking lot, heading to Jackson's usual space. She groaned at the sight of the jeep pulling up next to them and swiftly exited the vehicle.

"Dude! Watch the paint job," she heard Jackson bark as his door bumped her brother's side. She glanced over to catch Scott's eye briefly, his expression offended as she shot him a harsh look.

"Let's go, Jackson," she stated, diffusing the situation quickly as she pulled her friend away from Scott. Jackson shot her an annoyed look but let her lead him away towards the school. "You know," she started. "You don't have to torture my brother this semester. That's kinda my jurisdiction."

"Whatever, McCall," Jackson replied as they entered the school and made their way towards the lockers. Just as Jamie was grabbing the books she needed for the day she caught sight of a certain strawberry blonde haired girl making her entrance.

Lydia Martin strode through the corridor as if it was a catwalk, making a beeline for the pair.

"Nice to see you made an effort for the first day back," Lydia said with a tight smile as she looked Jamie up and down. Jamie's attire of black ripped jeans and her father's denim jacket weren't exactly the style Lydia approved of. It was still damp in places from when she'd hastily put it through the wash the night before.

"Hello Lydia," Jamie greeted boredly, ignoring the dig. Jackson's arm was now snaked around her waist and Lydia pulled his face towards her, drawing him into a deep kiss. Jamie scowled at them before slamming her locker shut.

"I'll see you at lunch," she drawled bluntly, turning away from the couple. Jackson caught her arm as she started to walk away, turning her back around.

"You coming to practice later?" he asked, his girlfriend still held tightly in his arm. His eyes looked almost hopeful. Pleading, even.

"Did I die and come back as someone who cares about lacrosse?" Jamie retorted. Jackson's expression fell, and he seemed almost disappointed.

"Right," he replied flatly "I guess I'll see you later then." With that, she turned away again and made her way to class, feeling the eyes of Jackson Whittemore on her back the whole way down the corridor.

Stiles Stilinski walked through the high school halls, his mind swimming with thoughts on what had happened the previous night, especially considering his best friend was convinced he had been bitten by a wolf. But that was impossible. There were no wolves in California. At least as far as he was aware.

Suddenly a hand snapped out and grabbed his shoulder. Stiles yelped as he was pulled from the corridor into an empty classroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Hello Stiles," Jamie greeted. Stiles released a breath.

"You scared the crap out of me," he replied, relief flooding over him. "I thought you were…" He stopped himself. "Never mind."

"Have you got my chemistry paper?" she asked, urgency in her voice. "Mr Harris is on my ass about it." Stiles sighed, pulling the paper out of his bag and handing it over to her. She scanned through it quickly, seeming to approve of what he'd written.

"Have you got my money?" he asked expectantly. Jamie stuffed the paper into her bag and pulled out her purse, picking out some notes.

"I'm ten bucks short. Is fifteen enough?" she asked, holding out the money. Stiles snatched it from her hand.

"I guess I might need to start doing your math homework too," he retorted. "We agreed forty."

"I know," Jamie sighed, running a stressed hand through her hair. "I had the money but I had to pay your dad back for – ".

"Right, the whisky you stole yesterday," Stiles finished for her. Jamie glared back at him, her eyes narrowing with contempt. The awkward teen sighed. "Fine." He thought for a moment, flicking the notes of money through his fingers. "There is something else you can do for me." He smirked back at her, his eyes glinting. Jamie scoffed.

"In your dreams, asshole," she shot back, her voice seeping with disgust as she shoved him against the wall. Stiles' eyes widened.

"No, no," he repeated, holding his hands up as if to beg for mercy. "Oh god no, I didn't mean that." She backed off a little, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised a brow at him.

"What do you want then?" she questioned. Stiles shook himself off.

"I was just wondering…" he trailed off, a flush of red creeping across his cheeks. "I was wondering if you could talk to Lydia about me?" Jamie frowned.

"What?"

"You know, like, mention my name," he explained. "Let her know I exist."

"She knows you exist," she shot back boredly.

"Really?" Stiles asked gleefully. Jamie rolled her eyes at the teen before her.

"You know she's dating Jackson, right?" she pointed out. Stiles expression fell.

"Yeah, I was aware, thanks," he replied sarcastically, his voice sounding far less excited than he had a few moments before. Jamie sighed.

"Fine, I'll talk to her," she gave in. "Are we done here?" Stiles nodded and they exited the classroom.

"Hey, have you talked to the new girl yet?" Stiles asked absentmindedly as they walked down the corridor. Jamie cast her mind back to English class earlier on in the day when a brunette girl, Allison, had been introduced. From the dorky grin she'd seen her brother wearing she knew he'd already developed a crush. It made her want to vomit.

"Not really," she replied, wanting to ditch the conversation and Stiles as soon as possible.

"But she's already in your clique?" Stiles questioned. She snorted.

"I'm not in a clique," Jamie replied.

"But you're friends with Lydia and Jackson?" he asked, growing confused. Jamie stopped and glared at him.

"I'm friends with Jackson," she corrected him. "I tolerate Lydia." Stiles' face grew sour, as if the possibility of someone not adoring Lydia Martin as much as he did was impossible. Maybe even offensive.

"Yeah, why are you friends with Jackson again?" Stiles shot back, blowing out a puff of air. "He's a dick to everybody, including Scott." Jamie's expression grew shocked for a split second, before hardening again. Stiles usually didn't have the nerve to talk to her like that.

"Whatever, Stiles," she spat back at him, schooling her features to try to appear nonchalant. "And if you breathe a word to anyone about our little homework arrangement, especially Scott, I'll –".

"You'll what?" Stiles raised a brow at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. She huffed, clearly annoyed, but didn't answer. She simply turned on her heel and strode away without another word.