TW for this story: underage drinking and recreational drug use.
Jamie McCall sauntered through the trees, her heels sinking into the dirt beneath the rotting leaves that had fallen months ago. She'd skipped the last class of the day, telling the teacher she had a doctor's appointment after school she needed to get to. The note she forged in her mother's handwriting had helped secure the validity of her excuse. She knew if she'd stayed until the end, she'd have been forced to attend the lacrosse practice, and there was no way she was spending precious hours before work watching her brother and Stiles make a fool of themselves. Even watching Jackson who was actually good at lacrosse was tedious, and she wondered where Lydia managed to find the enthusiasm to sit through it.
The dark-haired teen loved coming out to the preserve, for the sole reason of privacy. She wasn't a particular fan of the outdoors but coming out into the woods by herself and letting herself be alone with her thoughts was what she always craved. Plus, she could smoke out there without anyone noticing.
Jamie inhaled a lungful of nicotine, the smoke burning as it went down. She pressed on through the trees, pulling her jacket closer as the wind whistled through the air. She knew she was nearly there when the trees started to thin and a clearing started to open out. She spotted the large house in the distance and made her way towards it.
The old Hale house stood solitary in the clearing, the charred walls towering over her like a monster growing out of the ground. As she approached it she could smell the burnt air that surrounded it, a smell far more sinister than the one coming from her cigarette. She dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, her eyes focused on the house before her. She'd only been coming there for the last few months. Something drew her there, but she wasn't sure what. Maybe it was it's unusual starkness in an otherwise empty scene. Maybe it was the harrowing history of the house she'd heard from various sources around Beacon Hills. Maybe it was the feeling of sadness and loss she felt whenever she went there, a strange feeling that was almost comforting. For a girl whose dominant emotion always seemed to be anger, sadness felt somehow calming. Anchoring.
She stood watching the house for a while, before walking up a few of the porch steps and taking a seat. She reached a hand down under the steps, digging around in the leaves before finally pulling out the plastic bag she was looking for. She checked to make sure the bottle of vodka she'd stashed there a few weeks before was still there. It was. She pulled it out, taking a small sip before shoving it into her bag. The taste made her wince as it burnt her oesophagus. She swallowed it down, remembering how she'd swiped it from the store in preparation for Lydia's party that was coming up at the end of that week. Today was the only chance she'd got to retrieve it before Friday.
Jamie smiled to herself, a devious sense of achievement filling her mind. She pulled out another cigarette from the pack Jackson had given her that morning and lit up with her lighter, taking a long drag. She stared down at her wrist, angry blue and purple bruises covering the joint. She was also pretty sure it was swollen. She rubbed it gently, the skin feeling tender under the fingertips. As she did, she heard footsteps behind her and she whirled her head around, staring at the empty porch.
She stood up as she felt the hairs on her arms pricking up. The teen started the climb the rest of stairs, thinking perhaps the noise had come from inside the house. She'd never entered it before, but she was pretty sure no one could live in a house in the state that it was in.
She heard the noise again, and this time she was sure it was coming from behind the front door. The wood creaked under her boots as she approached, her hand clasping around the doorhandle. She breathed deeply, counting to three before pulling the door open, ready to confront whoever was there.
The house seemed derelict and empty. A large staircase filled the centre, snaking up to an upper level. She scanned the room, her eyes meeting only charred walls and burnt furniture. There was nobody there.
Jamie let the door swing shut behind her as she walked deeper into the house. Her sense of sadness intensified as the house seemed to speak to her, the walls screaming out to her. She imagined the flames licking the ceiling that was now mostly gone, hands banging at the windows as they tried to escape.
She bent down, spotting something glinting amongst the rubble. She brushed the splintered remains of the house off of it, revealing an old mirror that once hung on the wall. Jamie stared at herself in it, the dark circles around her eyes starting the creep through the makeup she'd attempted to cover them with that morning. She hadn't been sleeping well. Dark liner rimmed her eyelids, ageing her youthful eyes.
As she stared back at herself, her sadness quickly disseminated into a darker feeling of terror as she examined her surroundings.
There was someone behind her.
Jamie gasped, whipping her head around as she stood up. There was no one there.
She could feel her heart thumping against her ribcage as she took a step forward, her cool palms starting to grow sweaty.
"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice sounding more timid than she'd intended. Footsteps came from behind her again, and she turned around, again being met by nothing.
"You can't scare me!" Jamie called out, not believing her own words. She quickly made for the door, pulling at the handle and cursing when it didn't immediately open. "Come on," she begged it, hearing the footsteps behind her again. From the corner of her eye she could see a shadow moving, terror gripping her from within as she continued to pull at the door.
Finally, she managed to pull the door open, and without another moment's thought, she took off, running from the house as fast as she could.
Her feet carried her through the preserve, adrenaline fuelling her body. She tripped suddenly, her body colliding with the ground as she tumbled down a small hill, wet leaves tangling in her hair. Her breathing was rapid, panic filling her as she heard footsteps crunching the earth bellow.
She stood up, readying herself to run as she turned around, her body colliding with something.
She screamed.
Someone screamed back.
"Jamie?" a familiar voice asked, sounding just as terrified as she felt. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"What the hell are you doing here?!" she shouted back at her brother, shaking herself off. She could see Stiles standing awkwardly behind him.
"I dropped my inhaler last night," Scott replied. "We came back to get it." He held up the small blue object as if to prove his story.
"Right, the body," she said, rolling her eyes. They'd been informed at school that there had been a body found in the woods the previous night. She should've put two and two together earlier and figured at that was where Scott and Stiles had snuck off to.
"What are you doing out here anyway?" Scott questioned again. "I thought you had work at the ice rink today?" Jamie's eyes widened as she checked the time on her phone. She was already late.
"Crap," she muttered angrily.
"Hey, I can drop you off," Stiles offered, poking his head out from behind Scott to smile at her. Jamie looked back at him, her expression softening. She nodded.
"Thanks," she replied. They made their way back to the jeep, Jamie staying silent as they got into the vehicle and sped away.
The end of the week came quickly and, to Jamie's pleasure, so did the party.
Jamie sat are her desk, quickly running a flat iron through her hair to straighten out the curls. She'd already finished her makeup: a dark smoky eye, winged liner and red lipstick.
A knock came at the door and she called for whoever it was to come in. Scott poked his head around the door. Jamie saw him frowning in her mirror.
"Are you going out?" Scott asked, confused. Jamie turned around to face him, raising a brow.
"Lydia's party?" she said, thinking it was obvious. It was clear Scott was also dressed for the occasion.
"I thought you were grounded," Scott replied. Jamie scoffed.
"So?" Scott sighed.
"I'm not covering for you with Mom again," he said, seemingly stressed at the situation. Jamie shook her head.
"Who invited you anyway?" she questioned, only a hint of malice in her voice.
"Everyone's invited," Scott replied innocently. He stood there for a moment, eyeing his sister as he tried to figure out how to phrase his next sentence. "I'm taking Allison," he said finally. Jamie narrowed her eyes at him.
"As in, a date?" she asked. Scott nodded nervously. He was expecting a sarcastic comment from her. Something that would tear away his excitement. A small, rare smile tugged at her lips. "Good for you," she said. Scott thought she almost seemed proud. A goofy smile spread across his face.
"I'm picking her up in twenty minutes," he said gleefully. "I really like her. And I think she likes me." Jamie rolled her eyes. "Hey, do you think a first date is too soon to…?"
Jamie held a hand up to silence him, her expression falling into one of boredom and disgust.
"I don't need all the gory details," she drawled. "But if you need some Dutch courage, I'm your girl." Scott's expression grew confused. She rolled her eyes again. "I've got vodka, Scott." His eyes widened in realisation.
"Oh," he said hesitantly. "That's okay. Mom gave me the car for the night so…" Jamie nodded.
"Well, I better get going," she said, ascending from the chair towards the window. She pulled her father's jacket around her shoulders and zipped it up over her black crop top, concealing the vodka inside the inner pocket.
"You're going out the window?" Scott asked incredulously. "Aren't you gonna fall?" Jamie scoffed, shooting her brother a smirk.
"It's not exactly my first time," she retorted, pushing up the glass and stepping a foot out onto the lower roof.
"There's no way Mom's not gonna find out, you know," Scott called after her. Jamie stepped fully out into the night air before poking her head back into the room to address her brother.
"What's she gonna do, ground me?" she shot back. The boy shifted uncomfortably under his sister's stare, feeling an overwhelming need to maintain the peace in his household. "Lighten up, Scott," she said finally. "It's just one party." With that, she pulled the window shut, descending the drainpipe, and disappearing into the night.
The car pulled up outside Lydia Martin's residence. Jamie took a sip of the vodka, the liquid burning her throat as she swallowed it down.
"Thanks for the ride, Danny," she said to the boy next to her. Danny sighed as he turned off the ignition.
"I'm not giving you a ride home if you get as drunk as last time," he replied with a pointed look. Jamie laughed off his comment, taking another sip from the bottle.
"I wasn't that bad," she replied.
"I had to help your mom carry you inside," he shot back bluntly.
"Okay, maybe that was a bad one," she laughed off again with a small chuckle. "But hey, everyone has that night where they're the drunkest one at the party, right? It's a rite of passage."
"You're always the drunkest one at the party, Jamie," Danny replied. She scoffed at him, an offended expression coming across her face. She brushed the comment off quickly, not willing to let it dampen her mood.
"Well if it makes you feel better, I wasn't planning on spending the night in my own bed anyway," she said, a smirk pulling at her lips. Danny rolled his eyes.
"Who's your next victim?" he questioned. She let out a breath of laughter.
"I'll need to assess the candidates before I can make a decision," she retorted. Danny shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"You know you can drop that act when you're with me, right?" he said.
"What act?" she asked, raising a brow at him.
"You know what I'm talking about," he replied, his expression soft but knowing. She staired back at him, as if waiting for him to elaborate. They held each other's gaze. He could sense an aura of panic in her face. Panic that the thick mask she'd carefully crafted over the last year was starting to crack. He shook his head, releasing her from his glance. "So are you gonna give me a sip of that vodka or what?"
She relaxed instantly, a real smile eclipsing her face as she handed over the bottle.
The party was in full swing by the time Jamie arrived. She made her way through the house and out the back where most of the guests were littered about near the pool. She grabbed a red cup from a table and poured a few spoonsful of punch into it, before topping it up with a generous helping of vodka. She finished the drink in one gulp before making another and heading towards the music where a group of partygoers were dancing.
Jamie's body swayed to the music, the bass pounding through her rib cage as the alcohol surged through her veins. It was the feeling she'd been craving all week. The feeling of freedom. The feeling of letting go and losing control. The feeling of forgetting all the things she wanted to forget.
Unknown hands caressed her waist and she pressed into them, relishing the feeling of someone touching her body. She didn't care who it was. She just wanted someone to take her away, to carry her mind to a place that wasn't Beacon Hills.
The boy whispered something in her ear and she smiled, putting her arms around his neck as he pressed his lips against her skin. Over his shoulder she could see the party raging on as teens sipped on beer and tried to avoid falling in the pool.
It was then that she spotted Lydia and Jackson across the yard and her mood fell considerably. The strawberry blonde's back was pressed against a pillar as she made out with her boyfriend, Jackson's hands roaming her perfect body as he devoured her lips in a lustful kiss.
"I need another drink," Jamie said flatly, pushing the boy away from her as she finished off what was left in her red cup. She made her way back towards the punch table, eyes still cast across the yard as she glared at the loved-up couple. She pulled a cigarette from her jacket and put it between her lips, pouring herself another drink before lighting up. Lydia had chastised her for smoking on her property before, but Jamie figured she was too preoccupied to notice.
"Mind if I join you." The voice came from beside her and she glanced her eyes briefly away from Jackson and Lydia to spot Stiles emerging from the house next to her, leaning against the door frame as he attempted to look casual. Jamie shrugged, her mind distant from the teen next to her.
"Having fun third-wheeling Scott and Allison?" she asked absentmindedly, taking a long drink from her cup.
"Highlight of my week, thanks," he replied sarcastically. "You good?"
"Peachy." Her tone was flat with a sharp edge, like a perfectly calm sea before the tsunami swells from below. Stiles followed her gaze, his eyes landing on the unrelenting scene he too found soul crushing.
"Misery loves company, right?" Stiles joked, leaning on the wall besides Jamie, both watching Lydia and Jackson with an equal level of unhappiness. "I should really say jealousy," he rambled on. "But I guess they both go hand in hand."
"What are you talking about?" Jamie asked, tearing her stare away to look at the teen before her.
"I just meant, you know," he continued. "The jealousy thing. I get it." She raised a brow.
"And what exactly am I supposed to be jealous of?" she shot back. Stiles' face grew confused, and he gestured towards Jackson and Lydia who were still making out.
"That," he said.
"Why would I be jealous of that?" Jamie asked, taking another sip. She was feeling sufficiently buzzed but the way the conversation was heading made her want to continue.
"Because you're in love with Jackson." Jamie spat out a mouthful of her punch as the words left Stiles' mouth. She dropped her cigarette on the floor, stamping it out with a hard heel as she rounded on the boy next to her.
"I am not in love with Jackson," she replied. Stiles could practically see the anger seeping off her skin as her blood boiled.
"Come on, it's not like it's a secret," he replied, shaking his head at her. "Why else would you hate Lydia so much."
"I am not in love with Jackson," she repeated, her teeth gritted together. Stiles smirked at her, gaining some form of satisfaction at managing to get under Jamie McCall's skin.
"Oh yeah?" he said. "Prove it." Jamie's eyes narrowed as he challenged her. There was no way she was going to let Stiles Stilinski get away with what he was trying to do. She smirked at him, as if to say challenge accepted before grabbing the arm of boy who was at the drinks table and whirling him around so he was in front of her. She vaguely recognised him from one of her classes and decided he would do.
"You wanna make out?" she asked. The bewildered boy stared back at her for a moment, his eyes wide.
"Uh, sure," he replied.
Stiles watched as Jamie grabbed the collar of the teen's shirt and pulled him towards her, crashing his lips against hers. He seemed to pause for a moment, unsure what to do, before his lips started to move against hers and the kiss deepened.
"Oh my god," Stiles said as he tried to avert his gaze from the pair. Jamie's fingers tangled in the teen's blonde hair. He was much taller than her and even in her heels he had to bend down a considerable distance to meet her lips. After an elongated moment, she pulled away, shooting him a quick smile before turning back to Stiles, a smug expression on her face. The blonde boy shuffled away, equally bemused as Stiles.
Stiles' mouth was still wide open, and Jamie approached him slowly, gently pushing a finger under his chin to close his jaw.
"Want some?" she asked, offering her bottle of vodka. "You look like you need it." Stiles took it without a word, taking a long sip. The hour was still early, and he knew he still had a long night ahead of him.
Stiles Stilinski pushed through the crowds in the house. He'd lost sight of Scott only seconds earlier, the teen having seemingly abandoned his date and rushed off as quickly as possible. As Stiles made it through the house and entered the back yard, his eyes skimmed the view, looking for any sign of Scott.
"Hey Jamie," Stiles called, catching sight of his best friend's sister as she stumbled ungracefully into a stranger's arms as they danced by the pool. The man was heavily built and tall, a few tufts of sandy hair spewing from under a baseball cap. "Have you seen Scott?" He tried again to get her attention. She didn't reply, simply steadying herself by wrapping her arms around the man. Stiles approached her, the urgency of the full moon causing anxiety to rise within him.
"Jamie," he said again, grabbing her arm and pulling her around. The sudden movement made her lose her balance and Stiles grabbed her to stop her falling to the ground.
"Woah," he said, laughing nervously. Stiles stared at her. He could see her makeup had run down her face, and he wondered if she'd been crying. Her eyes were dilated. Wild and unfocused. He frowned at her. "You good, Jamie"?
"She's good, man," Baseball Cap said. Now that Stiles had a better view of the pair of them, he could tell the man she was with was not a fellow sophomore. At least not a high school sophomore. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.
"I was asking her," he said forcefully, regretting his decision instantly. The guy was twice his size. Baseball Cap simply laughed, pulling Jamie closer towards him, his hand snaked around her waist. He clearly didn't see Stiles as any sort of threat. Stiles cleared his throat. "Jamie, you good?" She seemed to stare for a moment, still in her daze, before she blinked twice, her misty eyes seeming to clear.
"I'm fine," she said, her words monotonous and lacking their usual bite. Something was off with her. She seemed out of it.
"Did you give her something?" Stiles asked, peering around to see if anyone was listening.
"Yeah man, are you buying?" Baseball Cap said, pulling a bag of pills from his pocket. "Ten dollars a pop."
"What? No," Stiles replied incredulously. "And neither is she." Baseball Cap rolled his eyes.
"Come on man, she's just having a good time." Stiles looked at the way Jamie was slumped limply against Baseball Cap's chest, and he severely doubted she was having a good time.
But Stiles remembered the other McCall who was also definitely not having a good time, the full moon now beaming down on the partygoers. He needed to find Scott. Fast.
"We're leaving," Stiles said pointedly, grabbing Jamie's arm and pulling her away.
"Hey, back off." Baseball Cap's hand shot out, his hand finding Jamie's wrist as he yanked her back towards him. She flinched, inhaling a sharp intake of breath. Stiles didn't have time for a fight. He needed to leave to find Scott, with or without an intoxicated Jamie in tow. But he couldn't bring himself to leave her in this state. He never thought of Jamie McCall as particularly vulnerable, but right now, she was.
Time was running out for Scott, and he feared he could only act as hero to one McCall tonight. He'd try one more time to prise her away, and if she wouldn't come, he'd find Danny on his way out. Stiles pulled her arm again, more forcefully his time to try to loosen his opponent's grip on her as she swung from side to side like a rag doll. Baseball Cap tugged back, his grip on her wrist seeming to tighten. Jamie let out a feeble squeak of pain.
"Stop!" she barked finally, yanking herself away with all the force she could muster in her fragile frame. Stiles dropped her arm at her command, and she stumbled backwards, her feet slipping on the slick tiles. She lost her balance, her intoxicated body plummeting into the water of Lydia Martin's pool.