Blue Moon » Stilinski

Thirteen

                                                       Chapter Thirteen

                                                             •  Aubrey  •

One thought keeps turning over and over in my mind: I might just kill myself if I have to spend another day in this godforsaken place.

            I lean against the windowsill, gazing down at the barren ground. The sky is entirely white, as if it’s going to snow, but the sun peeks out from behind the clouds. The cold follows me as I trail my fingers across the glass, trying not to see Ben as he shattered the window. If I shut my eyes tight enough, I can pretend it never happened.

            I never can shut my eyes tight enough.

            I feel like this house is changing me― like it’s making me into something that I despise. I’m living in a shark tank, and all of my hope is bleeding out. The longer that I stay here, the more I lose sight of who I am.

            Twining my fingers together, I repeat my mantra, desperately trying to cling to a piece of myself. My name is Aubrey Jenner. I am the descendant. I will not hurt the ones I love. I am a murderer, but that does not make me a monster. I am not a monster. I am not a monster I am not a monster I am not―

            My eyes snap open, the sound of someone knocking on the door. A shiver runs through me as my feet touch the chilled ground, the floorboards creaking beneath me. When the door swings open, I expect to see Roxanne or Jake or maybe even Paul― but my visitor is someone new. Confusion settles over me as I take in a girl with dreadlocks; she leans against the doorframe, a smirk pulling on her thin lips. This is the same girl who accused me of killing Liz, the hunter carved up by the kanima; the same girl who attacked Scott and who I almost killed.

            I narrow my eyes, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “What do you want?”

            Her smile grows, a subtle menace. She puts a hand against her heart, feigning hurt. “Wow, Aubrey. With that tone, it makes me think you don’t want to see me.”

            “What do you want?” I growl again, careful to enunciate every syllable. Claws spring from the tips of my fingers.

            Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and the smile drops from her face. She straightens, looking almost uncomfortable, and lets out a long sigh. When she speaks, her voice is laced with honesty. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to talk.”

            Something in her tone surprises me, and I don’t make a move to stop her when she brushes past me into the room. Her fingers trail over the walls, her steps slightly uneven. “Nice place. If you like the whole ‘I killed my interior decorator’ kind of look.” She stops at the window, tracing the memory of a spiral in the glass. I wait for her to speak, hovering tentatively by the door. I can see the tension lining her shoulders, and she taps her nails on the windowsill before whirling around, uncertainty etched onto her face. “We never really were properly introduced― didn’t really have the time to chat while we were trying to tear each other’s throats out. I’m Zella, by the way. I wanted to... to apologize. About the last time we met.”

            “That’s what you came here for? To apologize?”

            Her gaze skims the ground, a sad, rueful smile flashing across her lips. “Not really,” she admits, all poised and calm. “But I felt it might be a good place for us to start. Especially if we were to form an alliance.”