SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
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divine move
Three teenagers sat in the Sheriff's Station with bowed heads, not a word shared between them as they all rehearsed the lines they had been given over and over in their heads, the script Argent had given them to make it seem as though Allison's death was a mere case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. None of them wanted to belittle her death like that, they knew it was so much more. She'd died a hero, a warrior, a huntress, in the arms of the person who meant most to her. Her death wasn't what they were about to describe it as to make sure no questions would be asked so that she could die in peace like she deserved, not as an investigation. All three were in awe of how well Allison's father was handling this, he was yet to shed a tear, maybe he hadn't quite processed that his little girl had left them yet, but so far, the man had been his usual strong self, guiding the group of teenagers through their first stages of grief.
He made sure all of them knew the same story, word for word, making them repeat it over and over through their sobs until it was burnt into their brain without any mistakes. Their story had to lack some detail, that was how the questions would be avoided. They were all hanging out, next thing they knew, someone was stealing their car, before they knew it, something sharp and metallic had been pulled out and Allison was on the floor, bleeding out in Kinsey's arms. That is one part of the story that hadn't changed. Something had to be there to explain why she was so distraught, traumatized, and shaken to her absolute core. They had to believe that Kinsey saw a light fade out of Allison Argent's eyes, they had to believe that the two girls the entire town knew to be inseparable had been separated by a cold-hearted and sudden murder.
That part wasn't a lie. It was a cold-hearted murder. Sudden? Perhaps in some ways, yes. Kinsey and Lydia, the harbingers of death hadn't seen it coming, they had both known that it wasn't the older Argent who was supposed to die tonight, but the younger one. Neither had predicted that Allison would see the events of tonight too, that she would somehow tap into her angel abilities and stop it from happening, sacrificing herself instead. Kinsey knew that Allison would do it one day, she just didn't think it would cost Allison her life, she didn't think it would be a sacrifice for her that gained Allison the activation of her supernatural genes.
The entire station had heard about what had happened tonight, from the second they had seen the four solemn faces walk through the main door, the grief across their faces, they knew that a teenager had lost their life to this godforsaken town, someone too young to have had to worry about dying. None of them knew who the said teenager was, not at first, they all had their guess, but when a particular brunette teenager had excused herself from the room, unable to breathe or control her sobbing, their guesses narrowed down further. Until all were left suspecting that Allison Argent had been the one to die.
