Proverbs Of The Wicked ✸ Teen Wolf

Mother May I?

The crystal blue eyes boring into her own was all she could think of as she waited in the school lunch line. How she had managed to remember such a small detail in the midst of almost dying was beyond her. Mary Charlotte was many things; a hunter, daughter, friend, and 12th grade repeater. But she was never wrong when it came to gut feelings.

She sat by herself, scanning the area as her father taught her, and watched as kids her age talked and laughed and enjoyed the lunch hour. Jealousy creeped its way into her as she studied the different cliques and wished deep down that she could be apart of one of them. A teenager without a care in the world whose biggest problem was who was going to ask her out to prom.

In the middle of all of the shuffling high schoolers and pissed off teachers, was the crystal blue eyes. They were just as mesmerizing as the first time she saw them.

Bingo.

Mary sat and waited for the guy to break from the pack, her mouth forming in a tight line as she pushed the awful 'food' around her tray. It felt like an hour to Mary before the boy decided to get up from the table and do something else rather than compare himself to the other boys that were sitting.

This was her chance.

She slowly got up from the table and made her way to dump her trash as she stared carefully at him. Mary was always good at blending into the background of her surroundings, school being a major one of those.

The blue eyed boy had stopped at his locker for something and was digging in a hurry as he glanced nervously down the hallway. It was as if he was expecting someone to get him, almost paranoid.

Mary slowly walked out from behind the corner she had been hiding behind and quietly moved closer to him. She was about 6 feet away from him when she saw a tall figure heading their way, her movements coming to a halt as the figure got closer and she realized it was the principle.

Act natural.

Mary quietly cleared her throat and made her presence known, causing the boy who was frantically looking through this locker to slightly jump and face her. She smiled at him once he turned around, an inhaler gripped tightly in his palm as he watched the principle get closer.

His curly brownish hair was sticking up in some places and his eyes had only met hers for a second before they dropped back to the ground in a hurry. Mary was about to say something to him when the principle finally made her way to them with an odd expression stuck on her face.

The two teens stood cautiously as they waited for her to speak. Students weren't allowed to roam the hallways during the lunch hour, so Mary had assumed she was coming over to tell them to get back to the cafeteria. The principal did nothing, only stared at Mary as the silence went on and it was in those few seconds of stillness and observation that Mary realized what the look on the principles face was. Pity.

Then, she finally spoke up.

"Miss. Thompson, come with me please."

Those words had never shocked her more, and the ones after it had shattered her world completely. Her mother, Anne, had killed herself. She was alive and happy when she left the house that morning, and now she was hearing that her mother, in a fit of desperation and depression, had killed herself. Just like that.

"You're lying." Mary accused as she jumped out of her chair and headed straight for the door. She was no longer interested in the lies the older women was telling her.

"Now, Mary. I know—"

"You don't know anything!" Mary yelled as she turned to face her, anger clear and strong in her voice as tears gathered at the bottom of her eyes. "My mom wasn't depressed, and she would never have killed herself! She loved me, she wouldn't just leave like this."

The older women stared at her with sadness as she thought of what to say next.

"Everyone deals with things differently, and that's okay. Let's just take a seat and we can talk—"

"There's nothing to talk about, Ms. Lynn. My mom's not dead. Whoever told you that is obviously sick or something because it's not true."

"You're father told me to tell you all of this." And there it was, the first major crack in the already breaking glass. She should've known. "I have to go." Mary didn't wait to hear any objections from the women as she walked out of the office, her pace quickening as she exited the school doors and headed for the entrance gates to leave.

"Where do you think you're going, Mary." She recognized the voice even before she turned to see the person. Her blood boiling as she turned to face her father.

"Is it true?" She sounded like she was hoping it wasn't, that this was all a sick joke he was playing on her.

There was silence, and then Mary knew that it was. That her father was a murderer and her mom was really gone. She wouldn't be home for dinner, there would be no more late night talks in the kitchen, and no more sweet hugs when the world was against her.

Anne Thompson was dead, and death was final.

Her father tried to pull her into a hug of comfort, but was stopped when Mary stepped away from him.

"Mom would never do this."

"We don't know what your mother was thinking, Mary. She was confused and afraid."

"No," she stared hard at her father as she spoke "mom would never do this. She couldn't even cut her own finger that time she had to dig deeper to get a splinter out."

There was a pause between the two, her fathers gaze lowering to the ground and becoming tired.

"What did you do, dad?"

Silence.

"What. Did. You. Do."

"I did what I had to do, Mary!"

Another crack. There was an ache in Mary's chest as she turned away from her father, her head spinning as she stumbled down the courtyard stairs before catching herself.

She couldn't bare it anymore, it felt like all of the pain in the world was nestling itself deep inside of her, pulling on her entire being as she fought to not cry in that very moment.

All she wanted was for her mother to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay and that all of this was just a bad dream. But it wasn't. Mary was going to have to live the rest of her life without her loving mother.

In a fit of anger and sadness, she quickly turned to face her father and pointed angrily at him. "HOW COULD YOU?!" It felt like knives were stabbing every inch of her body over, and over again.

There was no response from him, only a harsh grab of the arm as he lead her to the car. Panic set in quickly for Mary as she started to fight against him. Was she next? Would her father really do this to her? Mary shuddered at the thought because she knew he would. He had already killed his wife, whom she thought he loved and cared about, or at least acted like he did.

She stared with fear in her eyes from the passenger seat as he sat in the drivers seat and started the car. Silence. He didn't speak at first, and when he finally did, Mary wished he would have never had said a word.

"Peter Hale."