fixing a broken smile

chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this one shot, besides the ocs mentioned or seen, everything else belongs to their rightful owners.

:: Warnings: Minor Abuse.
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She was the small brunette girl who had friends. Two friends to be exact, and Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall were their names. They were both no bodies that became some bodies over night, or well, summer. She was just the girl who smiled and laughed with them, occasionally getting into some minor trouble with them both as well. Her father was a fellow officer, one that Stiles' dad worked well with when on call. No one knew what went on behind closed doors. No one really knew that the good officer had lost it when his wife had passed away. A thing that he and the sheriff both had in common and it was probably the reason that they worked so well as partners.

She was the girl who held a mask when she smiled. She came off as a happily shy girl who made up the third of the trio that consisted of her, Stiles, and Scott. She came to the lacrosse practices if only to just watch them play, only occasionally missing them every so often. No one would notice that she would come to school the next day with a new covered up bruise on her body. No one would notice every wince she made when someone touched her or when she turned too quickly. No one noticed that her laugh was forced, only being used to cover up her cries of pain. Her smile never once reached her eyes, but no one noticed that either.

No one noticed, but he did.

He noticed how she limped sometimes, how she made up excuses for the injuries that she couldn't cover up. He noticed when she wouldn't come in to school for a few days, but then she would back come in and play it off as the flu. He noticed how loud her screams were on the bad nights. He watched on from his bed room window as she would race out of her house, running as she fast as she could to no where, only to come back a few hours later to the hell that was her home. How did he know that? Because he lived across the street from her. His name was Isaac Lahey, and her name was Madeline Carson.

She was the girl that he always really saw, but she never saw him. She moved around like a shell who only knew how to fake a smile. She was just like him, only she was better at hiding it then he was. People believed her lies and they believed her smile. Even the two people who swore that they knew her the best couldn't see how bad off she really was. She would never blame them for not knowing, he knew that. He was thrown out from his thoughts as he worked on digging up the last of the grave that he had been working on when he heard the sound of the front gates squeaking open. He looked around confused, not seeing why anyone would, willingly, be here in the middle of a storm. He had to be here because it was better then being in his own home, but no else would be here.

Except for her.

He saw the little flash of color run by him, slipping slightly from the newly wet mud, but they kept going forward. He shut down the machine after a minute of hesitation and climbed down from the backhoe. He was careful not to slip as he got to the ground and headed over to the old shed. He grabbed one of the spare blankets and followed after the direction that the blur had gone off in. He saw the bright color of her nightgown from where he stood. She was curled up against the head stone that she always came to see. It was her mother's. He came up behind her, barely making a sound. She seemed to be spaced out as she rested her head against the cold marble of the head stone. Her eyes were staring off, not looking at anything at all. He could already see the bruise darkening under her eye and the blood falling from the corner of her mouth.

He crouched down as he held up the blanket in his arms. He dropped it down onto her shoulders, which seemed to snap her out of it. She screamed out as she scrambled to turn to see who was behind her. Her breathing was shallow and low as she stared up at him with frightened doe like eyes. He held up his hands in surrender, having not meant to spook her like he had. "S-s-sorry." he squeaked out as he took a step back from her. "It-it's just, the storm, you ha-have to be, you know, cold. I-I-I figured you'd, um, you'd want that." he stuttered out to her.