Blue Moon » Stilinski

Two

                                                                   Chapter Two

                                                                     • Aubrey •

Tears of the widower, when he sees

A late-lost form that sleep reveals,

And moves his doubtful arms, and feels

Her place is empty, fall like these;

            I watch him, as I’ve always watched him. From my vantage point between the trees, he sits in front of a closed casket. The one that I lie in.

            But that’s not really me, is it? No, that was an unfortunate circumstance. A girl― a look-alike― walking through the woods one cold night. A girl that could pose for me, killed by ruthless members of the alpha pack. My pack.

            Roxanne is smarter than I give her credit for. Somehow, she knew that I was going to end up in that clinic that night. She knew that I would do whatever was necessary to stop the kanima, even if that meant dying. And she knew that a body needed to be left for the police to find, but that it wasn’t going to be mine.

            Which weep a loss for ever new,

            A void where heart on heart reposed;

            And, where warm hands have prest and closed,

            Silence, till I be silent too;

      Everyone has an Achilles’ heel. And Roxanne knew that mine was the boy with the kaleidoscope eyes.

            Stiles.

            That night, when I tied him to those metal shelves and locked the door behind me, I was fully prepared to die― well, as ready as I would ever be. I sincerely thought that Roxanne was going to kill me. But when you’ve spent years crafting something from deadly beauty, how can you destroy your own creation?

            Roxanne wanted me alive. Her goal still remained: make me become part of the alpha pack. And though it took her a while, she figured out that I would do anything to protect the ones that I love. So she made me a compromise: Officially join the pack, or watch Stiles die.

            Simple as that.

            No more running away from the house. Roxanne’s every wish is my command, and I’ll obey whatever she tells me without comment. In two weeks, I’ll be married to the biggest jerk on the face of the earth. I’m not allowed to mourn Ben. I can’t contact Scott or Allison or Lydia or anyone else to let them know that I’m alive. No more freedom. No more loving. Time for me to be the descendant and face whatever comes next.

            Simple as that.

            Which weep the comrade of my choice,

            An awful thought, a life removed,

            The human-hearted man I loved,

            A Spirit, not a breathing voice.

            Stiles rocks forward, pressing his fingers to his lips. He looks broken, a shadow of a man. More than anything, I want to cry out to him, make him aware that he’s grieving for the living. But Roxanne’s hand on my shoulder makes me all too aware of the danger.