Tattoos • Teen Wolf [complete]

009

Serena's POV

I don't know why I agreed to let Parrish take me shopping. I mean, I understand that it's a basic human necessity to have fresh clothes and not the same old thing, and I get he's trying to be nice...but it was uncomfortable. Every where I looked, there were people. So many people! And the worst part is, every one of them was giving me weird looks for the markings on my neck. If only they understood the great responsibility that came with these tattoos, they wouldn't be staring.
My mind seemed to be too busy to care about what strangers think of me. All I could think about was finding my adoptive parents dead on the floor of my own bed room. It's as if every time I blinked, I saw their cold...lifeless faces again. Every so often, I felt tears well up in my eyes so I wiped them away quickly before they can fall, and pretended that I was fine. Even thought I obviously wasn't. I needed time to grieve, but I also needed clothes. And I'm sure that Parrish-I mean...Jordan, wouldn't want to share his clothes.
Sheriff told me not to worry about the funeral and that he was going to send professionals to get their bodies and the police department was gonna pay for the funeral. But that's not what I was worrying about. The moment I walked into my house, I felt an uneasy feeling. Like something wasn't right. And now, I'm beginning to feel that same feeling about Beacon Hills. Like it's not safe.

"How about this?" Parrish asked, pointing at a pair of blue jeans. I nodded, taking the pants off the hanger. I didn't mind getting new clothes, especially since I've been wearing the same sweatpants and sweater for a while.
I looked around the store, my eyes scanning the area before they stopped on a nice plaid shirt. I walked over to it, and picked it up. I nodded in approval, before I heard Parrish laugh a bit from behind me.
"You know who you'd be great friends with? Stiles. The sheriff's son." He said jokingly, and I pretended to understand the joke. I didn't know who this Stiles was, but I doubt I'd be good friends with him. I don't know if anyone has noticed, but I'm not a very social person.
I walked over to a dressing room, and told Jordan to wait outside as I tried the clothes on. As soon as I buttoned the last button of my plaid shirt, I looked in the long mirror against the wall and sighed at my reflection. I looked sleep deprived, thin, and like I was ready to collapse at any second. Which is kind of true. The last thing I ate was some breakfast that Sheriff and I picked up on the way to my house.
I moved my hair away from my neck, and analyzed the markings that were still here. I ran my fingers along them, as if the answer can pass through my finger tips and into my mind. Sadly, that's the one thing that I can't do. I still didn't know what they mean, and I haven't gotten a warning sign in forever.
I discarded the thought, before picking up my things and opening the door of the change room I was in. I looked around, confused. Everyone was gone. My eyebrows lowered, as my heart began to beat faster and faster. I looked back into the dressing room, and noticed something strange. The mirror was covered in blood. Blood that wasn't here just seconds ago. But the blood seemed to be spelling something out. It looked familiar.
Hale. The mirror read. I pondered in my mind. Hale. I thought again. Elah...is Hale backwards. My eyebrows raised once I realized what the sign really was. My middle name is not Elah, it's Hale.
I walked up to the mirror painted in blood, and looked at my reflection in the little space that was not covered. Except, it wasn't my reflection looking back. It was...a young man, probably Parrish's age. He had black hair, thick eyebrows and some stubble. He was well built for his age.
"Hale." He whispered. "You're a Hale." He said softly.
I shook my head. "My name is Serena Elah Michelson!" I told the man in the mirror.
"You've been lied to. Your adoptive parents changed your name to Elah to change the fact that you're a Hale." He said explained. "So you couldn't find me."
"I am not a hale." I said, getting angry. I clenched my teeth together. "I am a Michelson!" I yelled. It was only around mid-swing when I realized that I was going to punch the mirror. I acted on instinct.
The moment the glass of the mirror fell to the ground, I felt myself sink back to reality. I looked around and I was still in my dressing room, but this time, someone was banging on the door.
I opened the door, to see Parrish's worried face.
"Are you alright?" He asked, and I nodded in response.
No I'm not alright. I just got into a fight with some guy that decided to show up in my mirror. I thought, but refrained from saying.
"Do your know anyone with the name Hale?" I asked without thinking, and his eyes widened. I instantly regretted the question.
"What...why?" He said, confusedly. I turned around, and pointed at the mirror in my dressing room, as if I believed that the man was still going to be there. Of course, the only thing we saw was our reflections.
"Just, forget about it." I insisted, turning around and walking out of the dressing room. He followed close behind me.
"Don't lie to me." He demanded, but I didn't answer. I heard a sigh come from behind me. "Fine, we can talk about this later."
"Or not at all!" I suggested, not turning around to face him.
"Serena, you can't hide everything from me!" He protested. I turned to face him, and he seemed as if he was scared out of his mind. His heart rate picked up, and I saw him gulp in nervousness.
"You don't need to know anything about me, Parrish. You're nothing but a stranger I met last night." I snarled through gritted teeth. He looked around, before leaning down and whispering.
"Serena...your eyes are glowing..."