Lunatics ➳ Derek Hale/Teen Wolf [1]

2. the pen

Disclaimer: I do NOT own any parts of Teen Wolf or its plot or characters. I do not own Derek Hale. However I do own Skylar McCall and some of the things that come along with her plot (Like Harv & Kelly's, etc).

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     Scott found the other half of the body last night.

That's why he screamed, and why we ended up tumbling down that hill. He saved me the gory details, but I did learn that it was indeed the upper half of the woman's body that we were looking for—that the police are still looking for. The guilt nearly kept me from getting what little sleep I did. If we speak up about what he saw, everyone will question why we were out there in the first place. But if we stay quiet, what if she's never found? Scratch that, I remind myself. The search parties are still going, they should find her soon enough. I hope.

Thankfully, Scott's bite mark from the wolf doesn't seem to be showing any signs of infection. I cleaned it up when we got home last night (actually, it was only a few hours ago) and put a bandage over it. It doesn't look deep enough to need stitches, either, so we decided our late night adventure isn't something Mom needs to hear about. Even after taking the rest of the night to sleep on it, I still can't make sense of last night's events. Scott's bite wound covers the majority of the side of his torso—how did a wolf manage to do that? Why did it stop after just one bite? The question that really freaks me out: how did it shove me? The way it handled me . . . It was human-like. That's why I automatically assumed it was Scott. Whatever kind of rabid wolf that thing was, it was horrifying. And I have a feeling that it was the wolf that attacked that girl.

Despite the heavy thoughts and pounding headache, I have to get up and get ready for school. After grabbing fresh clothes for after my shower, I close the door to the bathroom connected to my room and strip my dirty ones to the floor. The figure in the mirror makes me do a double-take—I look terrible. My long brown hair is caked with dirt and leaves still. I cleaned the cut above my temple before bed last night but the wound looks a little irritated. In various areas of my back and shoulders are bruises from the stampede; most of them are just a little yellow, but one in the middle of my back and another on my left shoulder are already a deep purple. Despite all of this, I don't feel so bad this morning.

I stay in the shower for a little longer than usual, scrubbing the night's events off my body and out of my mind. Soon enough, a dainty pink blouse covers my bruisings and my straight hair is brushed flat against my back. Typically I don't use much make-up, but today I spread some concealer under my brown eyes in an attempt to hide my lack of sleep. Today, I'm dressed comfortably—I'll be wandering around the halls for a good chunk of my time, showing around that new girl. After school I'm planning on sticking around for Scott's and Stiles' first day of lacrosse tryouts before I have to work later in the evening. With that thought in mind, I shove an extra hoodie into my backpack. When I make it downstairs, Scott is already waiting for me in the kitchen.