I sit across from the young girl, watching her closely as she sets up a video camera and gets out a small pile of paper from her satchel. She is rather pretty, her strawberry blonde hair reminds me of Lydia, but that is where the similarities end. Her skin is darker than Lydia’s, and her eyes are almost grey, with the smallest hint of cobalt blue in them, and she is more built than Lydia ever was. Even so, the way she carries herself and speaks reminds me of the girl I loved and lost because I loved her too much.
I lean forward and rest my arms on the table in between the girl and myself, watching her flinch slightly at my movement. I smile slightly. Of course she’s scared of me. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve done terrible things, and it seems as though my reputation has proceeded me much more than usual this time. I study her small movements and my smile grows larger when I notice that she keeps shooting me wary looks every few seconds.
“You do know that you have no reason to be afraid,” I say, a hint of playfulness in my voice. “I don’t like to play with my food.”
The girl flinches. “W-What?”
“I’m messing with you. I haven’t killed anyone in a long time. You don’t have to worry. You’ll be fine. You have more reason to be worried about the monsters in here.” I tap my head. “Not the ones you talk to.”
“O-Okay. That’s reassuring.”
“By the way, if I had wanted to kill you, no offense, but you would already be dead.”
I watch the girl as she goes pale white and her eyes just about fall out of her eye sockets. I chuckle at her response and lean back, placing my hands behind my head and relaxing. A flurry of emotions cross the girl’s face before settling on determination. She sits up straighter in her seat and turns the video camera on, straightening her papers and, obviously, trying to look professional. I remove my hands from behind my head and sit properly.
It’s time to begin.
“January 15th, 2130,” the girl states. “Interview with Mr Stiles Stilinski conducted by Reporter Lydia Branwell. This interview will take a minimum of two hours, Mr Stilinski. Are you alright with spending a minimum of two hours answering my questions and telling me your story?”
“Please, call me Stiles,” I reply, a small smile on my face. “And yes, I am alright with spending however long need be answering questions and telling you my story. Are you prepared to listen to all of it, including the gruesome parts?”
“I am quite prepared, Stiles. Please begin by stating your name and age.”
“My name is Stiles Stilinski and we are 1, 750 years old.”
The girl - Lydia - doesn’t even flinch when I mention my age. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes, my dear Lydia. Do ask away.”
“Why don’t you start us off by explaining what happened in 2013?”
“The year I was still human, and was still in their Pack. That was the year everything went wrong for me. I was being chased by a Wendigo. That’s when it all started going wrong. I accidentally killed him trying to get away from him, but, of course, nobody looked at me the same or even believed me when I told them. They thought I had done it on purpose because, back then, I was just a human who couldn’t protect himself.
I was the only defenceless human in their Pack, and that was the reason I got kicked out of it. All because I couldn’t defend myself. Nobody except Lydia tried to stop me leaving, but they stopped her before she got to me. Lydia is the only one who cares now, and that’s probably never going to change.”
“What was it like when you left the Pack?”
“Leaving the Pack was hard at first, there were so many supernatural creatures out to get me and I had no way of protecting myself. I ended up almost getting killed once, and that was how I met my new Pack. They accepted me, even though I was just a plain old human that couldn’t defend himself.”
“Could you start your story from the day you got kicked out of your original Pack?”
“Sure, Lydia. I am Stiles Stilinski, and this is my story.”