The numbness remains. Wearing a silky tribal print sleeveless dress and a pair of converse, I walk to school early instead of taking the car. Waking up at 4 in the morning, I'm the first to leave the house for school. After yesterday, I expect nothing but the worst day after day. That's the reason why I decide to numb all of these emotions. Today is the day when I'm supposed to go for lunch with Melissa who I can't stand. I'd never agree into doing something like this if it wasn't for dad's condition. I'm not ready to see her alone, to talk to her or even hear her out.
Spending my time at the bleachers as usual, I can't think of anything else but that. After years of being abandoned, I'm supposed to face the person who has chosen her son instead of me. How is that not favoritism? It's making me restless to another level. What should I say to her to make it unambiguous that I don't like her? To begin with, I have never wanted or asked to be here.
After thinking things through with a ruffled mind, time seems to fly and I'm left with 10 minutes to get to class. Picking up my bag, I enter the school hallway which is filled with students already. Sighing, I walk forward and spot Liam at his locker and decide to talk to him.
"Liam, hey." He turns around, showing me a smile.
"You're feeling all right?"
"Yeah, better." Liam paused. "What about you?"
"I've had better days."
Frankly speaking, I do have had better days. Ones without me having me to meet Scott or Melissa ever. It's back in San Francisco. Even back at home, dad hangs a photo of us as a family in our living room. It is just unbelievable how he still holds on to our broken family when they have clearly moved on to survive without him – and me – for years.
"Smiling makes it better, you know."
Liam cut my thoughts short and I chuckle to his remark. Before we could continue with our small talk along the hallway, the bell rings and I wave him goodbye before walking off to class. Mason joins Liam and together they proceed to their class too, as I've seen over my shoulder. At least he's safe and sound now, I smile before entering class.
It's the time which I've been dreading most since last night. Staying still at my locker, I try to convince myself that it will be okay. It's just lunch and I'll survive this. Although my shaky hands are giving away if I could even go through with it. If she were to cause me any harm, I'd retaliate – no matter what the consequences are. Even so, no matter how much I try to soothe myself, I end up bursting into tears and drop down on the empty school hallway. Everyone's having lunch and here I am, leaning against the locker, crying my eyes out. I couldn't believe this, this is what happens when frustration turns into tears.
It's just so hard for me to face the truth with Melissa who ruined it all. Hugging my knees to my chest, I continue crying with my face hidden in between my knees. Out of everything that could happen, it's lunch with Melissa that cause me a breakdown.
"Lyssa?" I hear footsteps drawing near. "Lyssa, are you crying? Hey, what's wrong?"
Pulling me in an embrace, I allow Stiles to make an attempt to comfort me. He's right next to me, sitting on the ground. If I can't calm myself down, what makes him think he can do it? I'd like to see him give it a try, maybe that will make me feel better – seeing him fail. He hushes me while caressing my hair.
"It's going to be fine Lys. Just think of the closure that you need all these time."
Stiles whispered quietly and continue to hush me. He knows about it. Scott must have told him. Over time, my sobbing subsides and I wipe away the tears. I can't believe it worked. Stiles' words work on me and I can't even comprehend how that is even possible, without Stiles breaking a sweat or in pain. It couldn't be mainly because he's part of the reason as to why I strongly hate Melissa. He gets up before me and holds out his hand.
Exchanging glances, I then take his hand and he pulls me up. I take my bag from my locker before closing it. I take a deep breath as I continue to avoid facing Stiles. He remains in position, observing me from an up close distance.
"I have to go." I sniffed. "Thanks for that."
I blurted before turning my back to him. I don't even want to give him a chance to say anything before leaving. It's discomfiting enough that he's the one to console me when I have no one else.
As I'm withdrawing from him, I eventually take into grasp that he knows. Stiles have discovered precisely what I'm capable of. Stuck in my current position, it takes me a minute to process it all and turn back around to see Stiles. He's still standing there as I anticipated, with a grin on his face.
"You know." I take a step closer to him. "How did you know?"
"If I tell you I'll have to kill you."
He joked. Taking my cue, I stand in front of him and grab his collar to prevent him from fleeing. Stiles need to do some explanation on how he's able dig out all the information about me. I know he is capable of doing anything just as long as he finds his answers. What astonishes me is how he manage to figure it out on his own. Just last night, he was with Lydia. They both share the same opinion, I'm unlike her.
"Don't you dare say a,"
Before I could finish my threat, Stiles lean in for a kiss. His hands rested on my waist as I slowly release my hold on his collar. The soft kiss ends when I pull away and we look into each other's eyes expecting one of us to break the silence. Stiles believe in me despite everything and knowing that I'm reading his mind, he promises to not tell a soul.
Snapping out of the daze, I push Stiles away and glare at him. He better do as he promised or I'll give him a kick to the gut this time. Nonetheless, as I walk away from him once again, I feel as though I can put a little trust in him. He does the same to me when I hate him to death, why can't I at least learn to trust him a bit?
Entering the café, I notice Melissa is present already at the corner of the room. She's seated on a table for two, waiting for my appearance – keeping her eye on her watch. Rolling my eyes, I draw nearer to the table and sits across her. It startles her slightly but I pay no heed to her reaction. Melissa looks up showing me a wide smile and asks the basic, nonsensical questions about school and my day.
"Sorry about the other night. The hospital called and I have to,"
"Can we skip to the part where I order something to eat?"
I interrupted her statement of 'apology'. She doesn't mean a word of it so why would I care to listen? She don't have to waste her breathe trying to dredge up the memories how much of a letdown she have been to me. There are better things for me to do here which is to eat and actually have lunch – unfortunately, with her presence.
Nodding her head, Melissa then opens up her menu as I look down at mine. I scroll down the menu, finding something nice to eat. After some time, I find that there is nothing that matches my appetite. Right now, I'm craving for tacos. Very random but I'd rather not to question my cravings when I have bigger things bugging me at this time. In the end, I order a butter croissant and an iced lemonade. While waiting for the drinks and food to arrive, I sighs and look at Melissa. She's looking right back at me, with a smile.
"You're fitting in well here in Beacon Hills?"
"Not at all." I enlightened her. "It sucks being here actually."
"Look Al Lyssa, I'm sorry. For everything that I did to you that makes,"
Melissa stops talking once our order comes and she looks directly at me. I frown intently at her in return. She has no clue at all as to why I hated her so much. Just like Scott, Melissa is not even close to guess the roots of my hatred towards them. With every second passing by, I'm losing my patience. My hand grips on the corner of the table which Melissa now realized.
"Al, relax." She places her hand over mine. "I'll let you talk."
Gradually, I loosen my hold on the wooden table. Melissa then takes my hand away from the corner of the table and I pull it away from her hold, crossing my arms instead. I don't need her to throw a pity party for me nor do I want to talk to her. On second thoughts, why not I let her in on how exactly I feel towards being here in Beacon Hills? The least I could do during this lunch is demonstrate to her how it is to show your true colors without having to put on a disguise by expressing her apology for everything that's irreversible because time machines don't exist.
"Stop apologizing. All you do is say sorry on repeat yet you never prove anything. Not a single thing which can ever mend this so-called relationship we have. I'm not happy being here, if it's not obvious and if it isn't, that just means you don't care. So you can stop the pretense right now."
Avoiding taking a glance of her reaction, I take a bite of the croissant and look away. My sights are set on the setting of the café rather than the woman who gave birth to me. I'm getting bored of listening to her, seeing her and even living with her after what happened recently. My life is in a mess and so is Beacon Hills. While assassins are running loose out there, I'm right here stuck with this woman who never once cared to contact me while I was growing up.
"So what do you want me to do?" She quizzed. "Tell me anything just so it would make your life a little better."
"Convince dad to send me home, where I belong."
I replied in a murmur. If we're being blunt right now, that's the truth. For days, weeks I've been wanting for dad to say the time and date for us to depart from this town. However with his hectic schedule and having to work out of town frequently, it's getting even harder for me to see him – let alone talk to him.
Hearing so, Melissa stays silent. She has nothing left to say and takes her first sip of her cappuccino. The silent remains till I've finish my drink and croissant. While I have been filling my stomach, I've read her thoughts. She's thinking twice about doing according to my want. Melissa is torn between losing me again and making me happy. Till now, she's still considering with both options having a 50/50 chance.
"Thank you for seeing me today." Melissa uttered. "I promise to return your money as soon as possible."
"Don't talk about it ever again. Dad doesn't have to know about it."
Hopefully she gets the meaning. Money isn't what I'm concern about, it never have been. Placing some cash on the table, I then leave Melissa behind to head back home. She has to be at work while I'd rather skip the rest of school. I'm only left with one class to attend which I choose not to. First of all, it's not worth it plus I can't even think straight at this period.
There's so much on my mind. I have so many reasons to leave it all behind now but why stay? Initially that was the plan. To flee from Beacon Hills and let dad live alone with them. I'm sure they are much happier prior to my arrival which disrupts everything. Kicking a pebble to the front, I look up to my front only to be tackled from behind by Stiles' girlfriend.
"STAY AWAY FROM STILES!"
She yelled before growling and grabbing the pleated neckline of my dress with her claws. I try retaliating by kicking around to be released but fails. With her breathing on my neck and her canines showing, I quickly grip her hair and pull her head back. Fighting willfully, I manage to head-butt her on the temple and Malia drop back. Speedily, I reach for the hidden weapon in my bag before standing tall with a gun in my hand. I point it steadily to Malia, aiming at head.
"Come any closer and I'll shoot this bullet which is covered with wolfsbane right through your head."
I warned her grimly as we're inches away from each other. My clutch on the gun tightens as Malia takes each step towards me leisurely. Before she could lunges herself at me while I prepare to pull the trigger, someone joins the scene to pull Malia away. I drop the gun, breathless at how the rush of the situation is making me lightheaded. Looking up, I witness Derek holding Malia back and pulling her away. He shows me a nod before I grab on my bag and gun, leaving both of them in the lurch.
What the hell just happened? What in the world have gotten in the head of the werecoyote that caused her to attack me? Shaking slightly from the previous occurrence, I hug myself as I walk home at the fastest pace possible. It almost feels as though I'm running but I wasn't.
"Are you okay?"
Jumping at the sudden emergence, Derek then place his hands on my shoulders to hold me steady. It then occurs to him that I'm shivering slightly. Derek hurriedly pulls me close with an arm around my shoulder. His other hand then strokes my hair gently as he assures me that it's alright. Unable to voice out anything in shock, I follow him to his car. Throughout the ride, he takes a few glances at me as I stare at out of the windshield.
"You really shouldn't be kissing someone else's boyfriend."
Derek commented as we stand at the front door. That is the first thing he said to me, which isn't a question, ever since we've met. I have not seen him a lot around here but with just one look from our previous encounter, it feels odd to have known what shouldn't be known by a stranger. Unlike Scott, I have no relations with Derek or any one of the Hales – besides Malia – and frankly, I'd like to keep it that way.
I avoid facing him, as I look down at my feet. That was all about Stiles? What she didn't know was that Stiles was the one who kissed me. I was the one threatening him to mind his own business.
"You need to rest." He advised. "And your head, it's bruised."
I know exactly what he meant. It was the head-butt; it must have been the cause of my dizziness and explains a lot about the bruise. Without having to say anything else, or add on about the comment he made, I nodded and just like that, Derek left.
Other than the advice or even the comment, I expected more from him. Derek doesn't even have to know about it but I do. How is he dealing with the processes of evolving into a werewolf? By exterior, he looks to be handling it quite normally. In his mind however, I could barely make out what are the thoughts that Derek are bothered with. It must have been due the light-headedness that I'm having.
One thing Derek's right though, I do need a rest.
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