Wild Heart

IED (2)

Walking into class, I look at the available seats which are very limited. My eyes then shift to a seat at the last few rows where it's right behind Stiles. Sitting beside him is Scott, of course. Just great, that seat also happens to be the only one vacant while the rest have quickly settled down and taken the lucky seats – which are away from these two idiots. This is what I get in return for coming in three minutes late, good to know. Sighing in frustration, I strut off to the seat and overlook the presence of these two idiots.

Throughout the lesson, I realize Stiles hasn't been paying attention at all. He has been busy with his own work. By his own work, I'm referring to his so-called duty to gather more details regarding the assassination that happened to Carrie. He's also doing it in order to prove Scott wrong and my innocence in the matter.

"If I could grade you on how profoundly you disturb me, you'd be an A+ student."

All eyes turn to look at Stiles. I cursed silently and try to make Coach Finstock shift his attention away. However, just then Stiles grab onto the damaged lacrosse stick. He takes a good look at it carefully despite Coach's demands. I wanted to kick his chair but at the same time I observe that he's a step closer. He's finally able to trace who the assassin is, faster than I thought he'd take.

"It's a lacrosse player." Stiles muttered to Scott.

"The killer is on the team."

I heard them loud and clear enough. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell them that he is in fact in the lacrosse team and he's not alone. He has a partner in crime, Violet. Just then, I spot Scott taking a glance at me. He's showing me an almost apologetic look. Rolling my eyes, I turn to face the front and continue to concentrate in class.

There's not a chance where I'd forgive him so easily. After what I've witnessed and who I've witnessed doing the crime, I'm supposed to be petrified but with Scott's accusations from nowhere, I'm far from worried. Instead I'm outraged as to how foolish he could be to harass me with no evidence to support his allegations. It's due to the hatred too; I decide to withhold the vital information regarding the killings.

To make myself feel a little better, I'd want to see Scott rack his brain of who will be targeting him during the match tonight. It's going to be very exhilarating to watch but sadly, I'd have to miss it.

Seeing how his Beta is fuming earlier, both him and Stiles have pulled him away and make their way towards the lacrosse locker room. The boy was clenching his fists till blood is dripping between his knuckles. That's how much of a struggle it is for him to control his anger, Scott realized. In the locker room, they are quick to get him under the shower till he eventually regains self-control after releasing quite a roar.

They then question Liam of what happened in his previous school. Without much push, the younger male told them the truth. He was banned from playing for an entire season which drives him to resort to severely damaging his coach's car. Liam also confessed of his diagnose of Intermittent Explosive Disorder to which Stiles isn't favourable of.

"That's great. You gave superpowers to a walking time bomb."

Stiles pointed out while Scott then question of medications that he's supposed to take. Liam waste no time to admit that he have been avoiding to take Risperdal, stating that it's a barrier for him to play lacrosse. Hearing this, it only gives Scott additional reason to keep him out of the game. After what he and Stiles have discovered today, he can't risk Liam's life on the school field. His name might not be on the dead pool list but there's more of it, Scott is sure.

Even though he tries to be positive, he can't. The dead pool list basically consists of all supernatural creatures residing in Beacon Hills. Everyone that he hadn't known is in there too with him. There's a high possibility of Liam being in there too although he'll assure the 15 year old otherwise.

"I think you should be out of the game. Tell coach your leg is still hurting." Scott ordered him.

"I can do this, especially if you're there."

Liam insisted despite Scott's attempts to convince him of his safety. After much reluctances, Scott disclose of the information which he have learnt from Stiles earlier in Econ. Just when Stiles shares his discovery, he couldn't even more remorseful towards Al. What makes it worst was that, she avoided from looking at him when she was seated near him.

Scott couldn't blame her. He really did screw up everything for condemning her of things which she wasn't responsible for. Stiles believed in her while Scott has no faith at all in his twin. That's something which have been bothering his mind since Econ and how she was sent for detention at the end of the day because of him.

"We think the person who ordered the keg killed Demarco."

Hearing so, Liam is stump. It couldn't be him. He's a friend, or so Liam thought. Whatever that Mason said earlier that day flashbacks into his mind. Maybe it is him after all; he's the one that killed Demarco.

"Liam, do you know something?"

"It's Garrett." Liam paused. "He's the one who ordered the keg."

That piece of information alone is enough to drive Scott even more guilt-ridden and determined to keep everyone on the field safe tonight.

I'm finally released from detention after getting held back for displaying an act of violence. I wouldn't exactly call it an act of violence but Scott did try to touch me. Since I'm not carrying any pepper spray at the moment, I rely on my quick reflexes to twist his left arm to his back just before we exited class. Class ended anyway and I did try to fight for my rights but obviously, Scott always wins. Instead of getting a warning, I ended my day in school with detention.

Sighing, I walk out of the toilet and knock into Liam again. This time round, nothing drop and it's just a small bump to our shoulders. I flash a small smile, feeling better to see him throughout the entire day at last.

"Hey, haven't seen you around today."

"I've been busy." I replied coyly before pausing. "Good luck for tonight."

He looks surprised at first but seems to understand it the next second. Liam genuinely thought I have been finding out more about him but then he remembers that I am related to Scott McCall after all. Reading him is so easy and quite a humour, I have to admit.

"Yeah, right. Thanks." He chuckles. "I was thinking if you're free after the game? We could grab a drink."

That's very nice of him, I thought. I fidget around, trying to think of the best way to decline his offer. Liam is not just looking for a friend; he wants to know me – unlike Scott. Right now, I don't think it's a good time for both of us. I'm still trying to keep up with moving here while he's new to learning his werewolf stuffs. There's a lot for each of us to handle and I can't allow myself be a distraction to him.

After avoiding his eyes while thinking through, I look back at him. Damn his blue eyes, it's really compelling. I have to think twice again of choosing the nicest and right words to turn him down.

"Sorry but I'm busy. And you need to focus on being a werewolf Liam. "

That comes out as cold but I had to do it. I can't be selfish towards someone who deserves better. Hopefully he won't take it the wrong way. I don't know why there's this unquestionable need for me to not get him into trouble. Since I first met him, I realized we're almost one and the same. Anger, trust, we share the same problems and to lessen his 99 problems, I'll take my cue to stay out of his way – and life.

Liam remains wordless after being rejected by the one girl who he's starting to like. She obviously won't be going to the game tonight or any other games for that matter because of him. He didn't mean to scare her off and judging by how she have been all these time, he finds it hard for anyone to scare her. Instead it's the opposite where people are easily intimidated by her.

He watches Al walk away to leave school. She's seems to be the only person here who is able to get him, except for Scott but he's still trying. Earlier today, Scott was the one to calm him down when all he wanted to do was rip Brett's throat out. The struggle is intense but he's a work in progress. With Scott around to guide him, Liam feels better and safer to be around others.

Maybe she's right though. Maybe Al do wants him to be able to control himself first before they were to go out. All he wants is to go out with her on a real date, unlike what she did to him the other day. It wasn't even a party for him. That night he wanted to see her again but Scott have sent him home after his sister left them. Is it because of her fear of getting hurt by him?

Liam thought and tried to follow Al before it's too late. Just as he was about to take a turn, someone clutch on his left shoulder. Twisting his back, Liam turns to see Scott.

"Give her some time." He uttered. "Al needs to be alone for now."

It's anything but for the best. That's what I have been continuously trying to convince myself as I make my way home from school. My mind could barely flick to another matter for more than 30 seconds before it goes right back to Liam Dunbar. Is there any means whereby I could erase a fraction of my concern of him? I'd do it. I certainly would just as long as he don't drive me into becoming someone who craves for attention. In other words, someone who is in love. All along, their desires comprise of love, care and companionship.

That's precisely why people seeks love.

Whatever it is, at the end of the day, I can never be with someone like Liam. He is Scott's Beta and evidently younger than me. Although I refused to be referred to one of the ones who said, "age is just a number", it is in fact true. I choose to believe that an individual's age indeed does not mirror their wisdom. Although with Liam, it's hard to tell. The boy does have some issues to cope with and he still is struggling particularly after his turn. Clearly, I'd never know how hard it is to manage my anger when you're a werewolf. So full of rage and with the instincts of a predator is filling his veins, I could only sympathize him. I'm sure that he's putting in all the effort he has to control it though, he has to.

Walking out of the bathroom, I turn to glance at the digital watch placed on my desk. The lacrosse match will begin in a few minutes time. Since I'm home alone without any plans, I walk over towards my desk to scan through the pile of books. These are the novels which dad has bought me before I began my kickboxing trainings. At one point of time, dad even stopped from buying novels for me since he encourages me to interact with people and make friends instead.

For the past 2 hours, here I am. I stayed just so I could practice all alone without being judged or being stared at for being the girl who simply have too much steam to release. I don't understand how is it wrong for me to come to the gym and train relentlessly as the male species would to actually have the physique which they desire. But when a girl does it, everything seems wrong.

Personally, I'm certain that they're intimidated instead of really seeing this as something unusual.

What's odd as to how these men have chosen to stereotype as to how girls are incapable of beating the crap out of other people – be it females or males. There have been female fighters, not a lot are renowned as they should be but these women exist and they fight for a living. Frankly, I wouldn't merely be interested in the aspect of fighting physically alone. I want to be strong mentally and verbally as well.

If I could, I'd aspire to talk like a lawyer, think like a physician and fight like the girl I am to show off that females can be just as strong as men.

"I figured I'd find you here." Dad enters the gym, with a smile. "But it's late night, honey. Time to go home."

"What happened to go hard or go home?"

Instead of stopping upon his request, I'm still not ready to go home. I'm furious and utterly determined to build up on my strength. The looks that have been given to me earlier tonight had most definitely boost my adrenaline. Up till now, I find it hard to end my workout and hit the sack as soon as I reach home. I'm wide awake and I need this. I must continue just so I could tire myself out and eventually falls asleep to wake up the next day and be even more driven than I ever am right now.

Silently, dad then stops the punching bag and I couldn't possibly continue unless I'm willing to hurt my dad. In spite of being a foot shorter than him, I did "almost" beat once in arm wrestling and actually outdone him in several runs which we had around the neighbourhood. Since day 1, I've learnt to keep scores and I still do which dad clearly isn't fond of – especially at the mention at his loss to his beloved daughter in running.

"Honey, stop." With a stern tone, I shake my head before walking away. "Try going out some time too and,"

"What? Meet someone?" I retorted as I take off my fingerless gloves. "Then they'd leave me, so no thanks dad."

He then leans against the side of the square-circle ring as I am packing my things. Changing into a pair of slippers, I waiting keenly for his next response. I'm intrigued as to what his next answer could be because I'm unquestionably correct. My mum forget about me and so did my brother, what difference do I expect from strangers?

"Do you know what's one of the most beautiful qualities of a true friendship?" He paused, expecting an answer from me but I stare at him blankly instead. "It's to understand and to be understood. That's one step closer to have someone that would stick with you for quite a while Al."

Dad then heads out of the gym, in silence. Seeing how the advice he just gives me is irrelevant, I give the punching bag another punch. It happened to be the last one of the night and the one which I did with my gloves off. Cracking my knuckles at the same time as I walk out, I don't even consider to think twice of dad's latest word of advice.

While I have forgotten about the advice the next minute it was given to me while I was 15, I have effortlessly recall it at the thought of Liam. At the reminder of the memory alone, I twist my back to gaze at my closet.

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