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"SO IT WAS JUST YOUR USUAL DATE NIGHTS YOU BOTH HAVE?" Ms. Tig found Dean to be the easiest out of most students who came into her office. Most sessions would be met with disinterest in talking. Dean walked in and asked to talk about the incident, she had not beckoned him. Nor was he mandated by Alaric to meet with Ms. Tig yet.
"We always go to this spot in the woods that has the perfect view of the town. Kennedy kept saying she was hearing something but I had this headache I always get and I didn't notice anything. So we just kept going but then—I." The room was silent as Dean stared down at his hands. His leg bounced incessantly and Ms. Tig watched as he wet his lips.
"You saw something." Nodding his head Ms. Tig could hear the oh god slip through his lips as he placed his face in his hands. Looking back up he watched as Ms. Tig jotted down several notes without even looking at them. Her eyes stayed locked on his and it was like she could see everything he was feeling. Several minutes passed and neither of them said a word.
"We were running. Whatever that thing was scratched her. Blood was everywhere and I—I pushed her when it ran at us. She fell down a hill and when I got to her she wasn't breathing anymore I—" A sob left his lips as recalled the traumatizing night. Ms. Tig stopped taking notes, she took a deep breath as she felt an uneasy feeling wash over her. The night was full of madness, she could remember the dejected look on his face as Faye and Henry brought him in. Henry carried him down to the transition cells while Faye was freaking out about a body in the woods. Alaric called Sheriff Donovan, Ms. Tig called Dean's parents.
"It's not your fault Dean. It was an accident," Ms. Tig said, handing him the box of tissues he placed it on the small table next to his chair. Shaking his head he was sure it was his fault, pointing out how they explained the werewolf curse. Ms. Tig sighed, deciding to steer the conversation in another direction she asked about his birth parents.
"I don't know anything about them. My parents woke up to their doorbell ringing one night and I was on their porch in a basket. Real cliche orphan story."
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