𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕,
𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝
Now, a new threat attacks Beacon Hills, and this time plays with Amelia's feeling when the question she never thought she'd ask arrives.
Who
Is
Stiles?
...
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AMELIA WALKED INSIDE HER ROOM, CHECKING HER PHONE.
"Hey, Isaac," called him Amelia, waiting he would appear from his room. "Have you seen my hairbrush?"
"Why would I have seen your hairbrush?" Asked her Isaac as he stepped out of his room, walking into hers.
Amelia sighed. "Because, I know you steal it." He scoffed as he jumped onto her bed, exhaling. "Stand up."
He shook his head.
"I want to sleep. And I want to brush my hair too," she mentioned, tossing her backpack to the floor and this one hitting something under the bed. "Crap," she whispered as she kneeled down, taking out the box. "I forgot this was in here."
She placed the box on top of the bed and Isaac was quick to sit up straight, looking at it curiously.
"What's that?" He asked as she opened the box, revealing the scrapbook inside. "That looks like girl stuff."
"It's my scrapbook from like third grade," she told him, taking it out from the box and sitting next to Isaac on the bed, with the book on her lap. "It was my perfect prom planned, my dreams, everything."
She opened it on the page with her dream prom, and Isaac pointed towards the headless man in the suit next to her.
"Who's that supposed to be?" He asked and she chuckled.
"My date, you doofus."
"What happened to your date's head, Marie Antoinette?"
Amelia looked at it, caressing the place where the head of her date was supposed to be.
"I remember it was Leo DiCaprio, but I took it off to replace it with..." Isaac frowned as she stopped herself.
"With who?"
Amelia lifted her index finger from the empty space, shaking her head. "I don't remember. Probably Brad Pitt," she joked before chuckling softly, closing the scrapbook and putting it on the box again. "So..."
"So, uhm... have you written in the journals Lizzie and I gave you?" She nodded. "That's great. What have you written?"
"Research," the girl replied and Isaac raised his eyebrows. "About the Verbena and, well, the Dread Doctors. Also the Beast. Just research."
"Your dad used to write about his daily life too. I bet he wrote about someone special. His feelings, maybe." She shook her head.
"You forget I don't have anyone to write about? Besides, I like writing about my species and about what I find about myself. Makes me feel more connected to who I am."
"You look tired," he mentioned as he stood up from the bed, while she laid down.
"Yes, tired of dealing with you all the time," she whispered.
