Being Human in Beacon Hills - Nolan Hollaway

Chapter 1 - The Winter Home

Just wanted to give a shout-out to for giving me the first motivation for this story.

Thank you for reading, please enjoy and comment.

Also this song cover is amazing and I think it really fits Nolan's life currently.

From Nolan's POV:

Hate to break it to you, but I'm still alive. 

I'd been walking through the streets for a while, which wasn't good, but I had no choice. As winter was blowing in, I needed to find a warm shelter, which as a war criminal, was not something I could just search up on Craigslist. 

Delirious from hunger, I'd wandered through a neighborhood. Seeing the Sheriff's cop car parked outside of a house made me stand taller and act normal. The Stilinski's must live here, I thought as I paced by. Hunger, like a horrible demon, ripped at my stomach, and made me wish I was dead. But I couldn't die yet. I had to turn this life of mine around. Somehow...

I didn't want to die. I wasn't scared of death, but I didn't want to be a waste of space, a wasted life, a useless monster that happened to be human.

Down the road, a forest began of the side off the road. And in that forest, something gleamed, reflecting the weak sunlight of November.

I stumbled after it. Maybe it was an abandoned car. I could close it up and use it as a shelter...

When I uncovered it from the dead brush over it, I could see it was an old, blue shipping container.  I opened the rusty door slowly and took my flashlight out of my backpack.

Doing a quick once over, I could see no one was here, or had been in a while. A desk sat against one wall, with a beaten up dresser, missing half its drawers, stood along the other. A ratty couch laid in the back, spreading between the two walls of sheet metal.

A dusty space heater sat next to the door. Out of the back a yellow electric wire attached. It snaked up the wall and out of the container to the roof, where a ventilation hole was cut.

Above the desk was a bulletin board, a calendar from last year pinned to it. A worn leather coat hung on the wooden chair tucked under the desk.

I walked back outside. Why is it so cold?

Clearly this place was up for grabs, but it seemed like no one was ever supposed to see it. It looked like a planning room of some sort, with all the red string and pushpins I found in one corner. And it was right in the open. I looked around and realized why that was.

The person in this container hadn't been around since last year. When they were around, they probably covered the container in foliage and camouflaged it.

With that, I put my backpack down and got to work. Two hours and a lot of tree branches later, it was covered. I had found a rung ladder attached to the back wall of the container, and had climbed onto the roof.

It seemed the space heater was powered by a small solar panel on the roof, which I made sure not to cover. I tried to turn on the space heater, and it puttered to life, only lasting a few minutes, before it died again.

Using my lock (for a bike that had been stolen two weeks before) I locked myself in and attached the key to my jeans. It was getting cold, so I curled up on the couch with a small, ratty blanket I had.

It was getting colder and it was dark out now. There was no light, so I'd put my flashlight on the desk. I'd have to scrape together some money and buy a battery powered light.

I looked at my phone. 11 pm. I was too cold and hungry to be awake. I put on my second sweatshirt, and the leather jacket I'd found, and wrapped my legs in the blanket. I'd left the light on, so I managed to see something on the inside of the jacket.

If found, call *** *** ****.

Interesting...

I entered the number into my phone, promising I'd look for the owner of this container tomorrow. Hopefully they didn't want this place back. I'd seen a lot on the few months I'd been on the streets, and if there's one thing I learned, you don't mess with someone's turf. It might end with you going six feet under. That's if they found the body...

With that happy thought, I drifted off to sleep.