Lone Ranger (Teen Wolf)

2- Vision

A pile of papers are dumped out of Malia's arms and onto her bed across from mine. Lazily, I look up from the sketchbook I was granted a year ago to see what she's doing. She's been gone all day and, now, she shows up with a pile of papers. Malia flops down on her bed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. I look back down at the drawing of a boy. I don't know who he is or why I'm drawing him, but I can't seem to stop.

Malia flicks through the papers, scattering them all across her made bed. Her face is scrunched up as she quickly reads through the pages. I keep my focus on the drawing of the boy, every once in a while peeking at Malia.

With her as my new roommate, I expected her to leave me alone, much like she said she would when she first moved in. All of that changed when I let her know that I knew about her past. Sometimes, I blurt things out just to prove to people that I'm not crazy, but that just makes them believe that I really do belong in this nut house.

Malia has been doing the exact opposite of leaving me alone. Since I blurted about knowing about her past, she has been hammering me with questions nonstop about how I know so much about her. Today is the first day that she hasn't been pestering me with questions. Malia was gone by the time I woke up this morning and she returns now at six in the evening.

Frustrated, Malia tosses all papers to the floor with one sweep of her arm. A low, animalistic growls comes from her. I raise one eyebrow, shading in part of the boy's face. The papers float to the floor, all flying across the room.

"Yeah, I feel the same way about biology homework." I quietly joke.

Malia snaps her head up to meet my gaze. "This is all your fault." She huffs.

"Oh?" I raise my eyebrows. I lower the pencil down to the paper beside the boy's face. "That's odd because I clearly remembering seeing you throw them to the ground."

Malia gives me an annoyed look. "No, I mean, you're the reason I had to go out and get those." She motions to the papers.

"What are they?" My interest in the matter peaks.

"Your files."

I frown as the words leave her mouth. "Care to explain why you have my files?"

Malia throws her hands up in the air. "Because you refuse to tell me what you are and there's literally nothing in here about what you are."

I snort in laughter. I shake my head once and return back to the drawing. "I could told you that there's nothing in my files about me. Well, they have the basics, I suppose. Name, age, family, past. But, there's nothing about what I know."

"What do you know?"

I smirk, knowing she's going to hate my answer. "Everything."

Malia's eyes narrow into small slits. "You can't possible know everything."

"But, I do." I chuckle. I half smile at the finished drawing of the boy. He's cute. I give him that, but I really wish I knew who he was. Only able to draw with a pencil, I couldn't make his hair dark brown or his eyes dark brown, like I expected them to look.

Malia sharply stands up, arms crossed over her chest. "Prove it."

I look back up from the sketchbook. "Why?"

"Because I don't believe that you know everything."

I set my sketchbook on the table between our two beds. I swing my legs off of my bed and stand up, becoming a little shorter than eye level with Malia. Like, half an inch shorter. "Malia, I don't have to prove anything to you." I smirk when her face shows annoyance. "Besides, you wouldn't believe me anyways."