ShapeShifting |Liam Dunbar|

Prologue

 Some people believe that destiny or fate exists, that things happen for a reason. I, personally, believe that things happen by choice. That the future depends on which choice you pick, whether you go down the good path or the bad path at a crossroads. Let's just say that if life does go by choice, then I'm on my way down the bad path and I just signed my name in blood.

I dropped my pen on the old, chipped desk, thinking. Racking my brain for better words to choose or even any words at all. I rubbed my freckled face and stood up from my rolling desk chair and started to pace my room, thinking of ideas for my paper.

"This paper will be the death of me," I harshly whispered running my fingers though my hair and pulling at the roots in frustration. Once my train of thought started flowing again, the phone rang, making the train fly of the tracks once again.

"Don't answer that!" Dad's voice rang though the hallways of the old house. This only made my spastic, older brother come barreling into my room towards the only phone on the second floor of the house. He put the phone up to his ear, entering the phone call.

"Stiles," I warned, my hands were on my hips as he looked at me, raising his eyebrows. "At least, cover the receiver, so they can't hear your heavy breathing." I sighed at my nosy brother and sat down in front of my paper again.

 Oh, teachers, how much I hate you for assigning papers. Oh, papers, how much I hate you for existing.

"Come on." Stiles whispered as he gently hung up the phone. "We're going to Scott's." He walked across my wooden floor to only throw me my denim jacket and a pair of beaten up black converse.

"Why? And shouldn't we wait for Dad to leave first." I furrowed my eyebrows at him while slipping my shoes on without untying them.

"Oh, didn't think of that one. Good thing you're the smart one." I rolled my eyes at him.

"Again. Wh-?" Our Dad knocking on the dark brown molding of my doorway cut me off. Our head snapped to him, waiting for him to say something along the lines of leaving.

"The station called me in for tonight. I left some money on the counter for you to order something for dinner." He was about to turn and walk down the hallway, but leaned back inside my room. "And no leaving the house." He eyeballed us as we nodded our heads and agreed with the smile of innocence on our faces.

Once he was down the rickety stairs and out the door, Stiles and I raced to the tiny window I had facing the driveway. Dad slowly backed out of the driveway, honking as he drove away to "the station".

"I call driving!" I pushed Stiles over, giving myself a head start to the kitchen, where Stiles always leaves the keys to his Jeep.

"No way! You're not driving my car! You're fourteen and you don't even have your permit! Also, it's my car!" Stiles yelled, tripping on nearly every step down the stairs, but still some how he managed to beat me. "Ha!" He laughed as dangled the keys in my face. I tried to swat at them, but he pulled them away and pushed me in the direction of the front door.

"Now, be a good little sister and behave. Remember I can always make you sit in the back seat." Stiles threatened, only to have me give an eye roll in response. I always have to sit in the back anyway because Scott has marked his territory on the passenger seat. I opened the side door and slid onto the old, used seat.

"Scott's not answering his damn phone." Stiles grumbled and slammed the driver's side door. "See if he'll answer you." He pulled out onto the main road towards Scott's house.

"Why do you think he'll answer me if he's not answering you?" I questioned, pulling out my phone and setting it next to Stiles's cracked one on the dashboard.