SILENT GUARDIAN ◦ STILINSKI; REWRITE [1]

epilogue;

EPILOGUE
(HAS NOT BEEN REWRITTEN)

​"Allison and I broke up."

Everything around them stilled; from the air in the room to their unwavering movements. Carter sat there, perch on her window bench, in complete silence – for the first time in her life she hadn't been able to come up with anything to say to the person sitting next to her. Despite the stillness in her chest, she felt a pang of guilt surge through her nonetheless.
​
She couldn't help but think that their break up was partially her fault, if she would've been able to keep her emotions in check, Scott and Allison might still be together and she wouldn't feel the sickening happiness flooding over the guilt. She wanted to be overjoyed by the revelation of the guy she liked being single, but she couldn't bring herself to rejoice.

​"Scott, I'm so sorry. Was there anything I could've done...," Carter tapered off, trying to think of a believable way she could be helpful.

​"There wasn't anything you could've done to change her mind," Scott looked at her. "Allison thought that by ending the relationship, it would miraculously make all of the problems in our lives go away. She believes that people who have done horrible things can't be trusted–"

​"Like my brother?" Carter asked. Scott nodded his head, and he reluctantly pulled his eyes off of her.
​
Carter knew that she was running out of time, knowing that if she didn't tell him in that moment than she never would. She knew that Scott deserved to know, especially after everything he had done to protect her and make her feel welcome after being an outcast in everyday society for over six years. He needed to know of the things she'd done; watched fires rising and rising, unstoppable, ravenous forces capable of taking everything from a person; blood so thick and red it covered every part of her mind.

​"Do you feel that way, as well?"

​"No, of course, everyone had redeemable qualities somewhere within them." Scott explained, moving his eyes back to her face, surprised by her sudden curiosity on the subject of redemption and trust. "Why do you ask?"
​
Taking a deep breath, she found her fear and locked it away in a distant part of her mind. Later, it could have free rein, but in that moment she needed no distractions.

​"I've done some bad things – some so horrid that you should refuse to even be in the same room as me," Carter began, eyes falling onto the loose string on her pajama shorts. Scott tilted his head to the side, his interest being piqued. "After the fire, Derek and Laura insisted that I leave Beacon Hills, but when you're a Hale people are constantly hunting for you. I tried to move from place to place as often as I could, keeping a low profile by only buying things I need with cash and not putting anything in my name – it worked for a couple years, but eventually they caught up to me."
​
Scott leaned forward, wanting to hear the rest of the story. "What happened when they did?"

​"I–" Carter's voice trailed off, mouthing agape as she moved her attention to her hands. Instantly, she recalled back to that night, blood covered her forearms; from the tips of her fingers to the pits of her elbows, and no matter how many times she showered, to her the crimson was permanently tattooed into her skin. It was a constant reminder of how dangerous she was without realizing it. "I – I can't. I'm sorry, Scott, I just don't think I'm ready for anyone to know just yet."
​
Scott was finally able to catch her eyes, seeing the warm pools forming in them as her hands fell limp in her lap. He reached out, grabbing both of them in his hands. "Hey, it's okay, I understand. But, when you are ready to tell someone, I just want you to know that I'll always be here to listen to whatever you have to say."
​
Carter sniffled, "You'd really do that?"
​
Scott moved his hands to her face, cupping it, "Of course."
​
He slowly leaned forward, his thumbs glide along her cheekbones tentatively; brushing a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. Before his lips could reach hers, he pulled back suddenly, his eyes searching her face for any signs of discomfort. And when he found now such sign, he leaned forward quickly, his lips finally smashing against hers.
​
A surge of warmth coursed throughout her body, muscles tightening beyond belief before relaxing and tightening again. Pressure was building up in her chest, filling the hole where all of the blood and pain dug its way into her bones – a pleasing and euphoric sensation pricked at her skin; something beyond the mundane realm was pushing her toward him.
​
And, ironically so, that was what scared her the most.