𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, i. lahey

𝟎𝟎𝟑. the hunter and the prey

SIDELINES

____________

"SO," SHERIFF STILINSKI begins, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down at the two teenagers. "Both of you are the only people close to Isaac, at least according to him."

Jackson, sitting in the chair beside Emery's, holds up his index finger. "No, I'm not," he says matter-of-factly. "I only live across the street from him."

"Like I said," Stilinski breathes. "Close."

Emery shoots Jackson a glare, to which he shrugs in response. She fiddles with her thumbs anxiously. Stilinski takes notice. "Emery"—the girl looks up at him—"you and Isaac have been together for a while, right?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "A little over two years."

"How many times have you gone over to see the Laheys in the past two years?"

"Only twice." When the Sheriff raises his brows in surprise, Emery goes on. "We usually hang out at my place. Isaac always says his dad is busy or there's not much to do around his house. So, I hardly ever go over."

Jackson scoffs at her statement. "And you believed that? Really?"

"Hey, you might wanna watch it, jackass." Emery retorts with a scowl, gripping the armrests to her seat tightly.

"Let's just..." Stilinski puts his hand out, as though to separate them. He shakes his head. "Let's stay calm, alright?"

The witch reluctantly obliges, slumping down in her chair. She and Jackson were both pulled out of their chemistry class and asked to report to the principal's office. The Sheriff was already waiting for them— he needs witnesses for Isaac's father's murder case.

"Jackson, you seem to have something to say about this... situation," Stilinski turns to the boy. "Care to give us some insight?"

"There's not much to give," Jackson declares. "I could hear it almost every night. All the glass breaking, the yelling. It's not easy to ignore."

His sentence catches Emery's attention, and her gaze snaps over to meet Jackson's. Her lips part slightly, "What did you say?"

"Wait, so are you telling me that you knew Isaac's father was hitting him?" Stilinski gapes at Jackson, his features squinted in confusion.

"Hitting him? He was kicking the crap out of him," Jackson corrects.

"What?" Emery echoes. Guilt washes over her in an instant, her stomach twisting agonizingly as the revelation sinks in. Every time she saw the bruises on his face. On his arms. On his neck. He told her that they were from lacrosse — and she believed him. She should've known.

"D—Did you ever say anything to anyone?" Stilinski questions as he starts to stumble over himself. "A—A teacher, parents, anyone?"

Jackson shakes his head, pursing his lips. "Nope. It's not my problem." Emery stares in pure disbelief at his ignorance. Not his problem?

"No, no. Of course not," Stiles' father scribbles on the notepad in his left hand. "You know, it's funny that the kids getting beaten up are always the ones who least deserve it."