Tethered // Teen Wolf // Isaac Lahey

FIFTY-EIGHT

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KOREY

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"Exactly fifty-two steps away from the forest path, north of the pack house, in the spot where the sun breeches the trees and daisies grow in clumps," I mumbled to myself, following my own instructions with a bunch of white lilies clasped in my hand.

Archie's grave didn't have a headstone, but I'd rolled a rock up to it. I'd carved out his initials, his date of birth, and a small stick figure version of him with a smaller stick figure version of myself standing side by side. It was enough.

I cleaned the top of the rock off, setting the lilies in front of it before I pulled some weeds out with my hands, distracting myself for a minute until I was ready to talk. It was cold, the grass frozen and shrivelled. I hated winter because the daisies couldn't last all the way through it.

"Hey, dad, so, funny story," I sat down on the damp earth calmly, finally mustering up my courage, "well... not really funny, but I feel like you'd want to know why I'm not at school. No, I did not skip, some people actually died— that's not the funny part, by the way, what do you take me for?— the funny part is that I woke up for school, got ready and then, realised the school was shut because they found two dead bodies under the bleachers." 

My voice seemed to bounce off the trees around me, echoing back at me in an almost comical way. "On second thought, I should probably be a little less enthusiastic when telling that story."

Archie, for perfectly valid reasons, did not respond.

"I've been doing good in my classes, no chance of needing to take summer school," I continued, "A's and B's across everything except art, last assignment I got an A+ in art but... my new art teacher doesn't like my stuff. He says I'm afraid of something, and it shows in my art. He marked last week's homework at a D." I hadn't told anyone about it, and I'd thrown out the piece right after the class. I was supposed to have another art lesson today, but I was beyond glad not to have it.

The wind picked up slightly and I imagined that that was Archie sending a sign, one that I interpreted as 'Fuck him, what does the art teacher know? Is he even qualified?'

"What else is there to say," I hummed quietly, looking up through the tree line, "Scott's trying to figure out what attacked him on the hospital roof top.  It's not a werewolf, Isaac made sure to tell him that." My heart jumped then, my cheeks warming softly, "That's another thing." I turned my head back down to look at the rock, "You never got the chance to meet him but you would have loved him..." I trailed off slowly, swallowing the slight lump in my throat as my stomach flipped, "I think I love him. He's really nice, funny... he's good at making sure I'm not freaking out over little things, he—"

I'd turned my head to look through the trees towards the old pack house, mostly out of instinct, just checking to see if it was still there, still a reminder of my life before, a lasting memory. That was how I'd seen it, the slight shift behind the living room curtains.

I snapped up, bristling as my eyes sharpened, a touch of yellow pooling into my eyes, "Hey, dad, I'm gonna have to cut this catch up short. Seems like there's an unwanted guest at the house."

I crept forward, snapping my claws out of my fingers and pushing tree branches aside, stepping out from between the trees to get a better look at the house.

There was nothing in the glass now, the curtains still and settled but I wasn't fool enough to miss the line across the window where the dust had been shifted.

A soft snarl escaped my throat and I moved away from the trees, staring through every one of the windows I could see. This was my house, it had once been my home and I'd left it untouched to memorialise everything that had happened between the people who had once all lived together there. No one was welcome there.