-BEACON HILLS. What was thought to be a normal town hidden in California was anything but if you stayed long enough to break past the facade of its small-town charm.
Because if you look past its many lacrosse state championships, unexplained murders...
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-IV'E NEVER BEEN TO THE Hale house before.
Sure, I've seen plenty of pictures in news articles and online web feeds, but I've never stood in person in front of it.
I faced the hulk of rotten wood the color of gray ash. It was a shell of what it used to be; a desolate reminder of what had occurred here and what had been lost.
My eyes roamed the cracked and shattered exterior. I could imagine what it had been like in its prime; big, welcome house that the whole Hale family shared. Maybe they had a porch swing that Mrs. Hale would to sit on with her children and tell them stories about her childhood. Little Derek would roam around these woods with his sisters and his cousins until the sun fell beyond the horizon and the kitchen glowed with the promise of supper.
As much as I wanted to fantasize a reality where the Hale family had never experienced such a tragedy, it would never mask the sting of the truth.
They had been murdered, leaving a lone son to wander the wreckage and bury everyone that had ever shared his blood.
The wind picked up, and I shoved my hands into my navy blue hoodie. Im not so sure I was shivering just because of the chill alone. This place had an aura around it that was certainly not comfortable to say the least.
Ok. Enough stalling. Just go talk to him, Gracie.
This isn't supposed to take long. The parent-teacher conferences are tonight, and I'm supposed to go with my dad. I was supposed to meet Isaac, but when I'd asked he'd deflected and told me his dad was going so he'd be fine.
I waded through the front yard and tread carefully up the rotting porch, surprised that the planks didn't splinter under my weight.
If Derek was who Stiles said he was, he already knew I was here. He'd have been able to tell the minute my car entered the woods to get here.
The weathered door taunted me. With a slightly trembling hand, I pushed it open.
The foyer was in rough shape. A large staircase straight in front of me rose up to the second level, where a hallway split off on both sides leading to what I'm assuming are rooms. There were two hallways on the bottom level next to the stairs, one that led to a room I couldn't see and the other emptying out into what used to be a living room.
A grand chandelier coated with cobwebs and a thick layer of dust hung still and imposing over my head. Though it was covered in ash and dirt, a maroon carpet ran up the stairs. This house must have been beautiful before everything happened.
The most notable part was the silhouette of a man standing at the top of the stairs.
My heart jumped, but I made eye contact with a very curious Derek Hale.
