Into the Wreckage ▸ Scott McCall (3)

xxx. SHOT IN THE DARK

xxx. SHOT IN THE DARK

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Blood was slick on Ella Foster's hands, painting them in an non washable hue. The scarlet shade would forever paint her, seared into her like a tattoo. It was ink, a mark on the body that couldn't just be scrubbed away and forgotten. It was a reminder of the blood that always flowed in Beacon Hills, and her special connection to it.

Theo Raeken and Ella Foster were two sides to the same coin. Both sat on the roof, both bloodied beyond compare. One in attempts to save, the other in order to kill. And the one who killed was the one who could be the downfall of those who saved.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? Even those with the purest intentions could become killers.

"I know what happened to Donovan," Theo repeated, snapping both Stiles and Foster out of whatever trance they were in. Or, well, more like the realizations they have both reached. The fact that their number one enemy was the one who could strip them of all their friends.

They were liars - they were killers.

And Theo Raeken knew that.

"I know everything - "

Stiles' sneakers screeched against the roof, the boy darting toward the werewolf before them. Foster gasped, but didn't move. The boy's body was still cradled to her chest, and she couldn't bring herself to let go of him.

He went to her school and she couldn't even remember his name. And now he was dead. What kind of person was she?

Stiles and Theo scuttled back, only stopping when Theo's back slammed into the metal gate behind them. The electrical box sat within its confinements, sparks of electricity shooting off of it every other second. Stiles gripped Theo's shirt in his fists, applying pressure.

"You don't know anything," Stiles bit out, on the defensive.

Theo knew his darkest secret, the very person Stiles trusted least. And, more importantly, the very person who continued to weasel his way into Scott's good graces. In everyone's, really. No one except for Stiles and Foster seemed to notice the parasite slithering within Theo's mind. Foster had nearly succumbed to easy smile and false good nature. he threw in the charm, and Foster bit onto it like bait.

Theo clenched his jaw, quickly shifting their positions. Soon it was Stiles who was slammed against the metal bar, Theo keeping him pinned there. A choked sound of protest escaped Foster, but she couldn't bring herself to get up.

She just kept clutching onto the dead boy in her arms. He had to have been a sophomore. Maybe a junior? She didn't know, but now he was dead. He was never going to make it to senior year or college, and it was because the supernatural kept plucking out innocent teenagers to inexplicably decimate. 

"I was there!" Theo got out, and Foster felt her heart hammering incessantly. 

He was there he was there he was -

"I was at the library," Theo continued, as if that made any difference. If he was there - inside with them - then why the hell did he let Donovan have his way with them? "When Malia found the book, she was texting us to see where you were. She said she left you and Foster at the library. I told her I was close. When I got there, I heard the scaffolding come down."

"You saw him?" 

"Just the body," Theo explained.

Ever so slowly, Stiles' fingers began to uncurl from Theo's shirt. He let him go, and in doing so, Theo took a step back. Stiles' muscles were taut, as were Foster's, but the tension had eased back ever so slightly.