Teen Wolf Fanfic | Theo Raeken

Chapter 1: Who Are You? What Are You?

As I pulled over, my light blue 2007 grand caravan rolled to a stop as six shots rang out. I threw it in park and stepped out onto the unfamiliar street, staring ahead in shock. I took a few quick steps forward, my eyes narrowing as they began to smolder with rage. A newer, blue Toyota Tundra was ahead of me, three men with guns surrounding it. Even at the slight distance, I could see fear flash in the men's eyes as they rushed to their black car and quickly peeled out of the very quiet side street.

They probably didn't think there would be a witness to what I assumed to be murder. Either that or those guys really had something against blue trucks. Or maybe they just preferred Chevys.

Phone in hand, I slowly approached the truck, afraid of what I'd find. Before I even looked into the window, the strong metallic tang of blood was thick in the air like I was walking into a slaughterhouse. One hand on the door handle, hesitating, I peered in.

There was blood everywhere.

With shaky hands, I removed my hoodie and placed it on the roof with my phone as I opened the rear driver side door. The boy couldn't have been much older than me, and for a moment I took in the wounds. A bullet to the head, four in the chest and upper arms, and one that had penetrated his stomach. Fuck.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself. I wasn't expecting anything, but still I reached for his neck to check for a pulse. When I felt a beat, and then a few moments later another, I pulled my hand back in shock. Inspecting the wound to his head, I realized the bullet hadn't gone far. It was barely embedded into his skin. I stepped back from the truck and ran back to my van, remembering the small medical kit I kept for emergencies. This, I figured, classified as an emergency.

I would've called 911 but I had no idea where I was or even what the street name was. Regardless, I'm sure that he would be dead by the time anyone else arrived.

I carried the kit quickly back to the truck and re-examined the wounds. I was no doctor, so I had no idea whether to remove the bullets or leave them in. I climbed into the cab of the truck with the unconscious and probably soon to be lifeless body. I opened up the kit, taking in what I had on hand. Gauze, band-aids, small scissors and some little cotton swabs. I highly doubt that band-aids are going to stop the bleeding from a bullet wound, I thought sourly. I tore off a large piece of gauze from the roll and folded it up several times. Starting with his head, I plucked out the bullet with ease and quickly pushed the gauze onto the wound. I was not aware of how close I was to this man until I could feel a sticky warmth pressed against my skin. It was his blood, soaked into my shirt which now clung to my body due to the added weight. Although my long light brown hair was up in a ponytail as it always was, even its tips had been soaked in blood. Extremely grossed out but not prepared to let a man die because I was uncomfortable, I reached for a few band-aids and used them like tape to hold the gauze onto his head. It was difficult on account of his hair, but the wound was where his hair was shorter, just in front of the tip of his ear.

Satisfied with that, I moved down to the next wound, on his shoulder. I closed my eyes and stuck a finger into the still bleeding wound, feeling the bullet just a little ways inside. I wasn't worried about how much pain he was in, seeing as he was unconscious, and I doubted that he would be waking up anytime soon after all the blood he lost. I made the decision to remove his shirt and seeing how it was soaked with blood I had no issue with cutting it off. I doubted that he'd miss it. Within the fraction of a second, my fingernails disappeared. In their places, over a two inch long, curved claw-tipped each finger. I had enough control where the claws only appeared on my left hand for the time being. I hooked the claws under the collar of his white tee and pulled down, easily slicing the shirt apart. I removed the tattered clothing and my hand returned to normal. Refocusing on the wound, I noticed that this one had stopped bleeding, and when I looked at the others they too looked better but still bled heavily. I focused on the one in his stomach instead, since it bled the heaviest. I poked into it, now straddling the man to get a better angle. Placing one hand on his muscular chest which I tried as hard as I could to not be distracted by, the claws came back on my left hand. I dug one of the claws inside, pulling the bullet out with the extra long digit. As I pressed gauze to the bleeding wound, I reached my other hand up to his neck again. For several seconds, I sat in silence, trying to feel anything.