The Best Friend (Teen Wolf)

Chapter Four

"Scott." I blow out a sigh. "What do you want?"

"Stiles told me what happened. Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. I'm always okay." I mumble, pulling the blanket closer to my face. I close my eyes and push myself deeper into my bed. The feeling of emptiness is familiar.

Scott walks over and places his hand on my shoulder. Upon touching me, he flinches back.

"You're in pain." He whispers.

"Just go home, Scott. Please." I whisper, pushing myself away from him.

"No, I could take it—" he leans forward again, but I hold the blanket up as a shield.

"No, it's okay, I'm used to it. My mom thinks it's depression," I look over the blanket for a second and force a smile.

Scott sighs and pulls out his phone. I drop the blanket over my face. I hear the dull beeps as he calls someone.

"Hello?"

"I think you should come see this."

"What is it?"

"It's—" he sighs, "come to Emma's house. She needs you."

"I'll be there in five."

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Scott opens the front door and greets someone. I hear him turn to face my door.

"She's in her room." Scott whispers. My door slowly opens and the soft clicks of heels echoes around the room until the person is standing right next to me.

"Emma?" Lydia.

I groan and push myself deeper into the bundle of blankets. "Leave me alone!" I shout, pulling my head closer to my knees.

"Emma, is it the depression?" Lydia asks, settling down on the bed and rubbing my leg. I slowly nod my head.

She stops rubbing my leg and instead lays next to me. "I'll wait it out with you."

A soft smile tugs at my lips. "Thanks." I whisper, slowly spreading my legs out and finally uncovering my face.

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Six hours later, I convince Scott to take Lydia home. Mom will be home soon and I don't want her to ask questions.

I face the wall again and pull the blankets up to my chin. I dig around the covers until I find my phone.

I turn it on and search YouTube for Carly and Erin. I click on the first video I see and waste my time away.

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"Emma? Emma, I'm home!" Dad calls from the lobby. He drops something on the ground and walks to my doorway. He frowns when he sees me on my bed. "Are you sick? Come on, help me carry in the equipment."

I nod and drag myself out of bed.

Mild anger boils in my chest as I lug the camera equipment up the stairs and into the house. I press my fingernails into my palms as best I could in an attempt to suppress the hatred. I find relief in the pain and almost smile at the lack of numbness.

As soon as we're done unloading the car, I shuffle back to my room and fall face first into my pillow. I release a sigh and try to pull the covers over me. I fail miserably.

The soft blue blanket covers just about my feet when the heaviness presses against my body and leaves me sprawled across the bed.

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I wake up to Mom's alarm. It's going off like crazy in their bedroom across the hall.

I groan, pushing my face into my pillow and wrapping the blankets around my shoulders. I try to tune out the sharp beeping, but my stupid mind won't let me.

Cursing the faulty heater, I throw off the blanket and push myself out of bed.

I shiver as soon as the frigid air hits my skin. I rub my arms as I stumble across the room and slip on the first sweatshirt I could find.

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I walk into the kitchen to find it empty. Dad walks in with the same clothes he wore yesterday.

"Dad? Where's Mom?" I question, glancing at his disheveled hair and his crooked glasses.

"She has an early appointment. She should be home tomorrow," he mumbles, hastily walking down the hall and slipping off into the bathroom.

I leave before he comes out.