Chapter Four - Answers

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The events of last night weighed heavily on my forever worrying head; fuelling the overpowering anxiety that I'd tried so hard all summer to push away. I couldn't help but feel a burning hot hatred towards the world, all morning my mind has been trying to figure out what we deserved to have all of this bad karma thrust upon us. Why does everyone else get it so easy? Moving to Beacon Hills was supposed to be my salvation, after my father died I had no one until Jenna came along and took me under her wing. I was supposed to go to school without having to worry about anything other than SAT's, homework and senior prom; however the universe has a funny way of tricking you.

My teeth worried my bottom lip as I glanced between Lydia, Allison and Derek. Stiles, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Derek and I had all met up before school started in a vacant classroom to discuss the bruises on both Lydia and Allison's arms - that worryingly resembled one another. I almost snorted in amusement at the whole situation. Not even a bruise is just a bruise in Beacon Hills.

"I don't see anything," stated Derek blandly, arms folded across his chest in his usual broad stance as he shook his head dismissively. My eyes travelled towards Scott, who was having a hard time trying to convince Derek that he see's a pattern within the bruises. However, I wasn't quite sure why Derek was being so snippy towards the girls; after all, they were just trying to help.

"Well I do," Scott reasoned.

"How is a bruise going to tell me where Boyd and Erica are?" Derek asked skeptically, his eyebrows raising at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Honestly, I couldn't really blame him for being so doubtful. It's not as if Scott's theory is one hundred percent accurate anyway. He tried to say that the bruises were some kind of mark that somehow related to the whereabouts of Boyd and Erica.

I shifted on my feet as Scott spoke, "it's exactly the same on both sides. Exactly the same."

"It's nothing." Derek deadpanned.

"Pareidolia," Lydia said suddenly. I raised my eyebrows, for once I was able to understand what she was saying.

I cocked my head to the side, "you mean like seeing patterns that aren't there?"

Lydia nodded, "it's a subset of apophenia."

Scott shot Derek a pleading look, "will you at least try to help?"

I was surprised when an amused smile slid it's way across Derek's face. "Help? These two?" Derek scoffed and pointed at Lydia, "This one, who used me to resurrect my dead uncle, thank you."

He then pointed at Allison, whom I just realised was wearing a scowl on her face. "And this one, who shot about thirty arrows into me and my pack."

I mean, Derek had a fair point. If he didn't want to trust them, then that was his decision and he had every right not to. Stiles then decided that now was the right time to pipe up, and I immediately winced after he spoke. "Alright, hey, no one died. There may have been a little maiming - a little mangling, but no death. Now that's what I call an important distinction."

My eyes flickered towards Allison, who leaned towards Derek, her voice threateningly low, "my mother died."

I winced at Allison's words.

Derek didn't falter, "your family's little honor code killed your mother, not me."

I could tell that Allison's words have been needing to be spoken for a long time, and I could tell that she was bursting at the seems to blow up and unleash all of her rage upon Derek. If only she knew that Derek bit her mother for a reason; that reason being that she was in the middle of trying to murder a sixteen year old boy - Scott.

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