Banshee (Teen Wolf FanFiction: Derek Hale)

Chapter Twelve: Burned

I don’t tell Derek or Scott and Stiles that I’m leaving. I don’t even realize I’ve left until I’m standing in the middle of the woods, outside a burned down house. My car isn’t here and I glance down at my mud covered shoes. I look around. The sun has already disappeared behind the clouds. Out here at night, knowing what’s haunting Beacon Hills, I feel overly exposed.

There’s a part of my mind screaming at me to turn back. To go back to Derek and never wander off again. Then there’s the other part. The part that’s worried for Lydia. The part that knows following every lead this girl gives me will provide the answers I’ve been looking for. So, I ignore the other screaming part and walk towards the house.

The front of the house is still pretty well intact. The fire had been set towards the back by the looks of it. Still, the stairs on the porch creak and groan under my weight as I step up them. My approach isn’t a silent one and I cringe at every sound the boards make under my feet. The door to the house is already cracked open and I hesitate.

I take one deep breath and push the door open the rest of the way. The hinges screech the entire way and I frantically search the woods in the hopes that no one is close enough to hear. I step inside the house and the first thing I feel is the overwhelming presence of death. It’s almost enough to send me fleeing from the burnt remains but I steer my body forward.

With each step I take, the sounds of the house become louder. It’s more than old floorboards and rusty hinges, though. There are loud screams of anguish and despair. Screams of pain and torment. People died here and they died violently. It isn’t until I’m standing in the foyer by the stairs that I truly feel their pain.

The pain becomes physical and I gasp against it. I can literally feel the flames of the past licking against my skin as though I were there when the house first burned. The pain is blinding and I stumble forward, my hands searching for something—anything—to hold onto. I take one more step and everything stops. Instead, the white-hot pain is replaced with a cold, stale death.

I shiver on the spot and look at the floor. The boards appear to be untouched but I don’t like were I’m standing. I raise a hand and stretch it out, testing the surrounding area. After a couple of feet, my hand sears with pain and I jerk it back. It’s then that I notice how much of a physical reaction I’ve had to walking into the house.

Ugly, red blotches mark my skin. Some are already blistering. I observe my hand and it looks as though I’ve spilled scalding water onto it. Suddenly, I’m very afraid. I’m afraid to move. I’m afraid to stand still. Part of me thinks to call Derek but I realize my phone isn’t with me. Had I left it at the substation?

My legs sink under me. At my new level, I notice footprints on the floor. There are small and barefoot. Instinct tells me they belong to Lydia. She had been here, then. I glance to the front door; my exit. It’s going to hurt but I know I have to leave the house. I got the answer I came here for and now I need to get out.

With every ounce of will power that I could gather, I shove myself from the safety circle and make the quick dash to the door. It hurts and I almost buckle over from the pain a couple of times but I make it. When I get to the door, I fling myself through it not caring that I used too much force which sends me toppling down the porch steps.

I lay there. My breaths come in deep and shaky. Parts of my body still hurt and I know that I still have the burns. Even though I’m free of the house, I still feel the same fear. Never before have I had a reaction like that. Nothing so physical.

After a few moments of lying there, I raise up and sit on my legs. I glance back up at the house. The door is wide open and I can still hear the screams. Except now they’re more like whispers, trying to draw me back in. I force myself to stand and begin the long trek out of the woods hoping beyond hope that I don’t get lost.