"Hell is a teenage girl."
"Are... are you seriously quoting Jennifer's Body to me right now? Honestly, I was expecting a Carrie quote."
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Carrie Whittemore is someone you would never notice if given the circumstance. She's number two for e...
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Carrie was bad luck. She had wanted to have a home, no matter how stupid the thought was becoming in her head. At the age of ten, she was already getting less and less suburban couples looking to adopt, and more people looking to foster. There had been the Hammonds whom she stayed with the longest, a mom, a dad, and a daughter who had been fostering a baby, a set of twins, and her. It was safe to say that that had ended after she told her therapist that Mrs. Hammond tended to drink and throw bottles while Mr. Hammond watched. Judy had always covered her ears with her hands and sewed her eyes shut.
Carrie couldn't blame the girl, she had seen her in the home for girls she went to next. At six she was unnerving enough that older ones didn't like her. The taunting had been relentless in school, but at the home, it was even worse. Carrie thought that they didn't like themselves much either from the looks of it. She remembered one of them falling off a flight of stairs and horrible cracking sound as the girl's bones had been twisted in ways they shouldn't have. She remembers a scream ripping from their throats as they looked down at the blood-splattered floors. She was eight at the time.
Her social worker, Ms. Anna, refused to send her to another home after that. And then at nine, she had met the Malai's a nice Thai family who had taken her in because they wanted to adopt her. Excitement and hope brimmed out of the girl who had been nonstop chattering to Ms. Anna. A smile had been fixed to Ms. Anna's face as she drove to the Malai's house only to find it completely devoid of all human life. It had been a robbery turned homicide and Ms. Anna shielded Carrie's eyes from the brutal sight as she shakily dialed 911. She stayed with the Jones's after that ordeal.
At ten, Carrie was so tired of bouncing back and forth between families, never staying longer than a month. It's true what they say about foster kids, you can spot them because they can fit their entire life in a trash bag. Somewhere along the line in walked David and Abigail Whittemore who reeked of suburban royalty. They had met with Carrie ten times before asking her if she wanted to be fostered by them, warranting a shaky and confused yes.
The first six months were terrible. Carrie kept running away, Jackson would stop being a bully, and neither of them called David or Abigail anything but their names. And then she had started seeing Ms. Morrell. She had been a local therapist before teaching French. Within the next six months, Carrie was offered to take the Whittemore last name, and she did.
Since then, the calls to Ms. Anna were becoming a triannual ordeal. Once on Christmas, one on Carrie's birthday, and another on Ms. Anna's birthday. That was until the woman had been called by David Whittemore asking for information on Carrie's birth parents. All she found was Stella Murphy and Alex Cruz.
Carrie was bad luck.
Stiles Stilinski had major mixed feelings when it came to Carrie Whittemore. On the one hand, she was ridiculously pretty on the other she had finally lived up to her namesake of Creepy Carrie with her telepathy and telekinesis bullshit. And then there was the whole Jackson's sister thing. Don't get him started on Derek Hale. She had claimed to be on their side and then just yesterday she had been seen by Scott sidled up to Isaac Lahey. And then there was a fact that in his mind she was without a doubt the friend the kanima sought, or with the correct translation, the master. She was the enemy, without a doubt.
