Beacon Hills 1983

Chapter 48: Sunnyside Trailer Park

(Teen wolf + Riverdale)

Aimlessly.
I walk aimlessly.

What am I doing?
I don't know this place.
Should've told Lucy to come with.

...Should've told Lucy a lot of things.

Its not too late to turn back and spill my guts. About the kanima, about Emel, about Heather.
But I don't think telling Lucy is, or ever was the problem.
I think the problem is me.

My refusal to accept this... this mess.
I just wish life would go back to the way it was before I knew Lucy was a witch, vampires existed, Talia became the alpha, Lucy met Taylan, and most of all, Billy and I confronted each other.

Life was simple. Easy. Predictable.
Now it's complicated and tangled.

I'm not sure how long or far I've been walking, but it feels as if I've entered the down part of town.

Hushed voices in an alley catch my attention.

"Did you bring it?"
"Yeah, obviously."
"How long is Tim staying?"
"Few days."
"Dang it! Not long enough to supply us for the rest of-"

I accidentally step on a used liquor bottle. Glass crunches under my boot.
"Shit!"
Quickly, I dive behind a dumpster.

"Birk, did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That noise, you dingus!"
Birk sounds nervous,
"W-we should get outta here."

The two boys scramble.

Did he say Tim? As in... Timothée?

Confusion only upsets me, and my chest feels heavier by the second.

Claws rip out of my nail beds.
The warm glow covers my eyes, and I fall to my knees.

Long awaited tears of frustration dribble down my cheeks.
I sit in a fetal position, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time.

Beverly is dead.
Taylan probably cheated on Lucy.
Lucy really likes Taylan.
I'm lying to my best friend.
Timothée's a mystery.
A deputy had my mother's scent.
Billy wants nothing to do with me.
Emel is the master...

Greg is the kanima.

Eventually, the tears stop and I pull myself together.
Crying made me feel lighter.
Air fills my lungs as I leave the alley- only to realize how lost I am.
"Shit..." I mutter, in a brief moment of panic.
I look around and spot a trailer park faintly in the distance.
Relief rains on me, once again.
Perhaps I could stop by and ask someone for directions.

As I approach the sign at the entrance, 'Sunnyside Trailer Park', the gate creaks to indicate it's unlocked.
Carefully, I walk in, analyzing the unlike rows of white trailers.
If not for the partially bushy grass and occasional litter, the place would seem almost strangely serene.

Noticeably among the overall quietness, shouting and swearing comes from a trailer deeper within.
Although this is unnecessary snooping, I move further and closer to the raucous.
My chemoreceptors identify negative emotions. Irritation, anger, aggression.
Two heartbeats are pumping erratically, fueled by rage.
The people inside are having a heated argument.

Suddenly, to my astonishment, the door swings open, and a well known book-page peach-tinted scent is released.

Timothée storms out.

"That's it! I'm done with you, Dad- I'm fucking done!"
"Timothée! Get your ass back inside!"
A handsome middle aged man with a neat beard pops halfway out of the trailer.
Tears stream down Timothée's face.
"You just had to get rid of her too- Didn't you?!"

I never thought someone as shy and timid as Timothée was capable of this much anger.

But then again, he does have that rarely exposed daunting side.

Who knows what THAT'S capable of?

The man continues yelling, "Its not my fault! She made her choice-"
Timothée throws his arms up in despair, interrupting the man, now with a soft voice, "Was losing me not enough, Dad?"

The man says nothing.
But stares sadly- or coldly- into Timothée's green eyes.

"Well." His arms drop to his sides, voice trembling with disappointment, "I wasn't expecting much from you anyway."
Timothée turns to walk away.
The man swears, defeated, and slams the door so violently, the whole trailer shakes.
Timothée sniffs, and looks up.
My presence is finally acknowledged.

His facial expression is equivalent to that of someone who'd just seen a ghost. His mouth opens to say something, but is too stunned to get the words out.
Quite frankly, I'm too stunned to speak either.
Timothée averts his eyes, grabs my hand and pulls me with him till we're out of the trailer park.

"What are you doing here?"
Unlike his usual cheerfulness, he sounds just as grim as he looks.
"I... got lost."
"Yeah, well you don't just get lost all the way to the other side of town, Nes."
His hand grows tight on mine.
I'm still too surprised by what I just saw to let go or talk back.

"C'mon." He says, much less angry, but not quite relaxed.
"Let's get you back to the North side."

And with that, the boy expertedly guides me through foreign streets.