Beacon Hills 1983

Chapter 55: Timothée's Secrets

(Teen wolf + Riverdale)

My head is pounding. I held back crying, but now I don't think I can cry at all. Although I'd hate to admit, Emel was right. It was too much to take in, too soon.

I'm on the route to the hotel, but find myself wanting to be somewhere else. With someone else. Angry, at someone else.

Angry at two people, to be specific. But let's start with one.

I change direction, and head to the South Side.

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The trailer park is just as it was earlier today, eery, but strangely peaceful. However, now there is no arguing coming from any of them.

My mind is exhausted, and it feels as if my body acts independently. I didn't realize that I'd knocked a door of one of the trailers, until I hear heavy footsteps from inside approaching.
Now woke, I quickly spin to leave.
There's a clicking noise.
"Shit!"
The door opens.

A gruffy, irritated voice answers, "What?"
I turn around and look at the man in the doorway. It isn't the handsome middle aged man from earlier.
"Sorry, wrong door." I say in one breath, and retreat.
The man huffs, "Looking for Timmy, are you?"
I stop in my tracks, not bothering to wonder how he knew.
"Do you know where he might be?" The words come out before I think to ask them.
"No. Sorry kid, Timmy isn't wanted here anymore." He says, before shutting the door in my face.

Wow. That was helpful.

I sigh. Step by step, my feet drag me away from the trailer park, but with no direction.

Ironic, isn't it? I'm right back where I started. Alone with my thoughts, and nowhere to go. An endless loop of déjà vu.

There's a sharp scent in the air.

Sweet, but sour. And also... metallic.

"Vampire." I mutter. Suddenly, I'm given direction.

On the side of the road ahead of me, is a red car at a complete standstill.
I narrow my eyes, noticing how the woman inside sits calmly, while a vampire drains her veins.

He must've compelled her.

"Hey!" I shout, quite a delayed reaction, and run to the car in some attempt to save the woman.
The vampire realizes sooner than I reach him, looks up for a second- a split second- and smirks. Suddenly, time has slowed, a millisecond becomes an hour, and I see beauty- nothing but pure beauty, in his vicious, blood-dripping face.
I blink, and he is gone.

Dammit. Why are vampire's faster?

The woman remains calm when I approach her window, and rolls it down.
"Yes?" Her voice is just as steady as her composure.
"Are you... Okay?" I ask, not really sure what to do now that the vampire is chased off.
"I'm fine." She smiles, then turns the key and drives away.

Weird. I wonder what it feels like to be compelled, and slowly drained of blood...
It couldn't possibly be as pleasant as the woman makes it seem.

And that face. That beautiful face, is imprinted in my brain.

Swept back chestnut hair, a chiseled jaw, eyes rich, and glassy brown- almost orange like the sunset, and skin the colour beach sand.