The Insatiable (Teen Wolf)

Prologue

Prologue

 The Walcotts had never been close to my family. In fact Christina, my mother's older sister, had made it quiet clear to her younger sibling that she was to stay clear of their growing family. The demand came rather quickly, devastating my mother. But despite how close she had always believed to be to Christina, she excepted her sister's wishes and looked for the courage to move on. Michael and Christina had two sons after that. David the older one of the two, was only 18. Sean was my age, 16. But despite the similarities in age, she kept her agreement to seclude us from any further contact. That meant no phone calls, no emails, and not one Christmas card. They stayed cut off from any other family, living hours away in the quaint town of Beacon Hills.

But it didn't matter that my mother's acceptance had come years ago. It didn't matter that we went through our lives without even thinking of the Walcott's. Because Death doesn't care about those things. Death comes like a hurricane on what could be a year's worth of cloudless days and it tears everything down in its wake.

I had gone to bed early. After all, it was a school night and I had a daunting algebra test to take in the morning. But when the screams start, I know no math test in the world matters.

Exhausted whales echo through the house, ripping me away from a dreamless sleep. Like a constant hum the piercing shouts continue without pause. Wavering in and out of consciousness, I struggle to read the face of the digital clock on the nightstand beside my bed without fog clouding my vision.

Another round of shrieks erupt through the house, finally seeming to snap me out of my daze. These screams were a woman's. A woman I had heard yell enough in my lifetime to know when she was past the point of arguing. The screams belonged to my mother.

Throwing the layer of covers off my body, I clamber out of bed. A chill hits my bare arms and legs where a rather small pair of pyjama bottoms and tank top wouldn't cover. I wasn't exactly prepared to go stumbling down our wooden staircase at one in the morning and I certainly was not in the greatest state to go dashing through the unlit hallway that awaited me at the bottom. But nothing could prepare me for the sight of my mother's body, shuddering with every weep that escapes her mouth as she lays collapsed in my father's arms.

When I step on the wrong floorboard and a creek echo's through the living room, my mother's eyes quickly lift to mine. But she doesn't look like my mother, not in this state. Her blue eyes that always seem to resemble the choppy waves of a busy ocean are dull, covered over by the redness that came with crying. She was only forty, but in this instant she looked years older. Purple bags rimmed the clammy skin beneath her eyes and her hair that was usually combed out in perfect curls, was a frayed mess.

If I looked surprised by her current state, there was no way of telling for sure. My mother had always been the type of parental figure to show very little emotion when it came to being upset or frustrated. But now she had nothing to hold her back and the sight of her child only seems to unleash another chorus of strangled cries.

My father on the other hand, looked the same as he always did. His uncombed hair is brushed to the side and unshaven scruff lines his jaw. The only thing that gives away any agony is the tears glistening in the corner of his clouded brown eyes. But I am sure it was the sight of his wife crumpled over in pain that was bringing on these tears.

There wasn't anyone else standing the dimly light living room. Which leads me to believe that whatever had caused my mother to act out had come by phone. The phone my father is currently holding in his left hand, while the right keeps his wife from collapsing completely onto the floor.

"Dad?" I speak up for the first time. My voice is barely audible over my mother's exasperated cries.

His head whips in my direction, while he throws up the hand holding the phone. "Sage." he says at first, as if he had forgotten he had a daughter among the chaos. Then, clearly forgetting his only child was of the age to handle most situations, he speaks to me like I'm a child that could burst into tears at the slightest touch. "Honey, go back upstairs. Your mother is fine."

I wasn't much for listening to directions, especially when they were given to me in the tone one might use on a young child or dog. The very reason why I spent half of preschool in the time out corner. Being that my father had witnessed my stubbornness at such a young age, you think he would have learned by now. "Dad, what's going on?" I repeat myself.

My father lets out an exhausted sigh. "This isn't right. You shouldn't have to find out like this-" Before he can finish speaking, my mother is drowning him out with her sobs. He pats her on the back until the cries die down.

"Find out about what? What happened?"

Leaning mother up against the leather couch for support, he straightens his back so we can speak on level ground. Then he begins to walk towards me.

I remember when I was no older than six or seven, I had been promised that I could go to an amusement park for my birthday. I was over-run with excitement. I got my parents to cross out each day that passed on the calendar with a bright red marker. When the day finally came I raced down the hall to wake my parents, but they were all ready up. My father had on a suit and his leather brief case in hand. I still recall the look he and my mother shared, almost as if they were warning one another to be cautious. Then my father walked towards me, each step in his fancy shoes echoing through the room. When he had finally approached me, he bent down until our eyes met. All the eagerness was gone from mine, where his held a glimmer of sympathy for the young child he was about to disappoint. He told me that we would have to reschedule the trip to the amusement park and then, knowing there was worse news to come, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder twice.

Turns out there had been development in a homicide case my father had been looking into at the time and he was called in to further investigate. But what I remember most about that day was how heart broken I was. Not about the cancelled trip to the amusement park, but the absence of my father. He didn't return home until well past my bed time. I spent the day with my mother, eating cake and opening presents, but it wasn't the same. I never fully understood why my father thought a simple gesture would make up for the disappointment. But maybe it was his way of putting okay into more than words.

So when my father walks towards me, I no longer feel like I am sixteen. I feel like I'm seven again, watching as he comes to break the bad news. But something tells me this is much worse than some cancelled birthday plans. And I know what my father tells me next will stick with me for the rest of my life. He puts his hand on my bare shoulder and clears his throat to speak, "I'm so sorry. It just- it happened so fast." He squeezes my shoulder twice for reassurance.

It was clear now. All the screaming in the world wasn't going to compensate for what was to come.

Author's Note:

Hey, so if you've read my other work you know I am a big fan of Teen Wolf. I wrote a separate series called "The Untold Story Of A Beta" which will soon becoming to an end. This time around I have a lot more experience with writing, so I'm hoping this book can work out smoother. It will follow Sage who is related to the Walcotts. For those that don't watch the show, don't worry you won't have to in order to understand this book. But if you have then you remember the Walcotts were the family murdered in the third or fourth episode. They turned out to be Wendigos (a creature I was both intrigued and terrified by thanks to Supernatural) Now the writers didn't dive much into the mythology of Wendigos and probably won't for a season or two. But I wanted to do a story that focused more on the Walcott's and the dead pool that got them killed. Now I'm not labeling this as a direct fan fiction to one character on the show. My last series revolved around Stiles but it was not a Stiles Stilinski fan fiction. That doesn't mean I have anything against people who do so. I just want to focus more on the character I'm creating and their story arc before developing a romantic relationship. If I did have to pick a character that this story would focus on it would be Liam. Mostly because his storyline overlaps with Sean Walcott's and because Sage is also a freshman. So I hope you guys enjoy and thanks for reading. :)