The Insatiable (Teen Wolf)

Chapter 2: Drawn In The Wrong Direction

Chapter 2

So there I am; cramped in the backseat of my family's Honda Pilot with piles of labeled boxes surrounding me. My left leg had fallen asleep at the one hour mark, being wedged between a box of kitchen supplies and my mother's extensive collection of scented candles. A box of my own belongings sat in my lap. Most of the three hour ride was spent having to grip onto the cardboard sides as my father drove over pot holes and turned corners at an unnecessarily fast speed.

A total of two conversations had taken place during the duration of this drive. Once when a lamp decided to continuously fall over with every turn the car made and becoming slightly too irritated, I lashed out at the piece of furniture. Whether or not it was determined that I broke said lamp, my mother only responded halfheartedly with an abrupt "Stop that."

The second conversation took place when my farther turned left instead of right at some intersection, causing my mother to give him a four minute lecture on why it was important to not ignore the directions the GPS was giving. Of course this lecture didn't come until my dad had drove us down an unpaved road to a farm where the stench of manure burning in the afternoon sun still found a way into our car.

But it didn't matter that the radio hadn't been put on once to ease the awkward silence; it didn't matter that I had refused to move less than two days ago, no matter what the cost may be, because here I sat watching as the car drove further and further into uncharted territory. I could only grip the box tighter and try to ignore the knot that began to form in my stomach at the sight of an old wooden sign appearing in the distance. As we grew closer the words, 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' appeared through the heavy fog that had settled on the road. The lettering was plastered onto the wooden plack in peeling white paint that had long since faded from years of wear.

As the cloud of mist evaporated closer to town, buildings began to come into view.

Beacon Hills didn't offer much to look at. The small California town was divided into three different sections of land; the very center focused on services many of the residents would need most. We sped past an animal clinic, tattoo parlor and several locally named grocery stores. But there was no mall; not even one clothing store in sight.

Traveling farther north, we entered the outer circle of what seemed to be a growing residential area. Houses built in every shape and size lined block after block of perfectly manicured lawns. I couldn't deny the beauty this small place held, but it made me wonder; even the most beautiful flowers in the world can be hiding the fact that they are slowly dying inside. Eventually those flowers wilt, destroying the illusion you fell for in the first place. What if Beacon Hills was no different?

But we didn't stop at any one of those houses. It wasn't until the pavement had surrendered to the wild forest growth and nothing but large oak trees towered over the road that the vehicle came to a halt. My father had been given the keys to a small ranch house on the outskirts of town. Originally we were expected to share a three bedroom apartment, but after my father spoke to the department they thought the beautiful outdoor scenery would help us adjust to our new surroundings. What better place for a teenage girl to feel at home then a two story house bridging on the edge of a rather dark and dense forest. If this wasn't the opening scene to a horror movie, then I don't know what was.

My father had barely parked the car in the gravel driveway before he was scrambling out of the vehicle and down the narrow stone walkway that led to our new home. I watched as he hopped up the three wooden steps and across the porch. I imagined hearing the jingling of keys as he fished through his pocket for the chain. My mother blocked my view as she craned her head in my direction. "Honey, why don't you help me with the boxes while your father checks the house out?"