❝In my entire life, I've seen more dead people than living.❞
❝I will kill you and when you come back as a ghost, I will kill you again.❞
In a town filled to the brim with the supernatural, the dead have a lot to say. But is Harley willing...
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN Shadows
HARLEY WASN'T SCARED of death. At least, not hers. It was something that was inevitable. It was just a matter of when and how. The why didn't matter as much because the result was ultimately the same. But the death of her father? That shook her to her very core. She couldn't go through life without him.
He uprooted his life for her– always put her first. He cooked meals for her even when he was tired after coming home from work. He stayed up all night when she was sick with a bucket in his hand and bottle of water in the other. He comforted her when she was upset, always being a shoulder to cry on whenever she needed him. He stuck glow in the dark stars in every room of the house because he knew she was scared of the dark. She couldn't lose him.
Noah had insisted Harley went home and then proceeded to call Stiles who then called Scott. And before Harley knew it, the rest of the protect Beacon Hills gang were standing in her living room.
She stopped listening when Derek and Isaac arrived which felt like forever ago. Derek driving her home earlier that night felt like forever ago. Everything and everyone was starting to piss her off. The sound of their voices. The dirty looks Allison kept shooting Derek. Lydia's questions. Isaac's cluelessness. Scott's never ending optimism.
"We'll find him, Harley." Scott swore when he noticed her quietly sitting on the couch, bringing her out of the flash of rage she was simmering in.
"No, you won't." Harley deadpanned. She looked at the framed photo of her and her father above the fire place. She was six and Joe was carrying her with one arm and held the camera in his other hand. They were making silly faces into the mirror at their old house. Just her and her father, like it had always been. "Not until it's too late at least. None of you find anyone until it's too late."
Allison's eyebrows furrowed. "Harley, I know you're angry, but that's not fair."
"None of it ever is, is it Allison?" Harley countered as she glared at the girl.
"Harley, we're your friends. We just want to–"
"Friends?!" Harley echoed with a bitter laugh as she cut Lydia off. Her anger had completely taken over her and she didn't care if her following words hurt. "The only reason any of you decided to talk to me is because you found out about me and you only keep me around whenever you need me to talk to ghosts. You're not my friends, you're just people I share the supernatural with." With everyone staring at her, speechless, an idea hit her – a very bad idea. "None of you can save him, but I can."
Then Harley did the one thing she was warned against. She crouched on one knee and closed her eyes as she held her hand out. Her own shadow began to rise out of the floor.
