SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
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the last chimera
"I lost, mom." The defeated voice of Scott McCall mumbled as he lay on his blood-stained sheets, the nurse tending to his wounds as he lay there, hopeless. He couldn't fathom it. How he had let it happen. He had let Theo manipulate him, he had allowed him to break apart his pack, to break him apart from each of his friends, one by one, gaining the pack that he wanted, the one he had come to Beacon Hills to get. And because he had lost faith in his best friend, because he wasn't a better Alpha, he had succeeded.
"Every leader suffers loss," Melissa told her son. She could see the pain in his eyes, the true look of defeat. It wasn't a look she often saw in the boy she had raised, he was always the optimist, if everyone in the world had lost hope, he would be the one to keep them going. He was a leader, a natural one at that. He didn't have to try, he always hoped for the best, he always believed there was light at the end of the tunnel, that things would get better somehow. He'd had that mindset for as long as she could remember, but now when she looked at him she saw a boy who'd lost all of that. Theo had taken much more than his pack, and momentarily his life. He had taken some of the very things that made Scott McCall, Scott McCall. The woman knew this was a moment of teaching, where she could tell her son to forget about it, to get on with his senior year before he moved away for college, he could start a new life and forget about what he had lost tonight. Or she could continue to instill hope in her son. She could continue to believe that this was what he was meant to do. To be the true Alpha. "Sometimes more than you think is bearable."
"This time I lost everyone."
Melissa shook her head, not everyone, she disagreed as she peered over her shoulder. Standing in her son's doorway remained Isaac with folded arms and a guilty look, still wishing he'd come back sooner, or that he had never got back on that plane after senior scribe. Perhaps then there were things that he could have stopped somehow. Maybe they would all be in a better place. He was mad at himself, mad that he didn't stay for reasons other than Kinsey. He could have stayed for friendship, for loyalty for his pack, only he had been so blindsided by the pain of seeing a girl he loved with someone else that he had forgotten the other things Beacon Hills had given him.
Frankly, the two McCalls were surprised that he had returned with them rather than going with the girl who had brought him back here. They didn't have to ask the reasoning for his return, to anyone that answer was clear. Anyone who knew them knew what was there, arguably, the two McCalls knew it most, maybe even first. For the months that Isaac had lived in their home they'd heard the soft, loving laughter of the couple, sometimes in the middle of the night when Kinsey had snuck in, poorly, they might add. They saw how the two of them fought consistently for one another. How no distance or time could ever sever a connection like that.
Scott had once believed he had a similar connection to the girl, only platonically. She had been in his corner for as long as he could recall. They were the people each other leaned on in some of their hardest times. Tonight should have been one of those times. It could have been one of the times when they did that, only he hadn't been the Alpha he thought he was, nor the friend. Scott felt as though he could only blame himself when the girl hadn't stayed to see him through all the aftermath of dying, he had his assumptions why, incorrect ones, ones based on facts he thought he knew. He didn't know that she and Stiles were no longer together. He assumed she knew that he and Stiles had argued about Donovan. He assumed she knew that he had killed Donovan too.
