I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF. Only Melanie and her plot lines.
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"We have to move." Scott frowned with urgency, "It could be right outside."
"It is right outside." I clarified.
My hands were then brought towards my pale jeans. Palms hesitantly grazing my clothing, attempting to extract any glass particles that may have landed upon impact. Merely not wanting to get a large shard of window punctured throughout my stomach.
"I'm going to check to see if it's out there." Scott stated breathlessly, carefully clambering to his feet as well as hesitantly peeking out the window.
Stiles and I mocked his actions, poking our heads out from underneath the numerous pieces of glass. My fingertips grasping onto the wall, careful to avoid any sharp objects, as well as blood thirsty creatures. And thankfully, there was nothing.
Scott turned his head to us, eyebrow springing upward, "Move now?"
"Move now." I nodded, a warm breath of hot air breathlessly falling from my lips.
With reluctancy, I arose. My feet pattering against the ground alongside Scott and Stiles. Easily making our way out of the disheveled classroom, and into the eerie hallway. Where the only source of light was the luminous moon showing itself proudly.
Stiles waisted no time before grasping onto Scott's forearm, as well as my hand. My anxiety level lowering in the slightest as we were stopped abruptly.
"We need to go somewhere with no windows." Exasperated Stiles.
I shifted my body to face him, letting out a longing sigh, "Stiles, were at school. Every freaking place in this building has windows."
Stiles then restated his question, his tongue gliding about his bottom lip, "Well, somewhere with less windows."
"The locker room." Scott exhaled, glancing at Stiles and I.
I nodded in absolute agreement, the three of us darting quickly towards the male locker rooms. Stiles and I not parting hands, for there wasn't an exact reason, we simply didn't. And, I had no issues with that whatsoever.
We would occasionally whip our heads around, making sure that there wasn't anything lurking behind a corner. But, thankfully we were met with the distasteful darkness. I felt as if we were playing a giant game of tag, but once you were it, you were eliminated from the murderous brawl.
As we clumsily fell into the locker room, Scott hesitantly spoke up. His fingertips lazily tugging onto the brown locks attached to his head, "Stiles, call your dad."
"And tell him what?" Remarked the pale boy, flailing his free hand.
"Anything, a gas leak, a fire, whatever." Scott paused, "Because when that...thing sees a parking lot filled with cop cars it'll take off."
"Yeah, but what if it doesn't. What if it goes all terminator and eats every cop in sight? Including my dad."
"They have guns?" Scott tried, shrugging his shoulders.
I rolled my eyes, "And Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane laced bullet to even slow him down."
"Then we have to, we have to." His voice trailed off momentarily, "then we have to just run for it."
"There's nothing that we could run to Scott." I frowned with disappointment, "not for a few miles."
"Then we take Derek's car."
I pursed my lips, "I guess that could work?"
"Yeah–we take the keys off of Derek's body and take his car." Stiles smiled weakly. Me grimacing at the thought of taking another look of a gruesome dead human. Or I guess in this particular case, werewolf.
Scott shook his head vigorously, "And him."
"Yeah, whatever." Stiles huffed, placing his hand on the door knob, preparing to open it. But, Scott wrapped his hand around his wrist, stopping him.
"What now?"
"I think I heard something." Scott dead panned, glancing at the three of us with immense anxiety.
"What." My eyes widened, "really?"
Scott's gaze then shifted around the locker room, the pounding of his heart practically echoing off the cemented walls, as did mine, "Yeah, hide."
Stiles backed away from the door, glancing at me nervously. Scott was already wedging himself inside a locker, Stiles now mocking the intelligent action.
I then attempted to mimic their attempts, yanking on the lockers fearsomely.
"Guys." I whisper shouted, "all the other ones are locked."
I let out a pathetic whimper, teeth clambering onto my lower lip. I continued to pull on the small handles, none of them budging even the slightest bit.
But, before I could begin saying my last words, I was yanked inside a locker with someone. Their broad chest slammed against mine all while I let my eyes fall closed briefly.
"Scott." I exhaled, "Thank god."
"Is she okay?" I heard someone whisper from the locker beside us. Their voice muffled due to the awfully crammed space.
"I'm fine." I replied, letting out a well yearned for sigh of relief.
"Guys, you need to seriously shut up." Said Scott. His lips pursed with immense annoyance all while struggled to keep his voice to a low whisper.
After a moment of being held dangerously close to Scott, silence, and shoved in a small space. I had realized that I never, ever wanted to be this close to one of my best friends ever again. Yes, Scott and I are very close, but absolutely not this close. Frankly, I wouldn't mind being this close to Stiles, but it definitely was not the time for discussing that particular topic.
Scott and I's gaze shifted to the small slits of the grey locker. The door knob shifting slightly as it was soon swung open. My breath hitched, Scott's doing the same as a silhouette of a dark figure loomed across the eerie scenery.
You could hear someone's breathing, or for our matter, something's breathing. And it was beyond terrifying. I feel as if I am always explaining that I am terrified, or some term that defines afraid. But I'm explaining to you right now, that I have every right to use that word. Hundreds upon hundreds of times. Because that word is very true. Fast heart beat, heavy breathing, adrenalin pumping, terrified.
Footsteps rang throughout the cemented ground, coming scarcely close to the locker Scott and I miraculously fit into.
Look, I like Stiles. A lot. I really do. But, I did feel a tad bit safer having a werewolf as a defense.
And then, the locker door was swung open. Scott and I tumbling out dramatically onto the floor. Stiles, whom had heard the fretfully loud commotion, doing the same as well.
A manly (well, sort of manly) scream rang throughout the petite locker room. My eyes darted up, settling on the janitor who looked beyond afraid.
"Shh, shh." Stiles attempted to hush him, bringing a finger to his lips. "Quiet."
My attention turned to the side momentarily, as the janitor carried on as to what we were doing here, I could have sworn I had spotted something.
And there it was again. A dark shadow lurking behind the lockers. We had to get out of here. Right. Now. Everyone did.
The janitor must have heard my thoughts, for he was pushing the three of us out the metal door.
"Wait." I put my hand out, attempting to keep the door open. I had to explain to the janitor that he had to get out of there. There was something in there with him. And whatever it was, I was positive it wasn't friendly.
I was too late. The door abruptly slamming shut, blood smearing all about the small window in which was accompanying the front. The mans cries for help screeching throughout my ears. The protests so loud and prominent, that I struggled not to block out the sound with my palms.
I didn't scream. My voice was caught in my throat. For I just mumbled out an incredibly pitiful, "No."
Stiles pulled me into his broad chest, a few lonesome tears trickling down my rosy cheeks. I could have stopped him, I could have saved his life. My thoughts now drifting to the fact that I was a horrendous person.
So much death. That's all there seemed to be. I had seen three dead people this week, and to be completely honest, I was about to explode from all the guilt, fear, and worry bottling up inside me. First the worker at the video store, then Derek, now the janitor.
If I would have just turned around for a second, I could have warned Derek. If I would have just been a tiny bit quicker at the movie store, he maybe could have been saved. If I would have warned that janitor, he would be alive.
I thought I was okay. I thought I was handling it quite well. But, now I realized that it was all just wallowing inside. The awful thoughts merely exploding, rampaging about my veins.
"I could have saved him." I cried out, "I saw that thing in there, I could have saved his life."
"Mel, you couldn't have done anything." Stated Stiles, shaking his head with reassurance. It simply doing no good.
"No." I shook my head, "No. I could have stopped that."
I lunged towards the door, attempting to pry it loose but it wouldn't budge.
"C'mon!" I yelled with urgency, my hoarse voice echoing throughout the bland hallway. Scott and Stiles both probably giving one another a confused as well as worried look, probably coming to the conclusion that I had completely lost my mind. "Open the door."
"Melanie." Scott stated as Stiles latched onto my hand. "We have to go."
I shook my head, swallowing the lump in which had formed throughout my narrow throat. My voice coming out as barley a whisper, "We have to save him."
"He's already gone." Scott retorted, his voice cracking in the slightest, "We have to go. Now."
Without any further hesitation, Stiles pulled me alongside them. I felt as if I were trapped inside one of my insidious dreams. The only sinister exception being that it was fretfully real. And there was no escape.
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