Keeping Secrets

All Aileen ever wanted was to forget. You shouldn't need to be told; death doesn't make good memories. Moving to Beacon Hills has placed more stress on the mental locks that hold all of Aileen's secrets, and there's no telling what will come to the surface. Will she fall deeper into her hopeless pit or rise up with others like her?
*Teen Wolf Fanfiction*

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12. Limit

(Season one Episode twelve)

            As I follow the path, the darkness seems to close in around me. With each step I take it's like I'm making my way to what lies ahead... death. I shouldn't even think of that possibility, but it is far too close not to consider. I could feel the shadows running along side me and I try to hide a fear that is unknown. There is a ticking inside of my head that wants me run, as if time itself is running out. But time itself never ends.

           I'd never really seen the woods this dark. I've been here more nights than I can count, than I have ever been, but it has never been this dark. Seeing the moon and all of the clouds that seem so low I could catch them in a jar, it seems like the world is trying to express all of the drama that all of us are feeling through some weird form of pathetic fallacy. Even the crunch of the leaves I step on send a shiver up my spine. My breathing gets heavy as I journey farther into the woods. To make the journey easier I follow the emptiness that lead the steam when the rain would come. The path follows the harbingers for the most part, but there are still times when I need to leave the ravine in order to stay on the right path.

           I hear a rustling behind me a ways back and I try to keep the fear I have from falling out into the open. It's just an animal, I suppose. Forcing myself to believe this doesn't seem to work. The rustling always comes again and leaves getting closer with each breath I take. The longer I pause to see where the harbingers are leading me the faster the unknown catches up to me. The noise once again appears, but right behind me. I turn slightly quickly and whip myself in the eyes with my hair. Standing right behind me, through watery and pained eyes, I see a child.

           Upon glance my stomach pins itself up in pain and I scream out trying my hardest not to fall to the ground. There should be no reason for me to be feeling this pain unless the child is dying. Seeing the trail the harbingers left for me still there, the birds begging me to continue to follow them. I look back at the child my (eyes are finally recovering from the most embarrassing and stupid screw up I'd ever done in my life) and I look into his eyes, seeing the sadness and fear reflecting through them.

"Please, you have to help me." he says his gaze slowly moving to his hands which are holding his side. He moves his hands away and I can see the darkness of the blood from the wound drip off of his fingertips and onto the ground. The sight sickened me and I couldn't keep from throwing up considering my physical state. A few more drops of blood glide off of his fingertips before he places his hands back onto his side. The blood on the leaves look wrong and unlikely. A sacrifice that doesn't seem right. I can imagine and animal, bleeding out in the woods, but the fact that the blood belonged to a human was wrong. Looking closely, the harbingers showed me what happened. I touch the blood and I see a playback of the incident...

           Poor boy, running through the woods, lost, looking... searching for his brother who foolishly left him as some sort of humor; such a selfish little one wasn't he. Poor boy, alone, in the darkness, hearing the evils of the world whisper in his ear, tempting him. Asking. Poor boy, knowing from his family monsters aren't real, but still believing in them, seeing them in the barks of trees. None of this is real poor boy, go to sleep and you'll wake up at home. Poor boy; shuts his eyes, covers his ears, sings himself a lullaby. He tries, the poor boy to block out what nature was trying to tell him. You are going to die boy. Poor boy. Run boy! Run! The gushing of the wind and the yelling of the creatures are warning you. Poor boy starts to run, but all to late; the beast runs past him and slows just long enough to steal a part of the boy. Poor boy, there is nothing left to do. For there is nothing left.

"Peter." I look behind me and realize the track were leading me to him. The boy falls to the ground in pain and weakness and I can hear him start to worry. Please boy, no tears, I won't be able to calm you. He starts to whine and I fall to the ground next to him. I pull up some leaves around him to keep him warm and I hold his hands steady on his wound. His face is pale and he shivers, he must be so cold. He must be so so cold. No way I could understand what was happening to him, what he was feeling. The pain in my stomach worsens.

"Am I dying." he whispers, voice lost in the wind. I could only just hear him. The thought of him saying this and the fact that he considered it made me tear up. It isn't a question really. He knows he is going to die.

"What, no way. This... this is just a small scratch nothing a bandage won't fix." if I can't keep myself from falling to pieces there is no way I can make this kid believe anything I just said. Not that anyone really needs to know, but my breath smells terrible from throwing up earlier.

"I like calla lilies."

"What?" I question him. Bringing up flowers seems odd. And that flower no less.

"I would want calla lilies as a flower at a funeral." My heart jolted at the words. He didn't want to die. Didn't even want to mention it, but it was still there. The damn elephant in the room.

"I already told you-"

"I'm seven years old, I'm not a baby. I know." What am I supposed to say to that. There was no way to get him to a doctor from where we were and we both knew there was no way out. Looking at the wound again it seems familiar. I'd seen someone do the same thing. Scott. I pull up my shirt and examine the warning sign on my side. Same scratch mark. And, as if finally understanding it served its purpose the mark disappears and I look back to the boy who trying so hard just to take a deep breath in. His eyes start to drift, and for a second I'm tempted to leave him where he was. Looked peaceful. It did. He did. I snap out of it and start tapping him on the cheek trying to get his eyes to lock onto mine again. Why am I trying to save a corpse?

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. I need to get you out of the woods, but you need to stay awake." He looked back into my eyes, but he seemed to stare straight past them. They looks like some kind of... hmm?

"I don't want to leave." He says the moment I try to pick him up, "I love it here, don't make me go. Please... I'm scared." His hands no longer bothered to hold his wound anymore and my hands seemed to be the only thing keeping his organs inside of him. I wish I had my phone. Where was it anyway? What kind of idiot would go to a dance and leave their phone at home? I'm that idiot.

            I look the boy in the eye and see the life being drained from him. How on earth was I supposed to carry him anyway? I couldn't very well hold his insides together while I carried him all the way back through the woods to a road. And from there? How long would it be until someone came to help? Who am I kidding, no one would come here. I could have to carry him. But. The truth is I am not that strong. Steven could possess the child, but it isn't likely that he'd still be alive by the time we  get him the attention he needs. Steven probably isn't even strong enough to possess even a small boy. Maybe if it was a distant time in the future. This life was hopeless. A child... hopeless, that sounds so wrong.

"It's okay, we are going to stay." I say not knowing how to comfort him. Giving it by best shot but still butchering it. His breathing steadies, but only for a moment before his eyes widen in fear and he starts taking in short jagged breaths yet again.

"My heart!" he cries pulling both of his hand to his chest, "I can't feel my heart beat. I can't feel my heart beat." The words cause a lump to form in my throat and my hands start to shake. I let go of his wound, the blood dripping off of my hands. Blood that will soon be that of a dead child. His words pulse throughout my body, it's own heartbeat. It's as if the boy shot his life into me. Ba boom. Ba boom. Ba boom.

"Go to sleep your going to go home soon." I whisper closing his eyes. His breathing still short, scared, but calming. I could feel his body slowly drifting into a state of peace, a cool place. His breathing becomes soft and deeper, filling in his lungs as if knowing these were the last moments. He tries to hold onto that last feeling of life before letting go of his final breath. Final second.

           Poor boy.

           His face glows white with innocence. His thoughts still running through his mind before the brain shuts itself down for good. I would hope that he is thinking of all of the good things in his life despite how short. Poor child; he'll never know if he would have experienced anything happier in his life than he had. He'll never know the woman he left behind or the awards he won through life. He'll never look in the mirror and  see what he would have looked life. Poor kid. He'll never see a spiting image of himself looking back at him and fear leaving his own boy behind. Reality told this poor soul he wouldn't see those days. He would have to give them up and leave his childhood for something better. If what comes after is better. Because fate had decided that for him.

           Poor man.

           I walk away from him and follow the path the harbingers wanted me to follow. What selfish creatures. Can't even warn me of a child's death. A child's sacrifice. For what purpose does his death serve. Who's life is more important to them? Peter's why is he so important to them. Is my role just to bare witness to the horrors of life, time and them. Those bastards who call themselves superior to the human race. I don't think I can do that. I love Scott, but I can't stand and watch as he destroys himself and others.

            A hand grabs me from behind and pulls me, far to quickly, in the direction of the Hale house. The grip on me feels suffocating, I try to get my feet to catch up with the speed of my captor, but I just continue to fall behind and get dragged around. Nearing though; everything seems to slow down. I can see the fight happening. Allison, Kate and Scott and Derek. Chris. The happenings were war. Civil  war at that. The view however, slips out of view as I get pulled into the house.

"I've been looking for you." Peter finally releases me and I get up. I could hardly stay in the room with him. Couldn't look him in the eye. He murdered that child. Bet he didn't even know.

"What, did you know I would just end up here."

"At the rate you were walking, definitely not. But, yes when I told you to follow the trail of death, I knew it would lead you here." Sick disgusting piece of dirt. He wants this; war. I wish death upon him, but even that would be too little of a punishment for him. He is a terrible person, if even a person at all. But I am worse, I am in debt to him.

"What did I miss?" I ask not really interested. I just wanted to get out of here. Not the woods, this world.

"Nothing, yet." he says, as a sick ring in his voice expresses itself. Maybe if I threw up on him the ego on the guy would fall, "I was going to wait, but I can't wait to play with them." This is a game to him. I bend over convinced I was going to barf.

            Recovering I walk to the door.

"Have fun with that." I just get to the door before Peter's hand grabs my arm in anger. I can feel his grip tighten as he speaks.

"Where do you think you're going?" His claws start to brake skin.

"Leaving," I pull my arm from him ripping my skin and causing blood to run down warm and dark. I watch as the five warriors continue to fight, hardly noticing my presence. I sit on the porch and wait for the battle to progress. They all still fight the wrong people. The second Peter comes out to play will be the best thing to happen to this group. A darkness inside of me wants to see what this war will leave behind. It's not that their deaths don't matter, but their fight will be the factor that decides if Peter dies tonight.

           And Peter will die tonight.

"What are you doing?" Steven says finally choosing to talk again.

"Watching."

"I didn't think you liked the horror movies."

"The true horror here is that these people don't know what happens to the rest of the world when they take up these fights." I say.

***

"It's over." Steven says, while I look at Peters burned body on the ground. I tried to hide the smile on my face, but I was free of him. The cruel and cold man burned. Suffered, and died. A temporary relief. A bit of closure for this moment. There are no longer any debts to pay.

            I get up and Steven vanishes, but not completely. He is stronger now. Because our anniversary is coming. And that will only lead to bad things. Another sick knot forms in my stomach, far too many already tonight. But this seems much harder to deal with.

            I walk away, lucky. I am not one of the bodies today. There will still be tomorrow for me. I should be happy. I smile. I will be happy.

"Hey!" Stiles yells, blocking my path,  "Don't think you will be leaving here, you don't deserve freedom of punishment."

"Let her go Stiles." Scott calls. The words giving me the strength to push past Stiles and his confused expression. The movement leaves a stain on his shirt. Blood. He touches it in question before looking back at Scott now more curious and confused than angered. This moment. This very event will be stained into our minds. There is no forgetting.

            I talk myself through each step I take and find my way home. Home.

           Rita and John sit in the kitchen, one on the laptop, the other reading the newspaper. They wave at me once I enter, and I reply similarly, not daring to question where they went. The second I question it, they might leave, again. I can't have that. I clean all of the blood off of me. I grab William's sweatshirt, lay down on my bed, and sigh. All of what happened torturing my mind. I start to whine and cover my ears. But I can't get it out of my head.

           I am done with this world.

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Hey, forgiveandforget here i dont know why my nam is  theat but as you can tell im oh so famois  followonn polyvore and follow bkack rose on movellas because she is an great autthor

 

Hey, this is BlackRose, I have finally finished the first part of this movellas. I am so happy to finally get this chapter published. I usually don't like putting authors notes at the end of a chapter, but I feel that I need to encourage some peeps to favorite, like and comment on this movella. Not only will this movella continue, with more chapters coming soon; but there will be another movella I am writing currently and will be posting. See you soon, enjoy your reading.

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