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*


26. Caged

(Season three Episode two)

            If the supernatural world didn't exist, my family would still be alive. So many more people would be alive. And fewer people would know the pain that comes from loss. The type of loss from the supernatural. There is no closure. There is no explanation. There is only emptiness.

            School the next day was less dramatic, with an exception of Ms. Blake. I can't stop wondering her role in this play she is putting on. I watch her every move. She knows how to be a teacher. It seems like that is all she is. But there is something else there to. I can see it through the mockingbird that stays by her shoulder. Caged. Ms. Blake is the mockingbird. She imitates sounds and mocks people. She mocks me, through the bars of the cage. I can't get in. But she can't get out.

            Why is she so afraid of me?

           She knows literature like the back of her hand. With our first book, she sells us the importance of double entendre. That there are so many interpretations for a simple thing. So we all read a passage and none of us can get the same thing from it. Can't help but feel like there is some irony in that statement.

           What am I?

"What did you think about those birds?" Stiles asks.

            My breath catches and I look down at my desk. I look up and see Ms. Blake's glare. Why am I always so easily controlled by other people? Is it that important I keep my secrets safe?

"Sorry, what?" I say.

" The birds. They broke in here as if they were sacrificing their life for something. Maybe they were afraid."

"I doubt it." I respond to him though my eyes were still glued to Ms. Blake.

"Are you even hearing me right now." He says waving a hand to my face.

"Yes," I turn to face him, "It couldn't have been a sacrifice. That's what chickens stand for And as harbingers, I would have noticed a darker meaning behind them.."

"Okay, so what do blackbirds symbolize from a harbinger's standpoint?"

"They are usually good omen's." I say, "So I doubt the birds were a sign of anything. I mean, maybe."

"No, I don't believe you. And you don't believe yourself either. There is something going on. And like it or not, it is probably going to be a bitch to us in the future."

"'Cause it hasn't already." I say stretching my back. The pain is killing me right now. And I left the meds in my locker.

"Sorry." he says, but I am the one who should be sorry. For so many things.

           The bell rings and everyone files out of the classroom. But who was called to stay behind for a few minutes. 
Me of course.

"We had never actually agreed on our deal." seriously, she tied my tongue the moment she made the threat.

"It's a deal." I start to walk away but she catches me by the arm.

"If you tell anyone, I won't make your life easy."

"Got it." I say walking to the door annoyed. I can't help but think of how vulnerable I am. If I didn't care about my secrets, if I was stronger... I like to believe I can get stronger. Not always be afraid.

"Oh, and Aileen." I turn back waiting for her to speak. What else could she possibly have to say, "It's a sin to kill a mockingbird."


           After school is over, I go to the veterinarians office for answers. Little did I know Derek, Stiles, Scott, and Issac were there too. They had come to do this odd method of refreshing one's memory, basically you need to drown a person in ice cold water to the point of almost dead. I wonder if that method would allow me to remember anything. I wonder what I could learn from that type of dive into my mind? Of course,Peter couldn't know about it.

           Come to think of it, it is interesting that I've now known about werewolves for so long now, and I am still learning things about them. They can take your memories. Or at least Deucalion can. Wait, Deucalion. That name. I was warned not to mess with that guy. Perhaps it's best if I stay away from this situation for a while. Just to be safe.

"Aileen, come help us formulate a plan to get Boyd, Erica, and person A out of the Alpha Packs hands." so much for staying out of the way. I walk over to the group. I give myself a mental slap in the face. What happened to saying no?


           As the others come up with a plan, my back begins to hurt and it becomes hard to breathe. I sit on the ground and try to listen to the others ideas best I can. Right now they want to travel to the place and break them out. I feel like they don't understand the idea of a plan.

"Aileen. Why are you sitting on the ground?" Peter asks making his way over to me.

"Long story."

"We'll see about that." I have an idea of what he is going to do, but with one lung and the air capacity of a bag of chips, there was no way I could avoid it.

"No! Peter, don't." Derek's voice calls out, but far to late.

             I can feel Peter's claws sink into my neck as they had done so many times before. Slipped right in like matching puzzle pieces. His mind crowds my thoughts. Searching around for the right memory. So many images flash through my mind at once before it finally gets to what was important.

"Get out." my mind screams.

            Peter listens, retracting his claws. I felt blood drip down my back and I cover my neck in pain. I forgot about the shift of my spine. Peter could have killed me. Had his claws hit the wrong spot.

           Derek pins Peter to the wall angered while Scott and Stiles come to my aid. Scott knows this pain. But Stiles doesn't. Stiles knows the pain of loss. Scott, as far as I've seen, does not. None of them know the pain I felt then. And I don't wish for them to.

"Don't you ever do that again. If you do, I swear to god I'll kill you again." Derek says, silently but forcefully.

"And if I'm lucky I'll come back to life, again." Peter retorts. Derek lets go of him and everyone moves back to the table to discuss the final things for the big plan. Operation save the betas. We all start to leave. Derek helps me up and we all walk out of the room and to the bank. It didn't take long for me to fall behind. Peter came up to me after he was sure everyone went ahead.

"So, it's Ms. Prissy pants. What do you want me to do to help you out... in your little situation."

"Nothing! If she finds out I told anyone, I won't need to worry about you spilling my secret."

"Then why did you tell me in the first place?" his question annoys me.

"I didn't tell you. You fished it out of me."

"Don't act like you didn't intentionally let that slip out of your head."

"I needed to tell someone, okay. I want her dead. You can do it, can't you?"

"Sure, so long as it protects you and your pet poltergeist," he says putting a hand to my cheek. I slap it away.

"I get Steven made a deal that saved your life, but why do you care so much."

"Sorry, but the answer to that question is between me and your pet only."


           At the bank, Stiles, Peter and I wait. I wish we could see what was happening on the inside of the bank, but we can't.

"That's odd." Peter says looking up.

"What is it?" Stiles says before I can.

"Oh, it's nothing, just an old familiar scent."

"Did you forget you had a nephew already?" Stiles says sarcastically as there is a beeping in my pocket.

"Shit." I say aloud.

"Is that a pager?" Peter asks one answer away from cracking up in laughter. Stiles as well.

"It's the closest thing I have to a phone right now." I reply feeling defensive. Peter starts laughing and muttering under his breath.

"What happened to your old one?" Stiles says, surprisingly less moved by my embarrassment.

"I don't know, Matt took it from me. Lord knows where it is now." I say.

"So that's why you haven't been answering anyone's calls or texts." Stiles says, more to himself than to me. He looks like he just got hit with an ah ha moment.

"Anyway... I need to get home, somethings going on."

"Do you even know where to go from here?" Stiles asks, "I don't think you've ever been in this part of the Hills."

"No, I've been here before. A long time ago, but I'm pretty sure I know my way around still." I reply quickly before leaving. Stiles' eyes followed mine. He had this weird look on his face. I said something I shouldn't have.


           I get home and I see Rita and John sitting in the kitchen with a prepared meal at the table. It's... different. I can't remember the last time we ate dinner as a family. I'm worried, something's up.

"Hurry up the food is getting cold." Johnathon says not bothering to look up from the table. Rita has her hands folded, waiting for us to say grace. I can only guess how long her hands have been folded like that. Her knuckles are white.

           I quickly take off my jacket and hanging it on the rack. I miss Will's sweatshirt. God knows where it is now. With the little boy still, in the trash, or with a homeless man.

"So what took you so long?" Johnathon asks.

            John's been cold to me ever since the accident. I feel like something happened. Something that made him so distant from me. I look at my food with no appetite. I haven't really eaten a good meal in forever. I wonder how much weight I've lost. This can't be good for my recovery.

"I had to walk." I say, "their car wasn't running."

"Who's car?" Johnathon asks. I stay silent not able to think of a lie. By now they are bound to know Teresa and I haven't hung out in a while, "I said who's car!"

"John." Rita intervenes. I beg my mind to come up with something. Nothing comes.

"I have homework to do." I say moving back from the table. I leave my aunt and uncle at the table and go up to my room. I enter the bathroom and turn on the faucet. The sound helps me calm down. I could hardly breathe, and not because of my lung. I feel overwhelmed. There is a knock at my door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me." Rita answers in a soft and sweet voice. I open the door and let her in.

"What's with John lately? Did I do something?"

"I don't know." she answers truthfully. There is a heaviness in her voice. She doesn't want to disappoint me. And she wants answers just as badly, "I'm sure he'll get over it, eventually. Everything will get better soon."

           I like to think that everything will be okay. But the truth is that it isn't okay. And it never will be.

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