𖦹 ────────── ꗃ prologue.
❛ some idiot with a jeep. ❜
( ©-LOSTGARDENS, 2024 )

Stupid was what it was. It was so stupid that people didn't know how to put books back in their designated places. It was a public library, for God's sake, not their personal bookshelves; they should have the decency to think of others—other readers and the workers that have to rearrange the books at the end of the day.

Dior carried ten books—three of those being from her own pickings, the others being ones people had discarded and she came across. She weaved her way through the bookshelves, trying to find the proper places for them, muttering frustrations under her breath. It drove her crazy. It wasn't that hard to grab a book, read it or use it, and then put it back where you found it. Why couldn't people seem to comprehend that?

Sighing, the girl put away the books that weren't the ones she wasn't checking out and began making her way over to the librarian's desk. It was then that she realized she was only carrying three books for herself. But she needed four. She had to have four. Her mind was telling her that as she stopped in her tracks, looking down at the spines of the books she held.

She had to have four.

Quickly, she turned around and rushed back over to one of the shelves. She scanned it urgently, trying to find something that piqued her interest, and when she did, she wasted no time in grabbing it. A weight felt like it had been lifted off her chest as she turned around and went back to the front desk and softly smiled at the librarian in front of her.

She wondered why she worked there; it wasn't as if the library was a big hit around town. Most were too interested in sports, specifically lacrosse, and were too busy to read. Or they just didn't want to waste their spare time by putting their face in a book. Dior wondered if it got lonely in there, only having other loners around. Maybe that was why she liked it.

The thoughts left her mind as she set the books down in front of her in a neat stack, letting the librarian, who she knew was named Ruby based on her name tag, scan them one by one. She knew Dior's routine, and yet she still placed the books in a messy stack once she was done. It was fine, however. Dior simply pulled her sleeves down over her hands, not wanting to touch her skin to the books immediately after someone else did, and straightened them out before grabbing them and holding them close to her chest.

Ruby watched this just as she always did, then hers and Dior's eyes met, and she sent the girl a kind smile, which was returned.

With that, Dior walked out of the library.

Usually she would walk around town for a bit, enjoying the fresh air, or she would go home. Either worked for her, but that day, she had made plans with Kai, one of her best and only friends, to hang out at the girl's house.

It was safe to say that the only reason Dior was going over there and Kai wasn't coming to her house or they weren't meeting somewhere else was because Kai's grandmother, Amatheia, wasn't there. She hated Amatheia. Most that knew the woman did. She was a nightmare, the typical man-eating siren that Folklore spoke of.

Dior didn't drive, preferring to walk, so she did just that as she made it to the crosswalk. She stood on the sidewalk, looking in both directions twice to make sure no cars were coming before she walked forward, counting her steps and wanting to take a shortcut through the woods to Kai's house.

But as she was halfway across the road, a Jeep came barreling around the corner. It was like a sudden flash as Dior looked up and froze in place, only seeing headlights in front of her. She was a werewolf, yes, but her instincts were always a split second short. But eventually, what was about to happen hit her mind, and she jumped out of the way before the Jeep could flatten her on the road.

The sound of brakes screeching hurt her ears as she sat up on the ground. And it wasn't a second later when a boy was jumping out from the driver's side and coming over to her in tripping steps. She looked up at him, wincing at the feeling of her burning and scraped palms. The boy looked familiar with his buzzcut and wide-eyed look, and he seemed to be around her age, but she couldn't quite place him. She didn't pay much attention to her classmates as it was.

His brown eyes looked over her, full of panic and worry. His breathing was heavy, and he looked on the verge of a panic attack. She just watched him with raised brows and a blank expression. "Are you okay?" he asked quickly, reaching out like he was going to touch her arm but he didn't. "Oh my God, are you okay?" He heaved in a breath like she was bleeding out on the side of the road. Well, she was bleeding, or had been—she could already feel her scraps healing. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you. Oh my God." He put his hands on his head and ran them over his scalp like he was trying to push back his hair, but with how short it was, he wasn't doing much. "My dad's going to kill me."

"I'm fine," Dior muttered, her heart still slightly racing. "You didn't hit me." She needed to get away from him before he realized that her cuts were no longer there, just spots of lingering blood. She brushed her palms on her jeans, seeing that they were ripped at the knee and she'd need to throw them out anyway, and then grabbed her books from the ground beside, which she had dropped when jumping out of the way of the Jeep. They had a bit of dirt on them, so she began wiping them with her sleeve, counting how many times in mutters under her breath.

The boy just watched her, noticing this.

Once the books were clean to her liking and she had wiped them twenty times each, she stood up from the ground, trying her best to go back to the task she had been doing before being interrupted. But that was when his eyes cast down, finding her knee, which was close to eye-level with him. "Your knee is bleeding," he told her, pointing at it.

She looked down as well, noticing that there was blood where her jeans had been ripped, but she knew she wasn't cut any longer. Movement made her fully aware of him coming closer to inspect it, so she quickly backed away, not needing added pressure to explain how she had miraculously healed. "It's fine," she told him.

"But—" He stood up as she backed away from him, clutching the neat-again stack of books to her chest. He threw his thumb over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on her with furrowed brows. He was still clearly concerned. "I have a first-aid kit in my Jeep, I think. I could at least give you a bandage or something." His amusement came out in a breath.

"No, really, I'm fine," she repeated, continuing to back away and more towards the woods as she kept her eyes on him. "I was just going to my friend's house anyway," she admitted, stepping off the road and into the grass behind her. Her eyes remained on him for a second longer, seeing him open his mouth to speak, but she really needed to go, so she turned around before another word could escape.

A thought crossed her mind, however, just before she could walk away.

She glanced over her shoulder, seeing him walking back to his Jeep. "Watch the road next time you're driving to make sure no innocent bystanders are walking across the street," she said loud enough for him to hear.

He faced her again with a confused look, probably not expecting to hear anything else from her once she had turned away. Then he smiled until he saw that she wasn't joking with him and that she was, in fact, very serious. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head while one hand rested on his hip. "Will do," he replied with a nod, pressing his lips together awkwardly.

After that, she walked into the woods, weaving her way through the trees as she quickly made her way to Kai's house as she counted each and every step she took. She wanted a decent amount of time to spend with her friend before she had to go home for dinner and her routine full-moon activities (being chained to the wall in her basement so she couldn't lose control and attack everyone due to the full moon's effects).

It didn't take her too long, luckily, to get to the familiar house. When she arrived, she stepped onto the front porch, wiped her shoes on the mat, and entered, knowing that Kai didn't mind when she did this. She immediately made her way back to her friend's room, wiping her feet on the wood floor before she grabbed the handle and opened the door.

Her and Kai's eyes met right as she entered. Her friend was lying on her bed, playing some kind of game on her phone. Dior was sure she looked like a mess, though she fought hard not to think about how dirty she and her clothes must be.

Kai seemed to realize this as she took her in, studying her. "What happened to you?" the brunette asked, setting her phone beside her before she moved to the end of the bed and closer to Dior.

Dior just went over to Kai's desk and set her books and bag down neatly, feeling the girl's eyes on her. Now that she wasn't walking, distracting herself by counting her steps, all of her thoughts came flooding into her mind, causing her to feel heavy. She slowly turned to Kai, keeping her eyes on the ground as she went over to the bed and sat down beside her. "Some idiot almost hit me on my way here," she confessed, letting out a deep breath. She needed to calm down and process it.

Who was that boy? His scent had been familiar, and yet she still couldn't place him.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Kai gasped and moved closer to her, reminding Dior of the buzzcut boy with her worried tone. "Who was it?"

"I'm fine, I think," Dior muttered, not really sounding sure of that fact herself. Her eyes still didn't meet Kai's, now focused on the rip in her jeans as her hand moved to touch the skin that was peeking out from it. The blood was still drying, but the cut that was once there was gone. She guessed that was a perk of being a werewolf—never having to deal with wounds for that long, depending on what and how severe it was. Her shaky finger trailed along the red-covered skin. "I—uh, it was some guy in a blue Jeep." She paused, thinking back to the moment. "A powder blue Jeep," she added, her mind screaming specifics at her. "I don't know who exactly he is, though."

"A powder blue Jeep?" Kai repeated questioningly, though she didn't sound that surprised.

Dior nodded, still rubbing her knee.

"Yeah, that was most likely this guy named Stiles," Kai told her, and Dior quickly realized who she was talking about and who the boy was. What kind of name is Stiles? She'd always thought whenever his name was called in class. "We go to school with him; he's the sheriff's son," she added, though Dior had already realized that.

For a moment, they both went silent. Dior continued to stare at her knee, and she was certain that Kai noticed this and was staring as well. She just kept picking and picking at the flaking and drying blood coating her skin. Then the bed shifted beside her as Kai got up from it. Her friend went to her en suite bathroom, and Dior heard her rumbling around in the cabinets and then the sink running.

A second later, Kai came out and returned to the room, one of her hands covered in a glove as it held a wet washcloth, since she couldn't get her skin wet unless she wanted to show off her tail. Dior kept her focus on her knee but finally found Kai's gaze as her friend squatted down in front of her and removed her hand from her knee. Dior's hazel eyes flickered over her face, and she got a small smile in response before Kai was running the cloth over her bloody knee, seeming to get every last bit of blood off.

"Thank you," Dior mumbled softly.

"What are friends for?" Kai replied, glancing up with the same smile as before.

Dior watched as Kai cleaned her knee, getting all of the blood and dirt off of it. And then Kai took the rag back to the bathroom, most likely to set it in the sink and dispose of her glove carefully.

When she returned to the room, the two of them began hanging out, catching up on everything that they had missed. Since Dior didn't have much to say since her days were usually the same, Kai did the majority of the talking. But the company of each other alone was good enough for both of them, especially Dior. The only people she saw frequently when out of school were her parents, and they were always breathing down her neck and watching her every move. She knew they did it out of love, but sometimes she felt like she was suffocating because of it.

After a bit, Dior realized that she needed to get home before the moon was out, which she reminded Kai of. She grabbed her bag and books off of the desk, and the two of them walked to the front door. Kai opened the door for her, and Dior stepped onto the front porch. She smiled and said, "See you later, Kai."

"See you later, Dior." Kai returned the smile, her hand holding open the door. "Get home safely."

"I will."

And with that, Dior stepped off the porch and onto the leaf-covered ground. She began her journey home, counting her steps as she went. She didn't live too far away, luckily, so she cut through the woods like she had when going to Kai's house. The darkness was creeping in at a fast pace, almost faster than normal, Dior thought, but eventually she made it home before it got too far in the night—the sun still up barely.

She stepped onto the porch, digging in her bag for her house key. She unlocked the door and wiped her feet on the mat before entering. When she stepped inside, she closed the door behind her and looked around the house. "Mom, I'm home," she called out, hoping she was loud enough for her parents to hear. She wasn't really that loud, however, due to her hatred for loudness. She needed to hear her mother's voice to reassure her that she wasn't alone.

She hated being alone.

Her mother rounded the corner instead of replying and gave her a soft smile. Then she noticed the dirtiness and blood coating Dior's jeans and shirt, and her smile dimmed as her brows furrowed. Not wanting to upset her daughter with the reminder of whatever happened (she had learned from years of bad moments), she mustered the smile again. "Go freshen up, honey," she told her kindly. "Dinner's almost ready." She paused, shifting on her feet at Dior's anxious expression. "Remember that it's a full moon tonight."

How could she forget?

Dior simply nodded before going past her mom and upstairs to her room. Before she entered, she wiped her feet, of course, and then she opened her door. Immediately, she hung her bag on the hook next to her door and then made her way over to her desk, where she neatly placed her books, just as she did every time she returned from the library. She then made her way out of the room, going to the bathroom down the hall, wiping her feet at the doorway before entering, and opening the door. She flicked on the light and took a quick shower. Then she, wrapped in a soft towel, went back to her room, wiping her feet at the door, entered, and got dressed.

Luckily, just as she had finished getting dressed, she heard a knock on her door, and she knew it was her mom. Dior walked over to the door and opened it, coming face to face with the woman everyone told her she looked so much alike, just as she had suspected. There was a soft smile on her face as she took in her daughter, all fresh and clean. "Dinner's ready, sweetie."

"Okay," Dior replied, and then she followed her mom downstairs, not before closing her bedroom door behind her. Before they stepped into the dining room, where her father already sat at the table, Dior wiped her feet on the floor as her mom went over to the table. She then followed, finding her seat across her mom and diagonally to the right of her dad, where he sat at the head of the table.

Dior began filling her plate just as her parents did, and before she could eat her food, doing what she always did, she counted each piece of what she had. Twenty green beans, one pork chop, one piece of corn on the cob, and ten pieces of roasted potato. She began eating after that, setting her knife down neatly and perfectly straight whenever she wasn't using it.

Dinner was silent, mostly, none of them being big chatters. Out the window, Dior could see the sky getting darker and darker as the sun went further down and the moon began to rise. She tried her best to ignore it, but it was right there, taunting her. She did well enough to hurry along as she ate, knowing her parents were too.

But finally, they finished and stood up from the table. Her mother didn't clear the empty plates and leftover food from the table like she usually would, and that slightly ticked something in Dior, knowing the mess would remain, but she was already feeling the effects of the full moon, so she didn't pay much attention to it, unlike she probably would on any other night. She was quickly rushed down to the basement of their home, but they'd been running a bit behind. Dior could feel her claws starting to grow and her fangs coming in as they ushered her down the stairs.

Once in the basement, her parents rushed with the chains, aware that they had waited too long since Dior was beginning to transform. Unlike them, she hadn't mastered the ability to control herself on the full moon, even with being born a werewolf. She cursed herself every day for it, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had no one to anchor herself to, not even her parents, so no one to talk her down when she started losing control. It drove her crazy. She just couldn't figure it out. It was so easy for her parents and all of the other werewolves, so why not for her?

Her anger began to rise. She couldn't control it. The thought of how she was a failure—she couldn't contain herself like everyone else could—came rushing to her mind as her mother grabbed her wrist, trying to secure the cuff around it. Dior's eyes were glowing a golden yellow, her fangs fully out, and her claws ready. And as her mom pulled on the cuff, which was connected to a chain on the wall, she realized that it was loose.

"James, fix that," she told him urgently, pointing to the chain. "Hurry!"

Her father rushed to the chain, but Dior had had enough. She couldn't be there anymore. She couldn't be chained up again all night until morning came. She was tired of it. Her breathing began to grow heavy with the panic and anger she was feeling. She didn't know why she was so angry. It wasn't something she could help.

Turning to her mother, she pushed the woman away from her with force. She fell down, the back of her head hitting the wall as Dior's father looked up at the commotion. Dior didn't waste another second to rush towards the staircase. She couldn't let them chain her up again. She couldn't do it. She couldn't be in that basement on its floor and chained to a wall with nowhere to go.

She couldn't!

She wouldn't.

"Dior!" her father shouted after her.

She didn't even take a glance back as she ran up the stairs. She wasn't thinking clearly, but she knew she needed to get out of there. Out of that basement, out of the house. Just out! She ran as fast as she could, going straight for the front door with nothing on but her pajamas. No shoes, no jacket, nothing. Her hair was still damp from her shower, but the coldness didn't get to her as she swung the door open and ran down the steps of the front porch.

Her eyes dimmed back to their natural hazel, but her fangs and claws were still out for anyone to see. And, in a moment of sense, Dior knew she couldn't let anyone see her like this, so she ran towards the woods, not turning back, even when she heard her father calling after her. It wasn't just that she wanted to be hidden from the town of Beacon Hills; it was as if the woods were drawing her towards them.

Something was drawing her towards it, at least.

Her bare feet crunched the leaves beneath her as she ran as fast as she possibly could. She knew her parents would be coming after her and would drag her back to the house and chain her up. She didn't want that. She couldn't let that happen. Not again. She was tired of it.

It was about when she was halfway through the woods that a familiar scent hit her nose. She couldn't quite place who it was, but she certainly knew it from somewhere. She began heading in the direction, following the scent as she looked for whatever it was. Or who it was.

She followed the scent as best she could throughout the woods that lingered with dozens and dozens of different smells, until she came across two boys.

Hiding behind a tree, she peeked out to watch them as they talked to one another. She tried to focus in on what they were saying, but with her heavy breathing and all of the different sounds she was picking up throughout the woods, she couldn't get a clear listen. And, after a moment, she recognized who one of the boys was—Stiles Stilinski, the sheriff's son and the boy who had almost hit her with his Jeep earlier in the day. The boy whose scent she had picked up.

His buzzcut was a dead giveaway.

If Stiles was there, that meant that Scott McCall must've been the other one. From the little she knew about them, from the little she paid attention to them, they were always running around together—always had been. She watched them for a moment longer, some kind of curiosity lingering in her mind, specifically about the boy she had met by chance and near death earlier. She couldn't quite place what it was about him that had her so interested, even in her busy mind.

She watched him intently, almost daring to move closer. But then her hearing picked up on something else, something specific, unlike she was able to do before. Her head turned to the side as she tried to listen better, taking her focus off of Stiles and Scott.

There was the sound of crunching leaves as someone walked rather rapidly. Maybe it was even running. Heavy breathing, but not hers as the steps slowed down. And then, "We're mermaids?" The voice sounded bewildered. "No, you two are insane!" was said in a shouting whisper. "There's no such thing as mermaids." A moment of silence followed by a ragged sigh. "Then explain the tails, gills, webbed fingers, sharp teeth, and scales, Bella. How do you explain that? I don't know, insanity? Head trauma? You did just fall down a hole and almost drown in some weird pool thing."

There was only one voice, so this person was clearly talking to themself.

Dior's brows furrowed as she creeped away from the tree, but not going in the direction of the two boys, but now in the direction of this new voice. This person—Bella, they had called themself—was speaking about mermaids. Had they seen Kai and Ris? Had they discovered their secret pool? Why had they let them go so freely if they knew about them? They could tell. They probably would tell. Have them labeled as the town's freak cases. Dior couldn't let that happen; they were her friends. Their secret had been trusted with her, as hers had with them. She couldn't let this Bella go running around and telling everyone about it.

Dior's anger began rising again, her determination right there with it, as she rushed towards the sound of this voice and the footsteps. She had to stop this person from telling everyone their secret. She had to!

It didn't take her long before she found the girl, far away from where she had once been. She slowed her movements down as she approached, her anger and focus solely on the blonde, who was drenched in water and shivering in front of her. She didn't even know Dior was there, too busy mumbling to herself as she wrapped her arms around her body to keep warm, about how insane what she had just gone through was and that Kai and Ris—presumably—were just as insane, if not more.

Dior just watched her closely, waiting for the right moment.

Then, slowly, like a predator after its prey, she creeped towards the unsuspecting girl, coming up to her from behind. And that was when she pounced. She couldn't let her get away and ruin Kai and Ris's lives. She couldn't.

The girl screamed as she and Dior fell to the ground. Dior flipped her over so that Bella was on her back and looking up at her, her eyes wide. Dior's eyes glowed their golden yellow, which made the girl beneath her look even more scared as she began squirming underneath her.

Another scream rang loud as Bella tried to fight, but Dior's strength was no match for her. Dior was out of control as she began clawing at the girl she was straddling. Blood sprayed everywhere as she continued on and on, the attack vicious. Bella whimpered, cried, and screamed, holding up her arms to block Dior from clawing her face. Dior's ears rang as she continued, her anger so high and her breathing so heavy. She couldn't let this girl ruin her friends' lives; she couldn't do it. Her claws dug deep into Bella's skin, cutting it and causing it to pour blood everywhere. Dior felt the wetness splatter across her face, but she didn't stop.

Bella cried under her, begging and pleading with her, but still, she didn't stop.

Dior barely even heard when the leaves crunched from behind her as two people ran across the attack, her ears ringing with fury. "Dior!" a feminine voice shouted, not even registering with the girl. Her attack went on as Bella slowly stopped fighting back. "Dior, get off of her!"

Finally, Dior heard the pleas. Her attention snapped away from Bella, who was now barely conscious on the ground, covered in claw marks and blood, and she turned to see Kai and Ris staring at her in horror at what she had just been doing. Her eyes glowed, and she watched as they took a step back from her.

Did they think she was going to hurt them? She would never hurt them.

When they moved closer together, grabbing onto each other's arms for comfort, she knew that was exactly what they were thinking. She took another step closer, her brows furrowed in sorrow and disappointment. And then branches snapping caught their attention, and they all looked over to the left.

Before Dior could even think of her next more, two growls were heard. Then two figures came running at the dirty-blonde girl, wrestling her to the ground. She struggled against them, letting out growls of her own, the scents making her aware that it was her parents who had knocked her down. But their strength overpowered hers, and she was pinned, still struggling against their hold. Her fangs were bared, and her eyes were glowing as she continuously fought against them.

"Dior, calm down, sweetie," her mother said, trying to soothe her. Her delicate hand ran over the girl's hair, her yellow eyes dimming down to their natural blue. Dior still fought against her, looking at her like she was crazy. She wanted to get away so badly. She couldn't handle this anymore. "Shh, it's okay. Calm down."

It was only a moment later that her parents were pulling her up from the ground, and Dior continued to growl. Her eyes drifted over to Nerissa and Kai, who were both crouched down next to Bella, checking to see if she was alright after what Dior did to her. Her parents just held onto her tighter, not letting her escape again.

"You girls okay?" Dior's mom asked, somewhat showcasing her fangs.

The two girls just glanced at one another and then at the woman before nodding.

Dior scowled at all of them.

"Okay, we're going to get her home and try to calm her down better," the girl's mother continued, causing Dior to glare at her. All she saw, however, was the woman glance at the bleeding teenager on the ground, giving her a concerned look. Almost frightened, like she was scared of what Dior was capable of and wondering why she had done that. "Do you need me to stay?" she asked, finding Kai and Ris's eyes again, her tone a bit shaky. "Help out with her?"

Before they could respond, chatter, flashlights shining, and branches snapping in the distance caught their attention. From the sound of dogs barking and radios, they knew it had to be the police. All of their hearts dropped, while Dior just kept fighting, hoping to get away while they were distracted, but her parents just tightened their hold on her arms.

"No." Kai shook her head repeatedly, focusing back on the woman, who, in turn, did the same with her. She seemed overwhelmed by the night. "Take her home and get her calm." She let out a ragged breath.

With that, Dior's parents turned and began dragging their daughter in the opposite direction of the police, needing to get her out of there before she was caught covered in blood and right next to an injured girl while she was still transformed. They pulled her along with them as she dragged her mud-covered feet, not wanting to go home and be chained up. It was the only way she and others could stay safe with her lack of control; that night proved that much. But she didn't want to do it anymore. She was tired.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, fighting against them.

Her mother shushed her, looking behind them in worry that the police might've heard. Then she focused back on her daughter. "Dior, you have to calm down. You'll be better in the morning when the sun's up, I promise. Just let us help you now," she told her, practically begging.

Dior didn't argue anymore, but she struggled against their hold occasionally until they finally made it back home. They brought her inside and let her down to the basement, where they, this time around with no incident, chained her up.

She slumped against the wall once they'd done so, glaring at her parents with an almost pouting look. They just both crossed their arms over their chests, giving her looks that told her they weren't going to fall for her saddened act. Then their eyes studied her, taking in all of the blood and mud that coated her skin, knowing that she'd want to immediately shower in the morning once she was feeling like her true self again because of it.

The basement was where Dior stayed all night, and her parents even stayed there with her, having a makeshift bed already down there, just in case she ever got lonely on full moon nights. Dior was covered in a blanket, keeping her warm as she slowly drifted off, so tired from the eventful night.

Eventually, dawn approached, and Dior woke up; her parents not too long after.

"Are you feeling better?" Her mother asked softly as she unlocked the cuffs.

"I wouldn't go as far as saying better," Dior muttered, the guilt of what she had done already beginning to eat away at her. "But I'm not going to attack anyone, if that's what you mean." She gave her a faint, barely there smile. Then she felt her chin wobble as she held back her tears, all of it coming back in flashes. Shoving her mom, running off, seeing Stiles and Scott, attacking that poor girl, and being brought back home—all of it. "I'm sorry, mom, about everything."

Her mom seemed on the verge of tears too. "Oh, Dior." She released a somber breath, placing her hand on the back of her daughter's head and pulling her close. "It's alright, sweetie. I know you didn't mean it." She rubbed her hand along her daughter's hair comfortingly. "It's okay."

Dior broke down then, sobbing on her mom's shoulder as her dad kneeled down at her side and hugged her as well. And they stayed like this until Dior realized how filthy she was and how much of someone else's blood was on her. She got up from the floor and all but rushed to the shower before she had a panic attack over how disgusting she felt.

She still had school that day. The first day back after winter break.

She had to put on a brave face and pretend that what she had done last night didn't happen. She wondered how Kai and Ris would react around her now that they saw her here that way. Would they hate her? Would they be scared of her like they had been last night? Or would they understand that she had no control over herself? That it was the curse that had done that to her—made her that way.

These questions ran through her mind all while she got ready for the day, running on barely any sleep, a breakfast her mom had made for her, and her medication. Since she had gotten up so early, she still had plenty of time before she had to head to school, and she was going to take as much time as she needed, not wanting to deal with it all.

She was in the middle of staring at nothing when someone knocked at her door. She already knew it was her mom before the woman even opened the door. But when she did, Dior didn't look away from her spot of emptiness. She heard her mom release a small breath through her nose as she watched her daughter with sympathy and a hint of pity.

"Did I kill her?" Dior asked, finally letting out the main question that had been running in her mind nonstop since the moment her eyes opened this morning and everything came crashing back. Her gaze drifted to her mother, who had her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. "That girl in the woods, did I kill her?" She knew her mom would know, no doubt having made some calls around town to deputies and doctors that were friends and didn't ask questions.

"No, Dior, you didn't," she replied softly. "But she was pretty hurt."

Dior looked away, letting out a breath of relief as she squeezed her eyes shut and held back her tears as best as she could. She hated crying and only did it rarely, like earlier that morning—the feeling of tears streaming down her face making her uncomfortable.

"You can't lose control like that again."

"I know."

And she did know.

Didn't mean it would be easy not to.

ella's speaking.
    omg?? it's finally written?? what?? ikr it's crazy- this literally has taken me SO LONG to write (a year... A YEAR!!! i'm so sorry), just like the archer's prologue took me literal months LMFAO, but it's finally here !!

      i really hope you enjoyed this! the chaos that this prologue was is how this fic will be practically the whole time 😭

      i'm so excited to start jumping back into this world and writing for stiles and dior!! i hope you all like what i have planned.

      make sure to comment and vote 🫶🏻

kisses.

𖦹 ────── ꗃ my tears ricochet.
( ©-LOSTGARDENS, 2024 )

word count. 6182 written. 9.1-3.24 published. 9.3.24