Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

I never understood why people think clocks tick, how did they even get the idea that the sound it makes is tick tock.

Don't mind me, I'm extremely bored and when I am, I tend to disappear in my head and ramble on about the silliest things.

Sometimes I just sit down and wonder who created words. I mean people just make up word from a bunch of letters. Who invented letters? The alphabet, the sounds, the rhyme. How did they think to call A or B? This life is just too fucking weird and the more I try to think about it, the more I realize how much time I'm wasting.

Bringing me back to the reason I'm here.

Leather.

Leather is all I can smell. Her newly purchased furniture brightens the place a bit, at least it's better than the old crappy material that was in her office before. Furnitures isn't the only thing new about this place, the whole place is different. It's like she gave her office a makeover. Probably because they've added therapist as part of her job. It's cool that they did, every teenager go through some shitty things and don't know how to deal with it, and I've seen the students of this school. I know they need some guidance and therapy and that's what she's here for.

I personally don't need a therapist because I don't well with them. I've had enough experience with therapist to last me a lifetime. But the headmaster is right, I need to talk about things that has happened even though I don't think about them anymore, it doesn't mean they don't plague me. So yeah I'm going to do it. I will sit here in this newly improved office and talk.

I mean I'm loving this new look. The plain white wallpaper on the wall lightens the mood of the room. Apart from the smell of leather, I can perceive the scent of lavender and it's nice, homey. Cool.

"How can I help you, Camille?" My eyes moves from the tiger stature on her mahogany desk, to her face. She looks different, everything about this place looks and feels different.

I didn't make an appointment for therapy, she probably thinks I'm here for some advice on the classes I should take this semester.

Miranda Mulligan is the coach of the cheerleading squad but one look at her and you'd know that she's more than that. She wears glasses and dresses like a highschool chemistry teacher. She claims to be a guidance counselor, in fact the first I noticed apart from the fabulous changes she made to this room is her degree. The one hanging behind her like a trophy.

Yeah I was going to talk to her about everything that's been going on with me, but I just remembered what happened last time I tried talking to her. I already forgot about that but seeing her framed degree just took back to the moment I was last here. That just switch my perspective. Instead of telling her what's been going on with me, I'll just talk about something else.

I'm not here to question her degree in counseling or her experience with troubled kids and how she helped them, but I'm worried about how she knows things she isn't supposed to know, like how she recognizes my markings.

I know Damian said I should wear the markings of the old gods with pride, but I'm not here to parade the school with strange marks on my body. The last thing I want is to have more people on my back, last semester's fame is enough.

The cardigan hugs my body and keeps me warm but my hand is on display, the arrows are still there. And the moment I deliberately place my hand on her desk, watching her reaction. I see the way her eye widens when they connects with my hands, so my question is pretty simple and easy.

"What makes you think you can help me?" I tease, crossing my right leg over left. She frowns as I recline against the chair, folding my arms above my chest. "And the name's still Cami."

She rolls her eyes, obviously not amused by my failed attempt to joke. "What are you doing here, Cami?"

I try not to laugh at the way she says my name. "I have a question–" Shaking my head as I correct my head. "Actually, two questions," Showing her my two fingers as I raise my head. I return my hands to myself, squeezing my biceps. "First is, what are you really doing here, Miranda Mulligan?" I ask, not giving a shit that she's my superior. I should look into her. I mean, we don't want another Sebastian Holmes in my life.

She moves forward, placing here forearm on her desk. If she takes offense to my question, she doesn't show. "I don't think I get you, Cami. I work here as a guidance counselor and therapist. I've worked here before you even knew you had powers. What are you insinuating?"

"I've always know I had powers, so the jokes on you," Smirking when I watch her forehead lines up with harsh lines. "And I'm not insinuating anything, I was just asking a question. Which brings me to my second question, what do you know about my markings? Because the first time I was here you sent me away after I asked you about it, and you lied about not knowing what it means, but you couldn't wait to tell the headmaster about it." Her face tenses up, she didn't think I'd know.

"I see you remember," I say, licking my lips. "You also seem to recognize it today. So give me the answer I want and you will not be harmed." She opens her mouth to talk but I beat her to it with a warning. "Don't tell me what I know and you'll regret it."

I don't plan on doing anything but she needs to know I mean business. Sebastian Holmes hid in plain sight and almost got me killed. I'm not taking any chances.

She chuckles but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Are you threatening me, Cami? In my own office. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Yes, Miranda, call it whatever the hell you want but I'm not leaving here without the truth," I tell her and I mean it. Four months ago, I would have let done something really stupid that'll probably lead me to detention but I'm trying to be calm and less uptight.

"You don't know anything and I don't think you want to know. Leave before you get hurt," she warns. She actually has the nerve to warn me. She is the one that's supposed to be afraid, not me. Although her words are kind of scary. What does she mean by she doesn't think I want to know?

I let out a dry chuckle with no humor. "But that's not how this works," I reply, beating my fingers against my biceps. "You tell me what I know and I'll walk out here without causing any trouble," I lean forward. "Don't tell me what I need to know and all hell is going to break loose."

She nods. "Speaking of all hell breaking loose, do you know why they call me the Lobo de bruja?" She asks.

Seriously? She is turning this into a learning moment. Yeah, I've heard some guys call her Lobo de bruja but I don't know what it actually means. I thought it was just some fancy stupid Spanish words for hot geek.

"Bet you don't even know what it means." She's stringing me along and I'm taking the bait.

"Humor me then." Doing the 'floor's all yours' gesture.

"It's means–" She pauses, leaning her head down to show me the clear sight of her eyes. And I see something I've never seen a witch or warlock do. Her eyes are glowing yellowish gold. "Decrof desloc!" she whispers and I know she just cast a boundary spell. But I also know she can't cast the spell without having something to do that barrier.

I place my hand on the arm of the chair and turn back to see the black substance line on the floor. Fucking sneaky bitch.

She opens her mouth, showing me her long canine, the teeth that looks very different from before. "It means the witch wolf."

Fade to Black. I'm fucking screwed.

"You're a werewolf and witch. I'm wondering, how is that fucking possible?"

She places her hands on the edge of her desk and pushes her chair backward, giving her space to stand. She pulls her dress shirt down and round her desk, stopping in front me. She balances a thigh on the desk while the other leg is on the floor.

Miranda intertwine her fingers and drops it on her lap, staring at me somehow. "The jig is up little birdie and they want your head on a pike," she tells me but there's nothing sincere about her tone.

They want my head on a pike. "For fucking what?!"

"Countless reasons, being an annoying little shit tops the chart." She smirks.

"Productive. I still need answers, which brings me to my third question. How are you a witch and werewolf?"

"For someone who is about to die, you sure have a lot to say, and to think you were intimidating me minutes ago."

Gosh! She has no sense of humor. How could the headmaster make this woman the guidance counselor? Wait a fucking second, if she's here then he probably knows she's a witch-wolf. And to say he isn't keeping anything from me, that sly cunning bastard.

"Answer or no answer. And who says anything about dying?"

There's only one person that's dying today and it's not me, I'm confident enough to say that.

She leans forward, I scrunch my nose when the scent of her strong perfume hit my nose. "Here is a question for you. Do you know why they call me Lobo de bruja?"

Argh! This again. "I don't give a shit. We know you're Lobo que shit. If this is your pathetic excuse of intimidation then you need to take a fucking class."

So werewolf exist. Wow... And I thought I've seen it all.

"Get out of my office and never return." She stands up and returns to her sit. "Laso." She waves her hands in the air, breaking the boundary spell.

"Cool. But I'm not leaving without my answers." I show her that I mean it.

She sighs and stares at me. "Okay, fine. What do you want to know?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "Really?" Is she bipolar or something? She was literally ready to rip my head off seconds ago and now she's got a change of heart. Whatever. "I want to know everything."

"I can't tell you anything about how I know who you really her, but I can tell you this, don't trust anyone, Camille. Not your friends, nor the Headmaster or his son. Don't trust anyone. If I were you, I'd leave this place." She advice. I should call her out on her words but there's something about her tone that makes me believe she's telling the truth and she's being sincere.

"I'm not the enemy, and I'm not here to hurt you. But there are people in this walls that are going to hurt you, worse, they might even kill you. I like the way you stood your ground when I was trying intimidate you, even if you were scared, you didn't give it away. Keep that up and you'll be able to fool every bastard that comes after you. Now, go!"

"Thanks," I whisper before walking out of her office.

"Fuck!"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I thought it was over. I thought everyone is fucking done with me. I thought the world is done with me. My plans were simple, I thought I'd return from the island as a changed young woman with a boyfriend. I even made a promise to do better in my studies, that's a lie, but still I had hope.

People don't really change, they claim to have changed, when all they really need is a snap. I just found my snap and what I'm going to do next is going to be fucking terrible.

Now, thanks to Miranda I have no one to turn to because she said I shouldn't trust anyone, it's not like I have anyone.

I was bored with no mysteries solve and now I've found a reason to open a case. I'm going to chase a ghost. And I'm starting with finding Roman Benedict's body. And I'll need his sisters.