chapter seventeen

[ season 2 | episode 9 ]
[ party guessed ]

               THREE DAYS. Seventy-two hours. 4,320 minutes. 259,200 seconds since Marlowe nearly died. Each one felt like a cavernous lapse of time, millions of moments all pancaked into one simple second. Yet she couldn't bring her mind from that night, as Victoria Argent knelt above her withering body and told the harsh truth.

When she woke up in the veterinary clinic, she swore she was in heaven. She'd passed on and her brain was giving her these last minutes of normality before she was sentenced to a forever prison of nothingness. And, in that delusion, she was glad.

Then reality stepped in as the rest of them became aware of her consciousness. She was tethered back to the world and everything she'd been through had settled in.

Now, it was Monday. Four in the morning. And Marley was simply staring up at her ceiling with a glaze shielding her eyes. Since that night, when Victoria Argent knelt above her withering body and told the harsh truth, everything else had fallen numb. There wasn't anything but a dull ring, blurred edges, and overbearing silence.

The darkness of the night hugged her like a blanket, its emptiness bringing a sense of comfort. She accepted the darkness willingly, bathing in nothing but its vast expanse of emptiness. Her mind flickered back to the rave, small bits of memory tormenting the backs of her eyelids.

A monster. She could still hear the way Victoria said it, the disgust in her voice as she looked upon the dying teenagers. I would be disgusted. She could feel the vaporized wolfsbane sitting in her lungs as she laid on that concrete, accepting a tragic death.

A muffled ring rang out, her phone vibrating beneath the pillow it'd been stuffed under. As she moved to pick it up and check the caller ID, her limbs felt weighed down, like an anchor had been tied to her joints and was sinking down, down, down.

With a heavy arm, she yanked the pillow up. It was an unknown number, just a string of ten nonsensical numbers with no meaning. Huffing, she swiped her thumb across the answer button. "Please, take me off the caller list—"

"Hi." It was a boy, his voice groggy and congested. She did a double take at the sound, expecting anything but that voice.

Sitting up, she held the phone tighter against her ear and scrunched up her face. "Isaac?" Confusion pinched at her brain as she spoke, the name foreign against her tongue. She didn't even know Isaac had her number.

The line fell silent, just a few sniffles escaping her speaker as the two sat there, connected by telephone waves. "I'm— I'm sorry, I should, um—"

"No," she whispered, almost scared to disturb the quiet of her home. "No, you're fine. I was just... surprised. Is all." She ran her tongue over her lips, waiting for him to say something. To clarify why he was calling her, of all people, as dawn toyed with the horizon.

Listening to his steady breathing, she wiped some sleep from her eyes. "I, um, I had a nightmare." His voice tightened, reluctance clinging to every syllable. Her stomach tightened with a mix confusion and pity as he spoke, a bit of understanding clinging to her edges. "About my dad."

She felt her heart shrink, stomach clenching with a grim comprehension of what he was feeling. The nightmares about her foster home were always the worst, clinging to her mind for days on end. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Minutes passed before he replied, each one egging the darkness on even further. As she sat, still against the molecules of air roaming around her bedroom, she simply waited for him to speak. "I just... you saw everything. That night. And, um, I thought maybe you could help." Her mouth opened, words lost in her throat. "You know, it's probably just stupid. I'll, uh, I'll let you sleep."

Huffing out the smallest laugh, she readjusted her hold on her device. "Trust me, Isaac, I wasn't getting much sleep no matter what. What's going on?" Suppressing a yawn, she clicked the little speaker button and left her phone on her nightstand, hands reaching for something to clean.

She heard a faint sniffle followed by some shuffling. "I just really didn't want to feel alone. I'm the only one at the subway right now." Marley nodded, feeling silly once she realized he couldn't see her. She understood that feeling; waking up after a nightmare to that utter loneliness, feeling it drag you down and drown you in your own self hatred. "When I first woke up, the walls just reminded me of the, uh, basement."

Her chest tightened, mind flashing back to the bloodied fingernail markings on that stupid ice chest. The dusty walls of that subway did have a resemblance, not too identical, but close enough to give someone with his trauma a scare. "Oh. I'll, um, I'll call you right back." And then she hung up, shrugging a jacket on and grabbing her car keys.

Her grandmother was stuck at the hospital thanks to a night shift and the streets were completely empty thanks to the early hours, meaning there were no obstacles in her way as she tumbled down the asphalt. Street lights illuminated the foggy road, a dim yellow against a backdrop of dull grey. Spring had fallen upon Beacon Hills, meaning the pollen was at its fullest and the morning dew would be at a peak.

She turned into the abandoned lot, shooting a quick text to the string of numbers she'd just hung up on, triple-checking to make sure she read it right. After just a few seconds, she saw Isaac's lanky figure making its way towards her sedan, sleep hanging on to his edges.

Rolling down her window, she craned her neck out towards him. "Get in." Particles of mist tickled her nose as she spoke, a sneeze coming quickly after.

Watching him stuff his hands in his pockets, she tilted her head impatiently at the passenger seat, unlocking the doors as a way to get him moving. A nice breeze made its way through her car as Isaac tugged at the door, eventually lowering himself onto the leather seat. She could tell that, because of his height, he was uncomfortable.

          The two drove in silence, nothing but the soft hum of music breaking through the speakers until he gently cleared his throat. "Why did you, um—" he took a quick breath, running a bony hand through his curls. "Where are we going?

          Sniffling away some slight congestion, she pushed her hair behind her ear. "It's, uh, somewhere I go after I have a rough night. It reminds me of childhood, the good parts, so it helps calm me down." Turning down a back road, her car drove parallel to the Preserve, trees passing by in blurs. She could feel her heart swell with anticipation as she got closer to her spot.

          Her hands tightened on the wheel, eyes straining as the street lights ended, leaving them with just the faint headlights. "You didn't have to do any of this. Pick me up or take me somewhere. You could've just hung up, y'know."

          A small laugh bubbled up in her chest, a hollowness beginning to weasel itself in. "Well, I'm doing what I would want someone else to do. Even if we don't like each other, I'm not gonna let you sit in those dreams." Another lapse of peaceful silence fell as she turned, the car smoothly driving over a small bump before the asphalt ended beneath them. Now, they were driving through trees and over dead leaves, the road long forgotten behind them.

          Finally, stopping just a few paces before the edge of a cliff side, she stopped the car. She barely even gave Isaac a second thought as she got out, letting the soft spring air encircle her. The lights of Beacon Hills twinkled below, a perfect reflection of the galaxy of stars in the sky.

          Walking just over to the edge, she sat down and dangled her legs from the cliff. There was an unmistakable sense of serenity in the atmosphere as she sat, listening to the silence and staring at all the lights. Everything up on that cliff felt temporary. The pain, the trauma. The nightmares. While she sat on that edge, she knew it would all end eventually. And that comforted her.

          Turning her head, she tuned in on the rhythmic crunch of leaves under Isaac's shoes. His tall legs came up beside her, bending as he sat down and stared out at the view. "This is where you go?" he whispered, a soft rumble against the clear night.

          She could feel the soft brush of wind against her cheek when she smiled, her face tingling from the slight chill in the air. "When the dreams are bad enough, yea. It helps to see how small I am. How meaningless everything about me is."

          Peering down, she watched a few pebbles slip and tumble to the trees below, her stomach churning from the height. She wasn't afraid of heights per say, but the idea of falling instead. "I like to imagine all those people down there living their own lives. They each got their own shit, so why is mine that much different?"

          From her peripheral vision, she could see his Adam's apple bob as he chuckled, pulling one of his knees up and resting his chin on it. "What a weird way to normalize sitting on the edge of a cliff." His shoulder bounced off hers as she huffed out her own laugh, the two swaying as they sat side-by-side.

          "Next time remind me to just let you suffer." Her laugh was hollowed as it barreled out into the sky, but it didn't seem so empty. Sure, it was filled with a whole lot of nothing, but it didn't feel as forced or fake as it usually did. And she liked that. She liked the sound of a genuine laugh.

          Isaac smirked, shifting his blue eyes from her to the town below. The city lights were like a display, some houses blinking on as the night sky began to fade into a navy hue, teasing the world with the thought of daylight. "Noted."

          They sat there. Just like that, with the sleeves of their shirts brushing against the other and their eyes settled on their city, until she laid back and stared up. She could see stars peeking through tree tops, thin clouds shielding the moon from her view. "I was abused for five years." Her voice was so quiet against the silence that she almost thought he couldn't even hear her.

          But, as soon as a full second passed, he flattened his back on the leaves and looked over at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

          "It started when I was nine." Marley could see the memories play every single time she blinked, the back of her eyelids becoming a screen. "I was sent to a foster home with a couple. They had four other kids with them and I was the middle. I remember doing everything in my power to rile the couple up whenever anyone else would get into trouble." She could see the long stretch of Helena's raven hair, falling down to a thin waist and bony elbows. Terrance's blond spikes that were so gelled up she swore she could see clumps of gel falling off.

          As she pictured everything, she could see the simultaneous rise and fall of her and Isaac's chests, four lungs breathing in harmony. "I remember all of it. Every single night we would all be locked in our rooms. Two boys were in one, and the other was for us three girls." Her mind raced with image after image, unwanted memories filing to the front as she relayed everything. "That's when I learned how to hide a nightmare."

          Marley fell into silence, hearing birds begin to chirp as the sun peeked out through the mountains and dawn crept upon them both. She could feel him shuffling beside her, his back blocking the horizon when he sat up. Her stomach curled once she realized how much she'd confided him, how much she'd told him. It was more than she'd told anyone, yet here she was, spilling it all to the boy who called her a powerpuff girl.

          Wiping her jeans and breathing outward with an open mouth, she stood. Her curls fell like a curtain around her face, shielding her wife eyes from Isaac's stare. "Um, we should go. I should get some sleep because I, uh, haven't had any sleep, and I have to go get a present for Lydia before her party." She could feel herself panic as she rambled, trying to excuse her impatience. "Plus, my grandmother will be home soon, so—"

          "Oh, yea, we can go." The blond stood up beside her, towering above her as he readjusted his gray v-neck. "You don't have to explain yourself."

          Nodding, still while avoiding his blue gaze, she moved in silence toward her car, quickly sitting in her front seat and starting it up. The entire ride back to the lot was silent, filled by just that small hum of pop music and the unspoken words between the two teenagers.

               AS MARLOWE RAN HER HANDS DOWN HER FACE, with her car parked just outside of Lydia Martin's huge, fancy house, she felt the affects of the full moon. Her short black heels clicked on the pavement as she walked, trying to ignore the pull of the celestial body.

          Trying to gulp as much oxygen down as possible while still keeping her raging wolf at bay, she ran two hands down her navy dress. According to Allison, this party wasn't such a casual thing and required a more formal outfit—hence the absurd heels and outfit. The only thing keeping her sane was the thin cardigan she'd paired with it, the cotton material comforting on her bare skin.

          She could feel the anxiety punching at her stomach lining, almost begging to be set free. It crawled against her organs, pushing and tearing at whatever it could simply to grab her attention. In, and out. In, and out.

          After quickly pressing the doorbell and being let inside, with a small, plastic cup of punch, she tucked some hair behind her ear. Her eyes traveled over everything, taking in the living area with an insatiable hunger. The house definitely mirrored the inside of Lydia's wallet.

          Bringing the small cup to her mouth, she busied her mind with the sour, yet sweet tang of the spiked drink. "Dammit," she whispered, feeling the burn of mild alcohol climbing slowly down her throat. Clenching her keys in one hand and the cup in another, Marley sucked in some air. She didn't want to drink tonight. Just that one, she decided, downing the rest of it in one quick gulp. Just that one.

          Her shoes were loud against the wooden floors as she walked, searching everywhere for the two boys she'd received a text from earlier that day. If she wasn't so afraid of accidentally falling victim to the moon, she would've listened for them, but the fear outweighed her want to find Scott and Stiles. She would've rather wandered around aimlessly than go on a crazy, werewolf, murder spree.

          "No, but we should probably tell her what we found." With wide eyes, she watched Stiles round a small corner, his hand in the air as he spoke to Scott. He wore his signature flannel, a light grey shirt beneath it.

Beside him, Scott stared out ahead, his feet dragging along the wood flooring as he walked. "I'm still kind of not sure what we found."

Trying her hardest not to fall, she hurried over to the two boys, standing just behind them. She could feel pride bubble up in her stomach at the simple fact that she did find them. All without her werewolf abilities. "Tell who what that we aren't sure about?"

She held down a small laugh as Stiles jumped, his head whipping around to face her with panicked eyes. "Gah—! Don't do that." The boy held a hand to his chest, eyes narrowing at Marley as she thinned her lips to hold down a giggle. "We figured out that it has something to do with water. You know, the fact that all the victims were on the swim team, the way the kanima reacted around the pool."

What the hell did she miss? Her mind felt full at all of the information, her finger drumming a small tune out on her thigh as she thought. "Yea, that's definitely more than a coincidence. Now, who are we telling?"

When her brown eyes met Scott's, he smiled at her, his cheeks puffing up as they usually did whenever he smiled. "We're telling Allison. Well, and you, but you kind of already know now." He looked back at his best friend, adjusting the black blazer that hugged his shoulders. "So, whoever's controlling the kanima hates the swim team?"

"Hated," he said, "the swim team. Specifically, the two-thousand-six swim team. So it could be another teacher. Maybe another student from back then. I mean, who are missing? What haven't we thought of?"

The duo led her outside, where she expected an entire herd of kids to gather. Considering the reputation that Lydia Martin's birthday party carried with the students of Beacon Hills High, she expected more than just them and Allison. Hell, she expected people to arrive from schools she'd never even heard of.

But that was the reputation of the old Lydia. The one who didn't walk around the woods naked for three days and re-emerge with little to no memory of said three days. This one, the one who did do such a thing, wasn't the bombshell everyone remembered. This one had a reputation; the reputation of the crazy, whacked out, ex it girl.

Trying to hide the confusion and disappointment, Marley smiled as Allison came closer, her hair twisted into a side ponytail. She hadn't seen the Argent since the night Victoria tried to kill her. She swore she could almost feel that vaporized wolfsbane swirling inside of her lungs as she stared at Allison's ivory skin.

Instead of focusing on the phantom feelings, she shook her head of anything to do with any of the Argents expect for Allison. "Uh, Jackson's not here."

Next to Marlowe, Stiles stood with his hands on his hips, narrowed eyes pointed out towards the yard. "Yea, no one's here." The only sounds aside from their conversation was the soft hum of music in the background, the song matching the one from Monday, when she drove Isaac to the cliff.

"Maybe it's just early." Scott tried to reason, and she could tell it was out of pity, but none of them bought the excuse. They all knew why the backyard was stranded.

As if voicing her thoughts, Stiles spoke. "Or, maybe nobody's coming because Lydia's turned into the town whack job." Following his line of sight, she found Lydia, standing in her grey dress with her tray of punch in hand, and a barrel of pity punched through her gut.

"Well, we have to do something because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks." Tugging at the hem of her open, floral dress, Allison shifted her gaze from her best friend back to the trio.

Scott shrugged, his lips curling in a small pucker. "She's completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years." He looked over at Stiles, the tiniest grin on his face.

"I prefer to think of it as me not having been on her radar yet," he spoke, stumbling over his words and casting a glare at the boy beside him. He gestured with his hands, adding to the comedic affect by making the weird hand motions.

With her hand resting on her lips, Marley sighed. "You know, I almost feel like that's worse, Stilinski. Means you're not even important enough to be on that radar." Her body swayed as Stiles pushed her bicep with his hand, muttering a small insult and taking a tiny step away from her.

Scott stared at them with a grin before turning back, shaking his head and shrugging once more. "We don't owe her a party."

When faced with the furrowed brows of one Allison Argent, Marley didn't expect to feel so dirty. She could feel her heart sinking as Ally's eyes widened in a small pout. "What about the chance to get back to normal?"

"Normal?" he asked.

Allison shifted, her flats silent against the stone. "Well, she wouldn't be the town whack job if it wasn't for us."

While she tucked some hair behind her ear, maneuvering around her dangling earring, Marley bit at the inside of her cheek. "Allison kind of has a point. We—err, you guys dragged her into all of this, so we—you—should help out."

She listened to Scott huff out a sigh, his lips pulled into a thin line before he finally spoke. "I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here."

Looking over at Stiles, she watched him scratch his buzzed head, a slow, annoyed smile appearing before he also sighed. "Yea, I know a few people who can get this going. Like, really going."

          Craning her head forward, Allison furrowed her brows. "Who?"

          Marley grinned, mind returning to the gay club where Stiles traded numbers with a few of the drag queens. "Oh, we met them the other night."

          He stared at her, eyes narrowed and hand resting on the back of his neck. "Let's just say they know how to party." Hell yea, they do.

          An hour and a half later and the party was in full swing. Kids crowded every single one of the rooms, making out and chugging the cups of punch. Marley had just departed from Scott and Stiles, where she had a quick conversation with the latter about him stabbing himself in the face before Mr. Lizard Guy showed up, and was now trying to force herself through the hoard of drunken teenagers.

"Oh, come on," she whispered, still trying to somehow break up two girls who were practically vacuuming each other's face off. The bathroom was at the back end of this hallway, meaning she would either have to find another one or break up the make out sesh. Groaning, she awkwardly tapped one of the girls' shoulders. "Okay, I really don't want to be that person, but I really have to use the bathroom, so could you please—"

The blonde one looked up, her eyelids drooping and the stench of cannabis stuck to her breath. "Oh, sorry, that one's taken." She giggled as she bit her bottom lip, a red hue taking over the whites of her eyes.

Giving the girl a tight smile, Marley turned and began back towards the stairs. "Great, thanks." Her teeth gnawed at the inside of her cheek as she wandered the halls, trying to remember where the hell the grand staircase was. She saw Allison, gripping her abdomen with her mouth agape, and was about to check if she was alright before her foot got caught on something.

Holding back a groan, she shook her foot, trying to get the pain to dissolve from the simple motion. Tiny needles of pain radiated from her toes to her ankle, each one a stinging sensation that she would rather not be forced endure. She'd absorbed the pain of a broken wrist before, yet getting her toe stubbed made her feel like she'd been caught on fire.

When she finally looked back up to where Allison once stood, she met emptiness. Her mind swirled with questions, confusion fueling her veins. The look on the Argent was one of pain, her hands seemingly clenched around something invisible.

It was nothing, she thought, deciding to simply shrug it off as a trick of the eye. Jackson wouldn't be stupid enough to try something at a party this crowded. Not in front of this many people. Allison had to be safe.

Finally, she found the staircase and began to ascend, mind still set on whatever the hell just happened. It wasn't until she caught a glimpse of a lab coat and dark blue scrubs that she focused on the stairs, her feet stopping just before she could move from the small landing that rested halfway up, a break as the steps began to go the opposite direction. She gulped, familiar with that shiny black hair and the watch on one of the wrists she managed to see.

With a thundering heart and racing mind, she continued. The upstairs was carpeted, her heels muffled against the flooring compared to how they clicked on the wood, but Marley wasn't paying attention to any of that. Instead, her eyes locked onto the shadow of a man in a surgeons coat as he rounded a corner, that watch visible for just a second before disappearing again.

Her throat tightened, legs aching as she slowly followed the figure. Everything in her began to scream. Every single organ, every thought, every molecule, all of it began to give blood-curdling screams as she grew closer, her feet shuffling faster along the floor. Go back, it said. And she stopped. Because this was impossible. There was no way that—

"Dad?" She could feel tears collecting in the corner of her eyes as the figure—Timothy St. Claire—stood in front of her. The word nearly got lost in her throat before she choked it out, the man's head turning and his blue eyes meeting hers.

He gave her a wide smile, his pearly teeth as perfect as she remembered them. "Marlowe." And just like that, she remembered why she once found her name so beautiful. The world paused as she ran to him, jumping into his arms and inhaling his cologne. "Oh— look at you! You're so big, now."

Ignoring the bad feeling that built up in her gut, she stared at her deceased father with tears clouding her eyes, his figure blurred. "How? How are you here?" As soon as they departed, she began to miss him once more. Her eyes scanned his face, his cheekbones, his black hair. She drank his appearance in because she feared that if she blinked or looked away for even a second, he would be gone again.

"He's not." The voice came from behind, familiar and gut-wrenching. She turned and— and nobody was there. Instead, she could hear her father's strangled cry, his body falling against the wall as blood pooled from three gash marks on his stomach. His navy scrubs were torn, the material turning black as it dripped with blood.

Then the world began to crash down once more. "Dad!" Her knees burned as she kept, sliding across the floor and ignoring the way it rubbed her skin raw. "What—"

          "You," he choked out, staring at his little girl with disgust and hatred lingering in his blue irises. "You did this. You're a—a monster." She followed his gaze to her hands, where her fingernails had been replaced by bloodied claws, a crimson liquid coating her fingertips. "You killed us all, Marlowe. M—murderer."

          Marley's heart dropped, her stomach pooling with anger and disgust, pain and despair. Oh God, how she wanted to take her claws and rake them through her body, how she wanted to feel her muscles tearing and organs splitting. "No. No, Dad, I—"

Flecks of something hit her face, interrupting her as she spoke. When she looked at her father, she gasped. There, in his chest, was a hole the size of a human heart. And in her hand was the organ, still beating as her sharp nails punctured it. "Oh—oh my God. Oh my God."

          "Marley?" Scott's voice grabbed her attention, her hand closing in on the heart as she turned to look at him. Except, instead of feeling the organ in her hand, she simply felt her own skin. And it was dry.

          With wide eyes, she whipped her head back, surprised when she found the wall empty. Her father wasn't sitting there, bleeding out. Nor was he cursing her name or calling her a monster. "What?" She felt a tear drop from her chin to her thigh.

Pity clung to Scott when he took a few steps forward, still looking at the girl who knelt down, body shaking like her world had caved in. Because it had. "It wasn't real, Marley. He wasn't there." She could feel his hand resting on her shoulder, a comforting touch as she stared at the spot she swore her father was in. "It was the punch. Lydia laced it with wolfsbane."

          Trying to choke out a laugh, she used her still clenched fist to wipe away her mascara-stained tears. "Oh, yea— yea, that makes sense." Her heart thundered within her rib cage as she spoke, lungs heaving with emotion. "Um, you should probably go find Stiles. I'll meet up with you in a second. Promise."

          Watching his body retreat before disappearing around the corner, and listening to his heartbeat fade away, Marlowe curled into herself. And she cried.

               SHE FOUND SCOTT AND STILES SITTING BESIDE THE POOL, the latter resting against a brick pillar as Scott tried to snap him from a daze. With still shaking hands and a hollowed out chest, she knelt beside them, ignoring the whispers inside her head. They told her that he thought she was pathetic. He thought she was a child, an embarrassment to simply be around.

          She watched Scott continuously shove a bottle of water at Stiles, near begging him to drink it. "Something's happening, and I'm gonna need your help."

Pushing her emotions and anxieties down, she slipped on a mask. "Need me to slap him awake?" she suggested, pulling a cool smile onto her face as she stared at the two boys.

He huffed out a laugh, pushing the water bottle even closer. "As thoughtful as it is, I doubt that would work. C'mon, Stiles."

"What do you two think you're doing?" A black girl knelt down one the other side of the pillar, her knees sitting in a small puddle of chlorine-filled water. "You wanna sober him up fast, that's not the way to do it."

Resting the water bottle against his leg, he looked at her. "You can do better?"

Her face scrunched about, almost as if she'd been insulted, and she grabbed onto Stiles' arm. "I can do best, boy." She tsked before dumping his head fully under water, yanking him back up after a second and splashing water all over.

Stiles gasped, eyes wide and face dripping with pool water. He shook his head, getting even more water on her dress, before spitting some out. "Whoo!"

The girl smiled, her cheeks wide. "How do you feel?"

Marley watched him stare at her, eyes red as water dripped in from his lashes. "Like I might have to revisit my policy on hitting a girl." She laughed.

The girl stood back up, nodding and straightening out her pink, zebra print cardigan. "He's sober."

As soon as the girl left, Marley laughed, pulling Stiles up and getting him on his feet. Water pooled around them, his shoulders soaking wet and heart beating in a rapid beat. After a few moments, and a nod from Scott, she left the two to talk, her eyes searching for Lydia.

Scott found petals of wolfsbane in the punch, meaning she put them there. Meaning she was trying to weaken the werewolves, whether they knew it or not. Marley's chest ached when she remembered the last time she'd inhaled wolfsbane, with Victoria Argent standing above her and the world leaving her grasp.

Kids shouted, each one obviously hallucinating some weird image, as they threw each other into the pool. Her heels clicked again as she took a few steps back, avoiding the slick concrete. "No— I can't swim!"

She watched Matt get thrown in, protests adamant as his body crashed through the water's surface. His hands pulled at the top, body falling deeper and deeper as the moon shone down on the yard. Her throat closed as she watched him scream in protest, mouth filling with the chlorine. And, as a hand pulled him up from the pool, she looked across the pool to lock eyes with both Stiles and Scott.

"Why are you looking at?" As he dripped with water, Matt stared at the hoards of teenagers. She stopped breathing when he turned, staring her dead in the eye before walking past the two boys with a similar look.

Suddenly, as police sirens rang out, the party scattered. Lost in the middle of the panic, she followed the crowd, simply trying to get back to Scott or Stiles. She could feel bodies hit up against her, people pushing her in a rush to leave. Her lungs began to close and her hands grew clammy—

"Marley!" Scott's hand wrapped around her forearm, dragging her into the street and away from the stampede. He held her up, scanning her for any injury. "You okay? Marley?"

But she wasn't looking at him. Instead, her eyes were pointed forward, locked onto the kanima as it stood before Matt, it's tail circling the boys legs protectively. She could feel the fury in his brown eyes as he stared them down, the lizard's own eyes watching her every breath.

          Stiles was right. Matt was the killer.

word count: 5628

a/n
yea, this one hurt to write.

um, we got some more marsaac content and y'all got to meet Marley's father!!

this also leaves us with about three more episodes before going onto season 3 (which i am so excited for omg)

let me know what y'all thought!!