Chapter Text
“Scott? Scott, what are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Scott says, his right leg bouncing up and down with his hands interlocked in his lap.
Ms. Morrell has her hands on her desk, her straight black hair runs down her shoulders. Scott watches as an ant crawls along the white tile floor, probably on a search for food for its’ family, not knowing it can die at any minute.
“We’re going to have to talk about it, Scott.” Her voice is soothing, even if Scott doesn’t want to be in counseling, talking about it, her voice has a way of calming him down. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“Death.” Scott doesn’t look up, continues to watch the ant make its way across the floor until it reaches the wall. It turns around and starts walking the opposite direction.
“What about death?”
“There’s an ant,” he says, pointing to the black speck moving around. “It’s probably trying to find food. Someone’s going to come along and kill it for no reason other than it’s an ant. I don’t know; it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Scott. Finish the thought.”
“It’s just,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Everyone thinks they’re safe, that nothing bad will happen. We’re just ants. We roam around and try to find happiness and love and it can all just be taken away in an instant. The shooting…” Scott falters and his tongue flicks across his bottom lip, a lump forming in his throat. “It happens. I know that. People snap. But the look in his eyes; he didn’t snap. I could see how much pain he had and I tried…” His eyes start to burn and he rubs his fingers roughly across them, clearing his throat. “I tried to help.”
“I know you did, Scott,” Ms. Morell says, “don’t blame yourself.”
“How can I not!” Scott bolts up, moving his jaw from side to side. “I could have done more. I should have done more.”
“You did everything you could.” She stands up and walks over to him, very gently resting her hands on his shoulders.
“No,” he says, pivoting away and walking towards the door. “Times up. I’ll see you next week.”
[3 months ago]
“Scotty!” Stiles says, running up behind Scott and grabbing his shoulders. “How’s it hanging?”
“A little to the left,” Scott says, smirking. “You ready for today?”
“The day in which is technically our last day of classes for junior year? That day? Yeah. You could say I’m ready.”
“So,” Scott says, patting Stiles on the back, “you’re just ready for summer break.”
“Yes!” Stiles exclaims, throwing his hands into the air and spinning around, facing Scott and walking backwards down the hallway. “This whole get Lydia to notice me this year failed and I’m ready for a break. Ready for a summer with you and video games and not worrying about having to put on deodorant to impress a girl.”
“Dude, you’re still going to be putting deodorant on.” Scott shakes his head and they stop at his locker. “I’m not going to smell you all summer.”
“You know you love my smell,” Stiles says, raising his arms and sticking his face into his right armpit, sniffing. “It is a distinct aroma of manliness and butter.”
“I hate you,” Scott says, rolling his eyes. “You’re putting on deodorant, Stiles. Otherwise you’re not coming over my house this summer.”
“As if you could keep me away.” Stiles’ back straightens and his eyes widen. “Dude, Matt.” Scott turns around and sees Matt trudging down the hallway; his hands shoved in his jacket pocket, and his face lowered towards the ground. “Remember last week when he went all crazy at that party and tried to get with Allison? Better watch out, he might come after you and try to fight you for her.”
“Stiles,” Scott deadpans, turning back to face him, “shut up.”
“Speaking of,” Stiles says, winking at Matt as he walks by. “Where is the lovely Allison,” he says, deliberately raising his voice.
“Her and Jackson had swim practice early today. She said something about them needing to get one last practice in before summer.”
“Jackson.” Stiles shudders and scrunches his face. “How can Allison stand to be near him?”
“She isn’t in love with Lydia, so it isn’t a issue,” Scott says, closing his locker and laughing. “Unlike you.”
Stiles almost pouts while giving him a wounded look. “Right in heart, Scotty.”
“You sure that look on your face isn’t from you smelling yourself?”
“Oh wow, I didn’t know this was a comedy show,” Stiles says, glaring at Scott. “I would have remembered to laugh.”
-xxx-
“Can you talk to Lydia for me?” Jackson sits down on the bench in the locker room, Allison is leaning on the locker across from him. “I don’t know how to tell her that I may be moving in the fall.”
“Jackson,” Allison says, shaking her head and sitting down next to him. “You’re going to have to tell her. This isn’t the type of news you have someone else tell for you.”
They both are in their bathing suits; Allison’s hair is wet and tied up in a messy bun and Jackson is shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist. If someone had told Allison a year ago that her and Jackson Whittemore would be friends, well, she would have laughed in their faces, and yet here they are, friends.
“But you’re her best friend. It’ll be easier for her to hear it from you.”
“You know that’s not true.” Allison pats him on the shoulder and stands up. “I’m gonna go get changed in the girl’s locker room. You should tell her today.”
“How about I’ll tell her the day you can actually swim faster than me?” Jackson has his cocky smirk plastered on his face and Allison rolls her eyes.
She grabs her towel that is hanging off the open locker and wraps it around herself, walking out of the locker room. The girl’s locker room is right across the hallway and as she goes to open up the door she sees someone walking down the hallway. The person is wearing a black jacket with the hood up and one of their hands is shoved in the pocket of the jacket, hand seemingly wrapped around something. There’s a pulling in her stomach that twists into knots because something feels out of place, wrong.
Before she dwells anymore on it, she opens up the door to the locker room and steps in. The locker room is deadly silent and she stands still next to the door, listening to the footsteps as they echo through the downstairs hallway. The door has a small glass pane in the middle and she peeks through, seeing the hooded figure stop in the middle between the two doors before turning to the boy’s locker room.
She hurriedly grabs her clothes out of her locker, grabbing her purple tights and slipping them on, covered by her jean shorts. Once her red striped flannel is on she closes her locker and walks to the door again, peering out to see if the person is still there. No sign.
She cautiously opens the door, turning from side to side to see her surroundings. No one. Allison walks across to the boy’s locker room door and grabs the handle, palms sweaty. Slowly, she turns the handle and cracks the door open, listening.
“Matt, what the hell are you doing in here?” She can hear Jackson say.
Allison opens the door fully and sneaks in, crouching down behind a set of lockers. She peeks around the corner and can see Jackson standing by the showers, a towel tied around him. Matt is standing across from him, his back to Allison.
“Everyone just thinks they can walk all over me,” Matt says, his left hand tapping continuously against the side of his leg. “You always get everything. The money, the girls, the popularity.”
“It’s called being someone,” Jackson says, and Allison can see Matt shaking his head over and over again. “Sorry you’re a fucking loser man.”
“Why Allison?” Matt steps forward and Jackson’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You already have Lydia. Allison is too good for you, too perfect.”
“Dude,” Jackson says, “she doesn’t like you. Did you not get that memo last week. She thinks you’re a freak, a loser and she would never even consid-”
Before Jackson can even finish his word Matt pulls his right hand out of his jacket pocket and Allison can see that it’s a gun but before she can react there’s a loud pop and Jackson collapses to the floor, blood pouring out of the hole in his forehead.
Allison’s hand immediately covers her mouth and she backs up against the locker, feeling her whole body shake. Tears are falling down her cheeks and she tries her best not to breathe loudly.
“We’ll see about that,” Matt says, and Allison can hear his footsteps leading to the door.
She stays perfectly still, breathing through her nose as the tears stream down her face. It feels like small pins are being pricked all over her skin and she’s dizzy. The door opens and then closes and all Allison can hear is the erratic sound of her heart beating in her chest.
There’s a loud bang from across the hallway and then the slamming of a door; Allison doesn’t move, fear crippling her. Her hands are still covering her mouth and her body is still shaking. She tries to take in deep breaths but she can’t control her breathing.
After a few minutes of steadily breathing in and out, Allison pushes her hands against the locker and stands up on quivering legs. She holds on to the locker and tries to take a step forward, her leg collapsing underneath her.
“Come on Allison,” she says to herself, wiping her eyes. “You’re not weak. Get up and walk out. You need to walk out.” Her eyes are burning as tears fall down her cheeks; she tries once more and manages to take a few more steps, seeing Jackson’s limp body in a pool of blood.
She gasps and covers her mouth again, whiping the tears away and forcing herself to walk on and walk out of the locker room.
-xxx-
Erica is walking down the hallway on her way to class. She has on a black mini leather skirt and a form fitting white tank. Her books are stacked in her hands and she’s rushing down the hallway; the bell already rang and she still has to return the books to the library before the day is over. She knew she shouldn’t have waited till the last day to do it because now the line is most likely going to be extremely long and she’ll end up missing lunch. Procrastination is something she’s working on.
Without looking, Erica turns the corner and crashes into someone’s shoulder, sending all her books toppling down onto the floor.
“Fuck,” she hisses, looking up and seeing Matt standing in front of her. His face is a ghostly white and there are dark circles under his eyes; he looks drawn out. “Oh, Matt. Sorry.”
“Are you?” His voice sends a chill down her spine, cold and hostile. “You know I never did understand why you stopped talking to me? Did you just become too cool to be seen with me?”
“Matt,” she says, crouching down to pick up her books. “We just grew apart. It happens.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head and running one of his hands through his hair. “No. You stopped talking to me, stopped texting, stopped everything. We were friends. We used to eat lunch together all the time.”
“Can we not do this right now?” She grabs the last book off the floor and places it on top of the other ones in her arms. “I’m already late for class.”
Erica starts to walk forward but Matt steps to the side and blocks her path, glaring. She steps to the other side and again tries to go forward but he blocks her, this time stepping forward and knocking her books down.
“What the fuck!” Erica bends down and grabs at the books angrily. “You’re such a freak, you know that?” She is about to say more when she feels something hard and cold being pushed against the top of her head; she slowly looks up and can see the barrel of a pistol aiming straight at her face. “Matt,” she says, her voice small and shaky, “what are you doing?”
“I’m a freak, huh? I’m a nobody, huh?” He roughly pushes the pistol harder against her skull; she let’s out a strangled noise of fear as his other hand grabs her arm and yanks her to her feet. “You stopped hanging out with me because what, you grew some tits? Got a new wardrobe? That doesn’t make you better than me.”
“Matt, listen,” she says, feeling her knees wobbling underneath her.
“No, you listen!” He shouts as he lurches forward, hand gripping the back of her hair and holding her face in place as the gun is aimed at the dead center of her forehead. “I did nothing! So I like Allison? So I take a few pictures of her without her knowing? That doesn’t make me a freak. That doesn’t mean everyone in the school can walk all over me, call me names, throw me in a pool.”
“I heard about that,” she says, trying to choose her words as carefully as possible. “I’m sorry, Matt. I wasn’t there. I heard they threw you in and you couldn’t swim.”
“Don’t,” he says, and she can see tears forming in his eyes. “Don’t give me some fake pity. If you were there last week you would have laughed too.”
“No! No, I wouldn’t have.” She can feel tears falling down her cheeks and she doesn’t move a muscle. “We grew apart, yes. But I would have never done something like that, you have to believe me.”
“Why?” He spits the word out as if it’s acid. “Because we used to be friends?”
“Because you know me.” Her heart is banging ferociously against her chest and she is trying to take in steady breaths, trying to seem calm so he won’t shoot.
“I knew you,” he says, turning the gun to side and his arm is shaking and she can see his finger twitching against the trigger.
“Matt, please! You don’t have to do this!” She instinctually puts her hands up to show she won’t try anything. “You can just leave and I won’t tell anyone, okay? I won’t tell!”
“You’re wrong,” he says, licking his bottom lip and squeezing his eyes shut.
“No, Matt!”
Bang.
-xxx-
“Did you hear that?” Lydia asks, sitting next to Isaac in class. “It sounded like a gunshot.”
“Yeah,” Isaac says, his legs stretched out straight in front of him because he is too tall for the desks at the school. “Maybe it was a senior prank? Let off firecrackers or something in the hallway, you know?”
“Maybe,” she says, an uneasy feeling washing over her. “I hope it’s just that.”
“Attention Beacon Hill’s High,” the principal’s voice echoes out of the loudspeaker at school. “We are on lockdown. This is not a drill. Everyone lock your classroom doors and do not let anyone in. The police have been notified. Until further instructions, I repeat, we are on lockdown.”
“I don’t think it was a firecracker,” Lydia says, her stomach twisting into knots.
“Lydia,” Isaac whispers, and Lydia can see his knuckles are white and he’s squeezing the desk. “I can’t be here. I can’t…” His breathing starts to come out shallower and Lydia can see his face is flushed. “Being stuck places makes me...I just can’t be stuck. I’m claustrophobic.”
“Okay,” she says, thinking back to all the things she’s read online. “Okay. I read once that you need to just take small breaths, okay? Can you do that?” She watches as Isaac jerkily nods his head, breathing in and out shallowly. “You need to relax, also. Just, Isaac, look at me.”
Isaac turns his head and Lydia can see that there’s sweat on his brow, his eyes wider than she’s ever seen them before and his hands are still gripping the desk.
“I know it’s hard,” she continues, “but just look at me.” Isaac is looking directly at her and she’s nodding, imitating his breathing. “Okay now just try to relax. It’ll help.”
“I can’t,” he breathes out, shaking. “Lydia, I can’t.”
“You can. Once you relax and get your breathing down you and I are gonna talk, about normal things. The weather, the birds perched on the tree outside the classroom window, the fact that after today it’s summer so we can go to the beach or do anything you want.”
“Yeah,” he says nodding and she can see him looking past her towards the birds in the tree, towards the classroom windows.
“See, not so bad, right?”
He gives her a half smile and she can visibly see his shoulders starting to relax down and his breathing beginning to steady.
“So,” she says, “tomorrow is supposed to be sunny with basically no clouds and I’m thinking we should all go out and get some lunch by the beach? Me, you, Jackson, Scott and Allison.”
-xxx-
Allison slowly opens up the locker room door, taking one last look back; Jackson’s pale lifeless body is in contrast of the dark red pool of blood taking form. Gagging, she forces herself to get a hold of her nerves and step out into the hallway, not sure if Matt is actually gone. She doesn’t move, not yet. It’s quiet besides the loud beating of her heart filling her ears; she holds her breath and listens, tries her best to ignore her heart beat and focus on her surroundings. Nothing.
A loud bang echoes off and her hands immediately slap hard against her mouth to keep quiet. Another gunshot, meaning another person hurt, or worse, dead. The thought of staying down in the locker rooms sweeps over her, maybe she’ll be more safe down here since Matt has already been here, maybe he won’t come back. But Allison isn’t one to hide, to wait and hope that everything works out and she sure as hell isn’t going to sit idly by while people she loves are in danger.
With a self assurant nod Allison takes a step forward; her legs are still wobbly but she forces herself to keep going, to move on, try and stop anyone else from getting hurt.
The announcement over the intercom saying the school is on lockdown somehow calms her nerves the slightest because now everyone will stay inside and hopefully no one else will get hurt. At the same time though, it sends an ice cold chill down her spine because now she’s out in the open and no one can let her into the classrooms.
Her phone is in her locker in the main hallway and she knows now she’s going to have to get to it to be able to text her friends, her dad, anyone. She instantly regrets not taking it with her in the morning before swim practice.
As she’s walking down the hallway it all feels different. Everyday she has walked this same way and never once thought that something this horrific could happen, that she would one day be treading with fear down the same walkway. The quietness alone is eerie but the reason behind it makes the hair on her arm stand on end.
With each turn around a corner, Allison’s whole body tenses and her stomach twists around inside her with the not knowing what’s to come. It’s like she’s in a maze for Halloween and at any moment Matt is going to come popping out and attack. Her black boots click with each step and she tries her best to be as light as possible on her toes.
She holds her breath as she makes another turn in the hallway and she sees someone bloodied on the floor; the person’s blonde long hair is hanging in front of their face but Allison doesn’t have to see her face to know, Erica.
“Oh my God,” she whimpers and starts to back up, only to be stopped by something hard behind her. A hand roughly covers her mouth and she feels something cold against her temple.
“Just the person I was looking for,” Matt hisses, his grip so tight around her jaw she thinks it might pop out of place. “You’re coming with me.”
Allison thrashes and tries to scream but his grip is too tight so she stomps her foot down onto his. She feels the gun move away from her and then a sharp pain shoots across her face and her vision tunnels out into darkness.
-xxx-
“Do you think it’s anything bad?” Stiles asks, gnawing at the end of his eraser.
“It can’t be anything good,” Scott says, his hands tapping nervously on the desk. “I hope no one’s hurt, you know?”
“Yeah,” Stiles says as he stops biting on the eraser and his mouth opens wide. “This means my dad is going to come. Maybe he knows what’s up.”
Scott watches Stiles as he grabs his cell phone out of his pocket and starts jabbing his fingers into the keyboard, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.
“Mr. Stilinski,” Mr. Harris says, “did the rules suddenly change? Did I say you can use your phone?”
“No, but it’s a lockdo-”
“Yes,” Mr. Harris says, walking over to where Stiles is sitting, snatching the phone out of his hand. “Now where does it say we get to text in class. We are still in class, are we not?”
“Are you serious?” Scott says angrily.
“Deadly. Now unless you both want detention, I suggest you stop talking and go back to work.”
Mr. Harris turns around and Stiles points his hand at him, flipping him off.
“Asshole,” Stiles mutters and Scott smirks.
“I heard that. Both of you, detention. I’m thinking you can clean the floors in the classroom with a toothbrush, yes?”
Scott can see Stiles is about to say something snarky back and reaches out, grabbing his forearm. “It’s not worth it,” Scott says, rubbing his thumb on Stiles’ arm. “Come on, last day of school remember? He can’t actually give us detention.”
Stiles nods his head and pats Scott’s hand, “you’re right.”
-xxx-
Allison’s eyes barely crack open, everything’s a blur. There’s a burning pain that starts from the right side of her temple and spreads out like a virus, making her whole face ache. She opens her eyes again, this time trying her best to make out her surroundings. It’s dark and there’s a small line of light directly across from her. Feeling the cold hard surface beneath her, she can at least tell that she’s lying down.
“Finally.” She hears a voice come from behind her.
“Where?” she starts, but realizes as she looks up; the supply closet.
“Get up,” Matt says, nudging her leg with his foot; she doesn’t move. “Get up!” This time he kicks her hard, making her yelp out in pain.
Allison reaches out and grabs one of the metal shelves beside her, pulling herself up. Matt is standing across from her, gun pointed directly at her face. Before she can react, Matt lunges forward, his hand gripping her neck as he slams her against the shelves; her head collides with one of them and she momentarily loses sight of her surroundings before she is violently pulled forward against him.
“This is all I’ve wanted,” he says, running the gun along the side of her cheek and pushing her hair behind her ear. “You and I, together.”
“Fuck you,” she seethes as his grip around her neck loosens, his hands snaking around to the nape of her neck.
“That’s all you have to say to me?” He shakes his head, tongue flicking across his bottom lip. “You think you can just humiliate me at a party and I’m gonna let it go? Let you walk all over me? I want you, why can’t you see that?” His hand closes around a chunk of her hair and he yanks her head back, mouth closed up against her neck, his breath hot and sickening. “I’m better than Scott could ever be.”
“You honestly think I’d ever even consider you?” She forces herself to laugh through the pain, make sure he doesn’t feel like he’s effecting her. “I’m not something for you to have. I’m not this prize for you to take just because you like it.”
“And yet you parade around smiling at me and asking me to come to a party with you,” he breathes out, pulling his face back and glaring into her eyes.
“Is that what you think? That I asked you to come with me?” Anger courses through her bones and she isn’t afraid at this moment; she isn’t going to let him have that satisfaction. “You asked me what I was doing that weekend so I told you I was going to a party, that’s all. You’re the sick bastard who thought that meant you can grab me and try to get me alone.”
“Well you know what they say,” he chuckles, “perception is reality.”
Allison’s hand is by her side and she puts it behind her back slowly, reaching around on the shelf to see if she can feel anything to defend herself with, anything at all.
“You’re sick, you know that?” Allison can feel something against her fingertips and stretches her arm back as far as it can go, trying to get a grip on it.
“Yeah? Well you’re a fucking tease.” He leans in until their lips are almost touching and whispers, “I like a challenge.”
Allison wraps her hand around the object and feels to see what it is, a stapler. She can work with that. Matt’s grip on her hair loosens and he moves it back around front, until his hand is shoved against her neck, choking her.
“Matt,” she says, trying her best to keep her breathing under control. “Stop.”
“Or what?” He puts the barrel of the gun right above her heart. “You’re gonna stop me?”
“You don’t want to do this, Matt.”
“Oh, but I do.” A sinister smile creeps across his face. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn the fuck around!”
He yanks Allison forward and then twists her around, shoving her face first into the shelves. Her already bruised temple slams against it roughly and she shrieks in pain, losing her grip on the stapler. She can feel the gun pushing into her shoulder.
“Matt,” she says through gritted teeth. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this.”
“This is all I’ve been wanting,” he says, and she can feel something wet against her neck. “You even taste like I imagine... delectable.” She gags as she feels his mouth close around her neck, kissing her. “Fuck, I’ve dreamt about this moment, what you feel like, if you’re a screamer, all of it. I bet you like it rough, don’t you?”
“You have no idea,” she says, grabbing the stapler firmly. “Do you like it rough, Matt?”
“You know I do, baby,” he says, nipping at her neck.
“Let me face you then,” she breathes out, trying her best to sound into it. “I like it better when I can see it happening.”
“Oh, you dirty girl,” he whispers into her ear. “It will be my pleasure.”
As soon as his she feels the gun leave her shoulder she spins around and swings her hand as hard as she can, feeling the stapler connect clean in his temple. There’s a loud thwap and Matt falters, throwing his hands up to his head and yelling in pain. Allison doesn’t waste a second, she swings again and hits Matt on the top of his head; he crumples down to the floor.
“You motherfucker,” she shouts, swinging down one more time onto his face. There’s a loud pop and blood pours out of his nose. “How fucking dare you think you can have me!” Her voice cracks and she starts to cry, dropping the stapler on the floor. “How dare you,” she chokes out.
Allison catches her breath and wipes her tears away, backing up into the door. She reaches around and twists the door knob, only it doesn’t turn. It’s locked.
“No,” she gasps, trying to turn the doorknob again. Nothing. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening.” Her breathing is getting more and more frantic as she starts to slam her body against the door. “Help! Someone please help me! Help!”