5

                                    

                                          
Void
"Remember to watch Garret." 
"What?" I turn to face Scott, he is standing beside me pulling a white shirt on. The bike accident is long behind us, the girl had been taken to the hospital by ambulance a few hours ago. Paramedics said she should be okay, thanks to me. Her passing out might have saved her life. 
Which was honestly a bit disappointing to hear. 
"Oh, yeah. I will." I lie. I don't plan on watching the boy he thinks will try to kill either him, Liam or Kira. If they die on the field tonight, that's one less teenager I will have to kill later. 
"You ready?" He asks, I nod, which is another lie. I have never played a game of lacrosse in my life. My very long, over a thousand years of life. Why is that?  I do not know. But Stiles had sucked at the sport, so I should be fine. Maybe, hopefully, I will suck a little less. 
"Do you think Liam should play?" Scott asks. I slide my shoulder pads over my head and push my hair out of my eyes. 
"Not really. The kid is literally a walking time bomb, I think he should sit this one out." I answer, recalling what Stiles had said before about Liam having an I.E.D. Though, I do think that it would be quite entertaining if he exploded during the game, it would work in my favor. But it would also be suspicious if Stiles changed his mind about the situation right before the game started. That could give Scott a reason to doubt my acting skills. 
Time seems to have flown by, now it is mere minutes before the game starts, both teams are huddled by their benches, setting a plan.
"Alright cupcakes." Coach rubs his hands together eagerly, opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it with a defeated sigh. "Don't die." He smiles and pats the nearest boy on the shoulder. "If you die that would be a lot of paperwork for me, and I don't feel like spending my night writing. So," he glances around, "if you see a ten foot defender running at you, play dead. Don't run the other way, don't scream and charge, just drop to the ground. Think of it as a bear. Got it?" He straightens, looking pleased with himself. 
The team disburses, some players spreading out onto the field, and some sitting down on the bench. I am one of the ones on the bench. I scan the field, looking for an opportunity, and out of pure mistake, I see something that should have shocked Stiles. There is a player, a tall, brown haired boy on the other team. From what I can find in Stiles' memories, his name is Brett. He steps onto the field, jogging to his position. I can smell him from here, the musty stench of wet dog. 
He's a werewolf, like Scott. 
This game just got a whole lot more interesting. 
"Dumbar, get out there!" I hear Coach call out. 
"It's Dunbar, Coach..." Liam stands up from the bench, looking a little unsure. 
"Whatever, just get on the field." 
I glance over at Scott, he hesitates but he doesn't leave his position as Liam runs onto the grass. The whistle blows, starting the game. I find myself watching Brett, who Scott has no idea is one of them. His moves are too fast, his hits a little too strong. I don't know how they haven't noticed him yet. 
By the end of the second period, we're losing. I could care less, nothing interesting has really happened yet. But then, with barely four minutes left in the period, I see Garret. The kid I was supposed to be watching. He takes a step forward, smack dab in Brett's path. Not far behind is Liam, running towards Brett with a burning anger in his eyes. In a mater of seconds, both Garret and Brett collide, taking Liam down with them. Brett rolls onto his back, howling in pain. I watch in awe as Garret gets up, a smug smirk on his face as he meets Liam's shocked gaze. 
I like this kid. 
I have to cover my own smile with my hand as soon as I see the long blade retract back into Garret's lacrosse stick. 
I glance over a Coach, he also has his hand over his mouth, muttering something that I don't bother listening to. The stands have gone quiet, watching as Brett is carried off the field and towards the school. I stand, grabbing a random water bottle from the bench and I start making my way into the school. 
I stop when I enter the dark hallway, looking down both corridors slowly. I turn back to the right, pausing a brief second before heading towards the boys locker rooms. I pull my shoulder pads off, dropping them on the floor. My footsteps are heavy on the tile floor, echoing throughout the halls as I walk. I don't care if he hears me. He wouldn't be able to do anything anyways.
 I find the door to the locker room open just a crack, the lights turned off and the room dim. "Brett." I call out, pushing the door open wider. My shape casts an eerie shadow across the room. I can smell him, not that I want to. Wet dogs don't smell nice, nor do werewolves. "I know you're in here." I say, walking carelessly into the room. I drum my fingers over the wall, tapping the bricks as I move towards his heartbeat, following the frantic, uneven thumps towards the showers. My grin widens when I hear a second pulse emurge from the silence. 
A girl.
With that in mind, I slowly round a corner. And I see him, lying belly down on the floor. His eyes shoot open, widening as he stares at me. I crouch down beside him, letting a smile pull at my lips. "You know," I sigh, clasping my hands together and inhaling steadily, "I liked you, Brett. I really did?" I look down at his leg, seeing the fresh blood through his clothes. Wolfsbane poisoning. I grin. "You're a bully, you pick on kids weaker than yourself. And I admire that, truly, I do." I say, my voice becoming harsh, deeper. 
No longer Stiles' happy, sarcastic tone.
 Watching Brett's eyes widen, I continue, "I mean, let's be honest Brett. I'm going to kill you. I don't want to, but it has to be done. You're weak, young." I study his face, relishing in the fear plastered on it. I frown. "You mortals have such fragile minds..." I mutter in disgust. "Don't you?" I ask, but the question isn't directed at Brett. 
The werewolf blinks, unable to speak as the poison seeps further through his bloodstream.  I raise my head. "Didn't your parents ever teach you that it's rude to ignore people?" I call, addressing the second person in the room. I hear the quick shuffle of shoes, and I know that whoever she is, she is coming up behind me. I stand, brushing a piece of lint from my shoulder, turning my head to see her. "Oh, I'm sorry." I lie, mildly disappointed. "I stand mistaken." Her brows narrow. "You couldn't know, you're parents are dead."
She swallows, her breathing catching in surprise. 
"Well." I nod. "That's extremely depressing. Anyways, I'm going to kill you now, okay?"
I give her a smile, and as soon as I do, she wraps something around my throat. I hold up my hand, gabbing the thin wire as it starts to heat up. I pull it away from my neck, giving myself room to talk. "Now hear me out." I say. "You won't get any of your prize money for killing me." I tell her calmly, she looks up, shocked. Her brown hair falls over her face, leaving her dark, confused eyes covered. It suddenly occurs to me that I am supposed to be human, that I should not be able to withstand this flesh cutting contraption of hers, that I, weak, defenseless Stiles, shouldn't have the power to survive this.
That's wrong of course. 
This girl will be dead before her screams leave her throat. 
I wrap my fingers around the wire, pulling it above my head. She stumbles back, still staring at me with wide eyes. "How-" she starts, but never gets to finish the sentence. I step forward, not giving her any time to react. I cup her face in my hands, watching in satisfaction as her face retorts back to fear. And I twist, snapping her neck. She crumples to the ground, her gaze lands on me as she lay, paralyzed. I kneel, brushing a strand of dark hair from over her eye, tucking it gently behind her ear. 
I give her a sad smile. "Sorry about that." I whisper, taking my thumb and wiping the blood running off her bottom lip. "But I can't have anyone knowing I'm not really Stiles."