Seventeen

                                    

                                          
Stiles' POV
                          
I struggled with Donovan in the school parking lot. I managed to get away by head butting him and hitting him with my wrench. Without looking back, I rushed into the school.
                          
I held my student ID up to access the library keycard reader and the doors unlocked. I rushed in and heard the doors once again. I immediately hid among the rows of books.
                          
My phone buzzed and Donovan picked it up. "You dropped your phone. It's Malia. Should I text her back? You don't really know who I am, do you, Stiles? Maybe you heard about my father. Did your dad tell you about him? Did Sheriff Stilinski ever tell you about the time he was still deputy and how his partner got caught in a shoot-out? Did he tell you a bullet shattered my dad's T-9 vertebra? Went right through his spinal cord. Know what that means? It means everything below his waist is useless. And not just his legs. I bet he told you some of it. But I bet he probably left out the part where he was sitting in a car calling for backup while my dad was going in there alone. Did he tell you he was too scared, too much of a frightened little bitch to go in after him? Or do scared little bitches not tell their little bitch sons about their failures? About how they put their partner in a wheelchair for the rest of his life?"
                          
Donovan appeared near me and grabbed my throat, pulling me from the bookshelves. I struggled to get away from him and we stumbled over to a bunch of scaffolding repairmen were using to do some construction. I saw his eyes flash white. "Don't worry, Stiles. I'm not gonna kill you... I'm just gonna eat your legs. Ah!"
                          
I glanced up to see a pin with a ring. It appeared to be holding up part of the structure, and I reached for it. I managed to grab it and pulled it out, releasing several metal bars onto Donovan, causing him to fall backwards and impale onto one of the bars.
                          
I walked over to him and tried to pull the bar from his chest, but stopped. He gasped for air and began coughing and stopped breathing. I saw silver liquid flowing from his wound.
                          
I dialed 911, but didn't say anything and instead, hung up the phone. I glanced again at Donovan's body and grabbed a book to prop the door open. I heard a buzzing and realized that it was my phone. I pulled it from his pocket to see Malia was calling. I rejected the call before running out the door.
                          
I rushed out to my Jeep and started it, then sat in silence as I figured out what to do next. I heard sirens, so I turned off the headlights and backed into a darkened corning of the parking lot just as my dad's patrol truck pulled into the lot. I watched a deputy enter the school. I glanced down at my hands to see that they were still covered in Donovan's blood. They started shaking, and I couldn't stop them. If only Ally were here. Oh, God, Ally, please be able to leave the hospital soon. 
                          
After awhile, the deputy left and said something in his radio. I immediately turned on my scanner to hear the officer say, "I'm 10-97 and there's no one here. It's a 653."
                          
"Roger that. It's a prank call. Return to your patrol."
                          
After the officer drove off, I re-entered the school and found nothing in the library. Donovan's body was gone and there was no sign of our struggle earlier. I touched one of the beams and pulled my hand away to find blood.
                          
I drove home and immediately headed to my murder board. I began writing things down. "Donovan not dead. Walked out." "Donovan Dead." "Someone took the body." 
                          
I felt my lower lip quivering as I erased the words I'd just written. I threw the eraser at the board and rubbed my shoulder where Donovan's hand bit me.
                          
My phone began vibrating and I saw that it was my best friend. "Scott?"
                          
"Stiles, someone's taking the bodies." I didn't answer for a good, long moment. "Stiles? You there?"