Brother || Teen Wolf

Chapter 37 - The Remorseful Past of Adrian Harris

Adrian Harris was a hardworking man. Ever since he was a child, there was only one thing he believed in, and it was that if you want something in life, you have to work for it. No one will give it to you, and if you take it without deserving it, you'll pay for it eventually. All in all, his philosophy was simple: people get what they deserve, and what they deserve is up to them.

This belief had always followed him, and throughout his life, he had witnessed multiple times when it had been proven true. It had led him on a certain path, one that he was still following as of that late evening, alone in his office and grading his student's assignments. He wished his students well, hoping nothing but for them to lead a successful life, but just like Coach, he was bad at showing it. He didn't particularly appreciate having something in common with Mr. Finstock, who he found most unpleasant, but he couldn't deny they shared an obvious lack of ability to properly communicate with teenagers. Of course, in his head, the problem mostly found its source in the teenagers themselves, who were too immature to see he was simply guiding them on the right path.

He didn't deny anyone the right to make mistakes -- he had done a few himself -- but it was repeatedly making the same mistakes, over and over again, that truly got him out of his mind. Some of his students seemed set on failing and he could see no way of helping them out of this vicious circle. Whenever he tried something, it was seen as a punishment instead of as a way to reflect on what went wrong and not let it happen again. After a few years of teaching, he had learnt better but to try too hard with certain students, who were simply beyond hopeless. He gave them detentions instead, threatening to tell their parents if they kept on disrupting his class. Mr. Harris had slowly morphed into an unforgiving, cold individual, whose students feared him more than they respected him. Sometimes, he wondered if would have liked having himself as a teacher, back when he was a teenager himself. The more the years went by, the less he was certain of the answer.

No matter how strongly he believed what he did was right, even Adrian Harris himself couldn't escape the clutches of doubt and he sometimes fell prey to terrible fits of anxiety, questioning everything he believed in, every single action he had ever taken and that had eventually led him to where he stood. Those episodes were particularly trying, and after a while he found a way to lessen their intensity. That answer laid at the bottom of a bottle, in a dusty bar on the outskirts of town, where he had little chance of bumping into someone he knew. However, he had not been seen there for many years, ever since a night when the anxiety had struck in a particularly harsh manner and had chased him away from his home and to the small bar, his hands shaking and his mouth longing for the golden liquor that would ease his nerves.

Adrian shuddered at the old memory, and at the thought of what he had done that day. He had been in a constant state of agitation since that night, a small part of his brain solely dedicated to watching out for the consequences of his actions. He knew they would come his way eventually, because as he himself kept repeating, you only get what you deserve. And he deserved to pay for what he had done when the time came. An ominous sense of urgency washed over the teacher, who could feel he was being watched. That was it, he thought. Finally, after all these years, it was time. From the corner of his eye, he saw an imposing silhouette come his way, walking slowly enough for him to fully understand the situation he was in. No matter how prepared he had thought he was, fear invaded him and his chest tightened in anticipation.

"Please don't kill me," he told the silhouette in a shaky voice.

The silhouette didn't answer and kept getting closer, stepping into the light cast by the moon outside the windows. Me. Harris found himself staring at a face that was barely human, not because of its traits, but because of the primal rage that they conveyed. The mysterious figure took something from his pocket. It was a list of names and one of them was circled: his.

"Do you know who wrote this list?" the man asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"Laura... Laura Hale," Adrian gasped, his heartbeat rising and panic flooding his veins. This man was here for revenge and Adrian doubted he would survive this encounter.

"Do you know why she was looking for you?" the man asked, anger building up in his tone. "I know why. Look at me, Adrian. Look at me and I'll show you. Look at me!"

A hand grasped the teachers neck, forcing him to lay eyes on the scarred face of someone who should have died a long time ago. Someone who should have died by his fault.

"No. Please," Adrian begged, tears forming behind his glasses.

The other man raised his arm up in the air, ready to strike. Adrian tried to steel himself for the blow, his entire body screaming him to run. When the scarred man finally hit him, Adrian was almost relieved. He had deserved it. This was the last thought in his mind before the world turned black, the pain fading away along with his consciousness.

A cold sensation on his cheek was what stirred him awake, more than the hands shaking him. He blinked a few times, wondering if he was still alive and if so, how it was possible. He recognized the silhouette above him as the Sheriff, and understood he was still amongst the living. Adrian put a hand to his cheek, wondering why it felt so cold. His fingers turned red, stained by the same blood that dripped from a wound on his cheek. The Sheriff helped him up to his chair, making sure he was not in a state of too much shock. He gave him a cloth to press on his cheek, so that he did not bleed on the papers he was grading. Noah Stilinski was at loss for words, seeing the chemistry teacher in a state of distress that was completely out of character, teary eyed and overall miserable. The teacher seemed ready to talk, to finally get rid of a secret too heavy for him to bear alone. When Noah asked him what happened, he told him much more than that.

"It was six years ago, and in my defense, it was before I'd gotten sober," the man started his explanation, eyes cast down in shame. "I met her at a bar. We had a lot of drinks. A lot. She started asking me what I do, and she kept asking questions. Do you have any idea what that's like?" the teacher's head shot up, a sudden spark in his eyes, "To have someone actually interested in the topic of chemistry, after staring at all these vacant faces day after day... So I talked. It was fascinating stuff, truly. How you could melt away the lock of a bank vault. How you could dissolve a body, and get away with murder. How could you start a fire, and..."

"And get away with arson?" Noah added, already putting the pieces together.

"And a week later, the Hale house burns down," Adrian continues, his voice just above a whisper.

"You know, you could have said something," the Sheriff scolded him, making one of the teacher's fears come true and fully grasping the gravity of the man's confession.

"I was too afraid to become an accomplice. It would have ended my teaching career," Adrian answered lamely.

"That woman, do you know her name or where she was from?"

"No," Adrian replied, "Which is exactly what Laura Hale asked. I'll point you in the same direction that I pointed her."

The teacher grabbed a piece of paper from his desk, a pen, and started drawing under the gaze of the Sheriff, who had gotten so much more information that he could have hoped for. Maybe he could finally solve the case of the Hale fire, in the end.

"What is this?" Noah asked once Mr. Harris was done drawing.

"The necklace the girl was wearing. That's the symbol on it. I asked her about it and she said it was a family thing. You find the girl wearing that necklace, she's your arsonist," Adrian concluded.

"Murderer," the Sheriff corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"Arson happens to property. This girl's a murderer."

Noah left the building, the mysterious drawing in hand. He thanked the newly appointed janitor for calling the police when he saw someone break into the school. He had probably saved Adrian Harris' life, and helped find clues to close a case almost a decade old. Whether Mr. Harris was worth saving or not was a question Noah didn't ask, mostly because he was humble enough not to judge a man when he knew it was not his place to do so. He went back to the precinct and put the drawing on his desk, right next to his notes on the Hale fire.

Little did he know deft hands would soon relieve him from it.