Brother || Teen Wolf

Chapter 50 - Think or Do

Jackson was taking a swig of his flask of illegally obtained vodka, hidden away from Coach's suspecting eyes, when his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, signaling an incoming text. Looking at who had sent the text, he knitted his eyebrows in confusion, contemplating whether or not he should read it. What could Stiles possibly want from him?

Curiosity got the better of Jackson. His frown deepened once he read the short text, as he was unsure what to think.

"Help. Lydia and Jamie. Lacrosse Field. NOW."

Even to Jackson, that did not sound like Stiles at all. He and the spastic boys were certainly not friends -- more like acquaintances who begrudgingly acknowledged each other's presence -- but Jackson could immediately tell that something was very wrong. This dreadful feeling, accompanied by the knowledge of everything deadly Beacon Hills was swarmed with, got Jackson to listen to Stiles and for once in his life, actually do as he was told.

He was quick to shove the half-empty flask of vodka in someone else's hands, not sparing them a glance, before he marched over to the closest exit. To his luck, it was also the one closest to the Lacrosse field. There was purpose in his step as he pushed aside whoever was standing in his way but when he reached the door, he had to take a moment to breathe. He had seen and heard enough of the atrocities left in the wake of Beacon Hills monsters to be wary of what was to come.

Jackson's heart was beating harder than in the most tense of Lacrosse games as he placed his hands against the door, forcing his arms to push it open. When he finally laid eyes on the scene before him, taking a few steps and letting the door close, he was overcome by a feeling of unease. It took him a few seconds to realize where it came from: he was expecting to be greeted by the dark night, when in reality, the Lacrosse field was nothing but dark.

Jackson shook his head in a feeble attempt at making his discomfort go away. He swallowed, the action made difficult by how parched his throat was, and walked towards the field. Soon, his anxiousness was replaced by the strong sense of annoyance Stiles' presence usually brought him, only this time, it was the boy's absence that was having this effect. Jackson left a party willing to help and yet Stiles was nowhere in sight. In fact, no one was in sight.

Was this all a very elaborate, stupid prank?

His anger now close to boiling, Jackson checked the text once more. His mood deteriorated even more when he saw Lydia's name on the screen. That Stiles and Jamie would go to such lengths to make of fool of him was no surprise, but Lydia? He was disappointed she sank to their level. Of course, that was doomed to happen with how much she hung out with these tools. Jamie's personality had ended up degrading hers, Jackson thought.

But maybe, just maybe, Lydia really did need his help. Maybe then, she would finally see him for who he truly was, and then she'd forget all about Jamie and be with him instead. This tiny hope was enough for Jackson to take a few more steps towards the illuminated field. The sense of relief he felt when he noticed a dark shape in the middle of the field, proving no one was mocking him, was very short-lived.

Suddenly, Jackson felt terribly cold. He couldn't look away from the shape on the ground as Stiles' words played again in his head, and he soon found himself praying that this dark shape wasn't Lydia, lying on the ground. It was as if he was in a trance, now sprinting towards the center of the field. As Jackson got closer, it grew impossible to deny that what had seemed like an ill-defined shape was exactly what he dreaded.

That night, as Jackson recognized Jamie's face, eerily pale and unmoving, he understood that there is a vast difference between regularly wishing someone was dead, and actually witnessing their death happen. And when he saw Lydia, lying there equally pale, it was as if he had forgotten everything he had ever known.