| ONE: Lingering Gazes ✓

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CHAPTER ONE;

        LINGERING GAZES


       "Are you freaking kidding me?" The teenage girl angrily mumbled as she stormed out of the driver's seat and towards the hood of the car. One minute, she was smoothly driving down the roadway of the Beacon Hills preserve and the next, smoke was lambasting from the engine, before the entire vehicle sputtered and stopped. Her first day in the sunny state of California and already shit was not going her way.

       Not only was it her first day in Beacon Hills, but the beginning of living on her own. One month had passed since her parent's 'unfortunate' (that was the very stand-out word used in her local newspapers) ending. All of her immediate relatives had already past years ago so really her options were limited. The former leader of pack that traveled across the New England province had some connections and managed to loan her a heavy amount of money for her new life. He had forged the parents, helped her enroll in a local school and registered as her legal guardian. Obviously, he wasn't and never would be, but his help was definitely appreciated.

       It was late at night, the sky dawning from a navy blue into a deep black. Crickets, somewhere in the distance, were chirping and gave her something to listen to instead of the thick silence. "God damn you." She said through clenched teeth, opening the car's hood and was greeted by a huge gust of white smog. Mechanics was nowhere near her forte, but she did take pride in keeping her car healthy and fully functioning. The Merlot Chevy Impala that was originally her father's, who possessed a strong obsession with both old and new cars.

       Regrettably, the knowledge wasn't passed down by generation and Clara wasn't prepared to fix whatever the hell was wrong with her. All of her stuff, the ones that she was able to keep, took up all the space in the backseats and the trunk. In retrospective, keeping her tool box might have been a smarter decision. She was knee-deep in the forest and didn't know the area, or Beacon Hills for that matter, to know where a mechanic garage was at. All she wanted to do was fix this mess, get to the motel, and sleep away the anxiety she had about coming to this new town.

       "Why do you have to do this to me?" She whispered to herself while positioning the clamp to keep the hood wide open.

       Clara heard him before he saw him. The loud yet cautious footsteps that continuously grew closer, the thick stench of another individual, particularly a male's. "Need some help?"

       Cautious, yet not startled by his sudden interjection, she whipped around to face the stranger from behind. Like she had sensed before, the person was a man that was a few years old than her with straight back hair, a faint scruff, and wearing all black, from the leather jacket to the battered shoes on his feet.

       "Is there something I can help you with?" She coldly questioned, raising one of her brows.

       The mysterious man rose his arms in defense, trying to show he offered no harm and only help. Although he showed no pretensions of wanting to hurt her or possessed any visible weapons on him, Clara still remained a cautious distance, her eyes running up-and-down his figure. She was more or less aware of how things were since the passing of her parents, how she was in particular. Paranoid, delusional, cold, always questioning everyone and everything. Perhaps she liked it that way ― kept people at a distance, that was sure.

       "I saw that your car broke down, just wanted to see if you needed some help." He explained innocently, but a smirk cheekily played on his lips.

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