chapter eighty-two
memory lost

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

"This is a horrible idea."

Kennedy frowned as she watched two figures walking away from her. They were walking into Lydia's old house, which she's moved from. She lived there until sometime junior year. It was a party, specifically the party Lydia threw the night Scott found out he was a werewolf. Kennedy was even more confused when she realized one of the figures was herself. But who as the other person?

Deciding to follow, Kennedy trailed after her past self and the other person, never able to catch his face in time. She listened to him talk, "It's not horrible as long as we stay on task." He explained to the sixteen-year-old. Young Kennedy Stallard rolled her eyes, turning to look at him. Kennedy tilted her head in confusion, watching her younger self talk.

"Then dance with me."

The boy practically choked on his own breath as he looked at her. "What?" He was nervous. Kennedy could sense it as she stood right behind him.

Young Kennedy shrugged her shoulders, "I dressed nice tonight, might as well get someone to dance with me," She plainly explained. Kennedy watched as her younger self grabbed the mystery boys hand, pulling him towards the crowd. Kennedy walked town the steps slowly, watching as the boy moves to turn towards her. Finally, she thought, she'd be able to see his face. But just as his shoulder turned and the side of his face was coming into view-

"Kennedy!"

The auburn-haired girl shot out of her slumber, her eyes wide as she felt arms wrap around her torso. Scott McCall laughed as the girl looked around in confusion. "Did I startle you?"

"I think I had a heart attack," Kennedy mumbled as she looked around her room. Scott was already dressed for the day, he must have drove over to take her to school. She also must have slept in. Her mind felt scattered, like it wasn't all there. She blinked multiple times as she looked over at him. "What time is it?"

Scott watched as Kennedy pulled away from him, "6:30, don't worry I made sure you wouldn't sleep in too long," He said with a smile. Kennedy stood up from her bed, walking across the floor to the closet.

She slings it open, looking around in confusion. She reached for a red velvet jacket, turning towards Scott. "Do you remember your first full moon? Lydia's party?"

"Yeah, why?"

Kennedy pursed her lips, turning back to the closet as she put the jacket back. She shuffled through, thinking about what to wear today. "I just had a weird dream about it, that's all," She whispered as she looked at a particular dress hanging on the rack.

The dress she wore the day after Scott was bit.

༺❀༻

༺❀༻

Danielle Tyler stared at Kennedy Stallard. She watched the girl with dyed auburn hair flip through a textbook. "You reek," The werecoyote blankly stated.

Kennedy looked up, "Gee, thanks,"

"I mean you smell like anxiety." Dani followed, leaning over the table and closing Kennedy's textbook. The Stallard sighed, glancing up towards the pink-haired girl. "What's wrong?"

Kennedy looked around. They were sitting outside at one of the tables like they usually did. It was their free period. She looked to her side, feeling like she was missing something. "Do you think seers can sense when something is missing?"

Dani rose a suspicious brow. "Something? Or someone?" She asked.

"Both?"

Danielle bit her tongue as she tried to think. She was still relatively new to the pack, but she was close with Kennedy and felt like she was able to be honest with her opinions. "Seers have a sense of clairvoyance, right? So yeah, there's a chance." She pursed her lips as she turned to her bag. "There's something else," Kennedy frowned as she watched her friend dig through her backpack, pulling out a notebook. "When you had your vision the other night, I put this and a pen in front of you, in case you wrote anything." She explained.

Kennedy looked at it, "And did I?" Danielle didn't answer. She opened up her notebook, her fingers skimming through the pages before she landed on one. Placing the notebook on the table, she turned it towards Kennedy, sliding it across the surface. Kennedy leaned over, looking at it. "What is this?"

It was a drawing of someone. Kennedy was never an artist. Her extent was stick figures and flowers. But this? This was far more detailed. The person had no eyes. They were scratched out. So honestly, it was an eery thing to look at. It was a boy with messy dark hair, and a sharp jawline with a slight shadow where some facial hair was growing. He had thin lips and birth marks on both sides of his face. He was familiar. Kennedy frowned as she moved to touch the photo.

It reminded her of a time, shortly after Scott was bit. There was a drawing of a wolf in her notebook that had appeared. When she looked away and looked back, it was gone. But this, this wouldn't go away.

"Kennedy," The Stallard looked up, her eyes wide as she looked at Danielle. The girl with pink hair pursed her lips as she tilted her head. "Are you okay?"

"Kennedy!"

The girl whipped her head around at the sound of a voice. That voice. She knew that voice. She stood up, leaving her things behind. She recognized that voice and she knew that voice. The urgency flooding her body caused her to break into a sprint. Her legs carried her as she ran. She ran around a corner, and suddenly everything was different.

It was nighttime. It was the other night again. She was back in her light pink floral dress and tan boots. She looked around, watching the wind blow leaves through.

"You know me. Oh, thank God. You know me."

The girl looked around. Nobody was there. Why was nobody there?

"Hey, do you see him?"

Leaves spun around her and her hair was in her face. She didn't remember this happening. It didn't happen, did it? Well, it must have. She wouldn't make this up. She wouldn't feel this way if it wasn't real. She turned as she felt something on her face. It was as if someone she couldn't see was holding her face in their hands.

"Come on!"

Kennedy felt as if someone had grabbed her hand, tugging her away. She ran down the side walk. She felt sick. Her head was spinning as she looked around. She came to a stop.

"Where are they?" Kennedy yelled as the wind was louder, pushing against her body like waves in the ocean.

"Everywhere!" The Stallard whimpered as she tried to remember. Her head was pounding. It felt as if someone was pulling her brain apart and trying to sew it back together, but the pieces didn't fit. She breathed heavily as she looked around. "You're gonna forget me."

Shaking her head, the auburn girl cried. "I won't!" She shouted as she stepped forwards.

"Kennedy!"

Malia Tate pulled her friend back as a car sped by. Kennedy gasped as she realized she nearly got ran over. Lydia and Dani ran over as the auburn-haired girl panted. "Oh, my god, Kennedy," Danielle whispered as they walked over. Lydia looked at her knowingly, as if she had just seen something herself.

Kennedy swallowed the lump in her throat, "I'm fine," She whispered.

"What were you doing?" Malia asked.

Lydia watched Kennedy flinch nervously. "She was trying to remember," Everyone looked at Lydia, whose eyes still remained on Kennedy. "We both were."

༺❀༻

Kennedy's back pushed against the wall. Scott's lips trailed down her neck as the two hid inside a janitor's closet. "Stressful day?" Kennedy whispered in between breaths as her hands ran down Scott's back.

"Weird day, actually," Scott said as he kissed her again. His lips were soft, and his hands ran over her like they always had. But why did it feel weird? Wrong, even.

"Me too," Kennedy said under her breath. "I keep having these weird visions, or memories."

Scott pulled away from Kennedy, looking down at her. "Are we going to talk about that instead of doing this?" He asked. Kennedy nervously bit her lip, and the two pulled away from each other completely. "Okay, so you're having memories, but of what?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm trying to figure out," Kennedy explained, "I don't want to say much until I know more, but there is definitely something going on." The girl crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall.

Her boyfriend clenched his jaw, nodding. "There's a locker. I walked past it today and," Scott trailed off as he shook his head. "I don't know, it didn't feel right."

Kennedy smiled sweetly as she leaned forwards. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, McCall?" She said in a hushed voice. Scott mischievously grinned at her.

"Lead the way, my favorite detective,"

The janitor door swung open, the auburn-haired girl poking her head out. She slipped out the door, letting Scott follow her. Scott noticed Kennedy walked right down the hall, not even asking him where the locker was. There was no way she knew where it was, right? However, Scott watched as Kennedy walked right up to locker 1075. She looked towards him, her hair spilling over her shoulders. Scott turned on the flashlight on his phone, trying his best to see inside of it.

"How did you know this was it?" Scott asked his girlfriend, looking back at her questioningly.

Kennedy frowned, "You didn't tell me?" Scott shook his head slowly, turning back to the locker. The Stallard frowned, looking down in thought. She couldn't help but feel like something was off with her entire life. But what could that even mean?

Scott sighed, pulling away from the locker and shoving his phone in his pocket. "Plan B?" He asked. Kennedy nodded, watching as the boy grabbed hold of the lock.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Kennedy spun around, eyes wide to see the new teacher, Mr. Douglas. He was a sight for sore eyes, that was for sure. Kennedy looked him up and down as she sucked in a heavy breath. She looked over at Scott, who sent her a questioning look. "Uh, nothing. Just checking out this locker." Scott deadpanned, looking back at Mr. Douglas.

The teacher leaned closer, "Is it yours?" He inquired. Kennedy stayed silent, observing the teacher once more. Perhaps it was that he was insanely attractive, or perhaps her seer side was picking up something about him. All that she knew was that Mr. Douglas wasn't any normal science teacher.

"Not really." Scott mumbled.

Mr. Douglas looked at Kennedy with a look that sent shivers down her spine. "I'm relatively new here, but I'm pretty sure breakin' into someone else's locker is against the rules." Every step the teacher took towards both Scott and Kennedy, the girls heart thudded against her chest. Faster, faster, and faster.

Scott nervously chuckled, gesturing to the blue lock. "I'm not breaking into someone else's locker." He informed Mr. Douglas.

"What does it look like to you?"

Kennedy felt like her head was spinning. Every time she looked at Mr. Douglas her throat ran dry and her stomach sunk. "It looks like I'm breaking into someone else's locker." Scott replied, both he and the teacher chuckling. Kennedy felt Scott link their fingers together, "Yeah, uh, I think we'll go to class now."

"Yeah, probably a good idea." Hummed the teacher. Scott pulled Kennedy along. The girl took one glance back at Mr. Douglas, and he had an attractive smirk on his face as he looked at her. She couldn't shake it off. Something about him caused her to react in a way that wasn't normal. She just didn't know what it was.

༺❀༻

Amanda Stallard sat down at the dinner table with her husband and daughter. Kennedy ate her food quietly, looking between them both. "I couldn't believe it. Mason and Corey are convinced something is wrong," Ben raved about the two sophomores that came to the sheriff's station, asking him and Jordan Parrish questions. "Someone being missing, apparently,"

Kennedy turned her head, frowning. Across the room, where she could see into the living room, was a younger Kennedy. She was perhaps nine or ten. She was covered in soot, blood, bruises, and tears. The Stallard girl frowned, not moving from her spot as whatever her parents were talking about faded out of her thoughts.

"Momma's dead," The little girl said quietly. Kennedy frowned. She never called her mom Momma. It was just Mom. "And Daddy. He's hurt."

Kennedy didn't call Ben that either.

The teenage girl waved her hand. Young Kennedy took steps closer. Kennedy leaned over. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Kennedy frowned as she looked at her younger self. "Don't you remember the fire?"

"Kennedy," The Stallard girl shot up straight in her chair, looking around. Ben had smacked the table, looking at his daughter in confusion. "Are you alright?"

Looking around, Kennedy cleared her throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She whispered, sinking into her chair. She looked between her parents as they continued eating. But something was inside of her, telling her this was wrong. She looked at Amanda Stallard for a long moment, trying to find at her first memory of her mom. Why couldn't she remember?

That night, Kennedy slipped into bed after doing homework. She let her yellow throw blanket wrap around her tightly as she tried to push out any and all thoughts. Sleeping helped all the time, didn't it? Maybe tomorrow she'd feel all better and everything would start falling back into its usual places.

But life doesn't work like that for Kennedy Stallard.

The girl's hazel eyes opened up in an unfamiliar bedroom. She looked over, she was standing by a bed in the corner, and she could see the back of the same person with a buzzcut. She could also see herself. Kennedy remembered this night. Jackson died. The lacrosse game. This was right before they stopped Gerard and Kennedy had gotten a text.

"No way, he could kill you." The boy's voice was filled with concern. Kennedy frowned.

Sixteen-year-old Kennedy scoffed. "I don't care," She said sternly, walking towards the door.

"See, that's the problem," The boy blurted out. Present-day Kennedy looked at her younger selfs confused expression. "You don't care about getting hurt. But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated." Young Kennedy sucks in a breath, and her future self feels her stomach flip. She remembered this conversation. This wasn't with Scott, no he was with Derek. This was someone else. Someone else Kennedy cared about. "And if you die, I will literally go out of my freakin' mind." Young Kennedy pursed her lips together as the boy spoke. Kennedy took a step forward, wanting to see who was talking. "You see, death doesn't happen to you, Kennedy. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it?" The brunette girl looks down. "And look at my face." Yooung Kennedy stares at the boy, studying his face. "Come on, you actually think this was meant to hurt me?"

Kennedy stopped, watching her younger self look down, then back up towards the boy's eyes. "That was unnecessary." She whispered.

The boy pauses. The older Kennedy looked at the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah it was." He replies in realization. Kennedy felt goosebumps as she watched. "Would this be too?" He asked her, stepping closer.

"Maybe." Younger Kennedy's heart beats faster as she looked up at him. She said something, but Kennedy couldn't hear it. It was like it had been muffled by her memory.

"You know when you asked me if I believed in soulmates?" He cut her off. Young Kennedy looked at him, nodding. The older Kennedy tilted her head. "I think I do now." His hands raised to her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. Older Kennedy took steps forwards, moving to see his face. "And I think I'm looking at mine."

Young Kennedy smiled softly, the moment settling in. She leaned forwards, her lips connecting with the boys. The older Kennedy finally reached to see the side of the boy's face. It was the boy from the drawing. She couldn't tell much about him other than the constellations of birthmarks on his face. She watched as her younger self wrapped her arms around his neck as she embraced the one thing she'd been hiding from this entire time.

Loving him.

Kennedy shot out of bed, breathing heavily as she looked around. Her phone was blowing up, a lot. It was Scott.

The auburn-haired girl rushed to put on clothes, not bothering to look at what she grabbed as she ran out the door towards her car. Ben and Amanda were long asleep, and probably wouldn't notice her gone.

Her fingers nervously tapped on the steering wheel as she drove. Something was eating at her mind. But what was it? What was she missing that she was trying to remember? The boy in the memories. Just the thought of him caused her to feel funny. Not in the way Scott made her feel. No this was different. This was cloud nine. She knew the truth, as much as she hated to admit it. She knew deep down that something was not right about her and Scott McCall.

She climbed out of her car, seeing Malia and Lydia climbing out of the blue Toyota as Danielle climbed off of her motorcycle. Scott came trotting over. They were at the Beacon Hills preserve. "I went to bed at home and I woke up out in the woods. About a mile out." He told the four girls. "I think there's a reason why this has happened. I've been out here before." Scott handed Lydia a flashlight as he lead the way. Kennedy had her own flashlight, following close behind. "It was the beginning of sophomore year the night before tryouts for First Line. I remember because it was all that I could think about."

"What were you doing?" Asked Malia, holding her own flashlight.

"I was looking for a dead body."

Lydia sheepishly glanced around the woods. "That's morbid." She mumbled.

"So then, what was I doing out here all alone?"

"I wish I could help you, but I didn't know you then," Lydia recalled, Danielle nodding in agreement.

"I was still a coyote so I might've tried to eat it." Malia commented. Lydia looked at Kennedy, who remained silent.

"Deaton said that my subconscious is trying to tell me something." Scott explained as they walked. "But I need you guys to help me figure out what it's saying."

Lydia tried to think reasonably. "Maybe you were just a curious teenager. You heard there was a body."

"But how? I never watched the news. And I didn't have a police scanner." Scott explained.

"Your mom works at the hospital. Maybe she got called in and you overheard her?"

"My mom wasn't home that night." Scott told Malia.

Kennedy shook her head. "I got a call from you asking me to join you. But I said no because I wanted to sleep." She said, knowing she had no clue about the body and couldn't have told Scott. "But you live five miles away from here, so how did you even get here?"

Danielle shrugged. "He drove."

"I didn't have a car."

"You ran."

Scott looked at Malia. "I couldn't have. I had asthma." He said as he walked down the path. "I was hiding, but they knew that I was here."

Malia shrugged. "Maybe you made a ton of noise with your asthmatic breathing."

"How would they know that it was me?" Scott asked as he tried to piece together the fragmented memories. "Why would the Sheriff even think that I would be out here?"

Lydia shrugged her shoulders. "Because like most deaths in this town, it was related to the supernatural." She suggested.

Scott shook his head. "I wasn't supernatural." He said slowly, "I mean, this was the night that I was bitten." Kennedy looked away slowly as she thought about that night. "I wasn't a werewolf yet. And I wasn't out here alone." Kennedy's heart sank as she thought about that night.

Sixteen-year-old Kennedy had been sleeping in her clothes from that day. That is until there was an abrupt knock that echoed through her house. She trotted down the stairs, pulling open the front door to see a teenage boy standing outside in the rain.

"What are you doing?" Kennedy hissed, pulling the boy inside. His shoes squeaked on the wooden floors as he stumbled. "It's storming!"

"Scott and I were looking for the body," The boy breathed, pushing off the hood on his head. Kennedy's eyes widened. "But our dads caught us. Well, caught me,"

Kennedy's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "Scott is still out there? And you left him there?" She scolded her best friend. The boy yelped as she slapped his arm.

"He'll be fine! They probably found him already." The boy with the buzzcut explained as he waved her off. "But my dad sent me here for the night. So, uh," He trailed off with a sheepish grin. Kennedy Stallard scoffed, rolling her eyes and tugging him up the stairs.

The boy stood in her bedroom as she walked across the hall. "You'll get a cold," She told the boy as she gestured to his soaking clothes. "I'll get you something from my dad's room."

He looked around, fiddling his hands together. "So, how's being sixteen?" He called out. Kennedy had been sixteen for a week, now. Her birthday was last weekend. Kennedy was down the hall, biting her lip as she thought about a familiar bet that was haunting the friends from middle school.

"Good," She chirped, walking back towards her room. She stepped inside, looking at him. They were both thinking it. After all, if anyone had the balls to fulfill a bet they made when they were twelve it would be him and Kennedy. She leaned against the doorframe, knowing he wanted to ask her an extremely awkward question. "No. Jackson and I never had sex."

Buzzcut boy's brown eyes widened. He was shocked, to say the least. How could Jackson Whittemore not have slept with Kennedy Stallard? Or rather, how could Kennedy not have slept with Jackson? They were the hottest couple in school, constantly all over each other. "Really?" His throat ran dry as he tried to think about what to say next.

Kennedy nodded, "Which means, there's a bet that we have to deal with." She hummed as she looked at him again. Her eyes were softer, more nervous than ever. She watched as he anxiously fiddled with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

"No, we don't have to. I mean we don't have to if you don't want to." The boy rambled. Kennedy rose a playful brow. "We were kids. I mean, it's not that I don't want to have sex with you, I do. I mean, I don't mind. But I don't want to do it if you're uncomfortable-" Kennedy cut him off with his name. The boy paused, realizing he was still rambling like an idiot. "Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Within moments, the two were sharing their first kisses with each other. His heart was racing with nerves. He had been secretly in love with this girl for years and now he was kissing her? Of course, there was the entire part where his best friend, Scott, also happened to be in love with her, but selfishly the boy didn't want to care. His clothes dampened Kennedy's, but neither seemed to mind.

His lips collided with hers, never wanting to pull away as Kennedy peeled his sweatshirt off of him. Within moments, she had peeled off his shirt too. Finally trying to muster some courage, the boy pulled Kennedy in by her waist, turning her towards the bed. His fingers fiddled with her flannel, letting it unbutton and reveal the black bra underneath.

Kennedy fell back on the bed, the boy was hovering over her, his arms resting at either side of her head. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He asked her. Kennedy watched him skim her body, looking down at her shirt which he had unbuttoned. The red flannel puddled on either side of her, his face inches from hers. She studied his features. Kennedy remembered his ragged breathing from their heated kiss. His beautiful brown eyes stared down at her, and his jaw was illuminated by the moonlight.

Her mind traveled to the story Stiles told her before. About the body, the woods, and Scott there alone. "Are you sure Scott's going to be okay?" Kennedy asked, her voice soft. The boy thought about the room only next door, which was essentially his own room that he slept in when he was over. But now, well, he was here, with this girl that he's known all his life.

The boy thinks for a moment, wondering if it's worth it to stop to go find Scott. But every rational thought passed when he looked back at her. Her shirt was pulled apart, and her black lace bra. Once again, selfishly, he wanted something for himself. "Yeah I think he'll be fine," He breathes, leaning down, pressing his lips on hers. Kennedy's arms link around his neck, their bodies pushing closer together in every way they could, closing any space between them. It felt like a drug that neither of them could get enough of. The two sat up for just a moment, letting him slide the fabric off her soft arms. She leaned her forehead on his, letting out heavy breaths as his hands grazed her figure. She placed her hands on his jaw, her hazel eyes studying his features, and his brown eyes. The boy looked at her lips, and then leaned back in, connecting their lips once more.

"I know this sounds crazy. But I think I had a best friend." Scott said, causing Kennedy to come back to the present. "And I think he was out here with me that night."

Malia spoke up, "It doesn't sound crazy." She said, looking between them. "I know that someone chained me up when Kennedy wasn't here, and I think they wanted me to stay human."

"I came to school this morning and I was sure I was supposed to meet someone with Danielle." Lydia added, looking at them. "But I couldn't remember who it was supposed to be."

Danielle nodded, putting a hand on Lydia's back as the redhead sighed. "We have been looking for them all day." She told the others.

Kennedy was still silent, causing everyone to look at her. The Stallard girls eyes slowly reached Scott's. She knew the truth now. Or enough of it. "You did have a best friend. I did too." Kennedy couldn't understand the sinking feeling in her chest. Was she sad because she knew the truth? Because what she would have to say would hurt Scott? Or was she said because she betrayed someone? "But he was more than that." Scott's brows titled downwards. He was confused, as were the others as they watched Kennedy's eyes turn glossy. "They were my soulmate. And I loved him."

Scott was silent as he tried to let what Kennedy said sink in. "What if we're all missing the same person?" Scott asked the others. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a photo. It was from the other day. Malia and Dani were sitting on the table, while Lydia leaned into Kennedy. There was a space between Scott and Kennedy, where her hand was placed. "I think that he was in this picture."

"He was sitting right there," Kennedy whispered as she pointed to the space between her and Scott. He looked at her, seeing an unreadable expression. "He was holding my hand."

༺❀༻

"Now she just magically writes down all the answers?" Asked Malia Tate. She stood next to Scott McCall and Danielle Tyler. A few feet away was Kennedy Stallard. She and Scott kept their distance, now feeling awkward about what Kennedy had said. Lydia sat at a metal table in front of the glass shard Scott took from the junk yard. It was hanging by a thread under a light.

"It's not quite that simple."

Lydia pursed her lips tightly. "It never is." She commented, looking towards Danielle.

Scott shoved his hands in his pocket, repeatedly looking in Kennedy's direction. "In automatic writing, the hand moves outside of any conscious awareness." Explained Alan Deaton. He moved his hands as he spoke. He looked toward Lydia. "Now hopefully the silence, the darkness, and the light will allow you to find a more comfortable, relaxed, trance-like state."

Danielle spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "Why isn't Kennedy doing it?" She blurted, causing everyone to look towards her. "She's the one having visions of him. Hell, she drew him." She deadpanned. Scott turned toward the auburn-haired girl.

"You did?"

Kenedy shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what I drew," She whispered.

Deaton answered Danielle's question. "Banshees and Seers have similar connections with clairvoyance. However, I'm worried of what damage I'll cause if we push too many memories into Kennedy's mind at once." He explained as he looked towards the girl. Kennedy was quiet as she stared at her shoes. "Her mind may be even go into lockdown,"

Lydia cleared her throat, brushing her hands on her lap. "I'll do it. It's fine." She whispered as she looked towards Deaton.

Scott took steps towards Kennedy, taking her hand in his. The Stallard girl looked at him questioninly. The McCall was trying to hide it, but Kennedy could sense the pain and worry in his pheromones and in his eyes. "Lydia, I want you to stare into the light." Deaton said to the Martin. And let go of all thought." The others followed Deaton towards the exit. The pink-haired werecoyote repeatedly looked back as she stepped into the next room. Lydia placed the pen onto the paper. Quickly, she began to write. "I have to warn you. We may not be able to access these memories."

"Why not?" Asked Scott.

"The legend has always been that the Wild Hunt takes people," Deaton told the pack, his hands art his sides. "But if what you're telling me is right, the truth is much worse. They erase people from reality."

Danielle looked towards Lydia again. The banshee was in a trance, writing quickly as she stared into the glass in front of her. Shaking her head, she looked toward the veterinarian. "Okay, but how do we remember someone who has been completely erased from our minds?" She asked with curiosity.

Deaton pursed his lips as he looked toward Kennedy. Malia stood up straight, looking towards Lydia. "Maybe he hasn't been." She suggested. The Martin girl was writing quicker, pushing her pen harshly into the paper. The metal table shook as Lydia rocked back and forth and wrote.

"Is she okay? Should we stop her?" Asked Danielle.

The veterinarian pushed the kids behind him as he walked closer. "Lydia? Lydia? Slow down." He reached over, switching off the light.

Lydia stopped. She dropped the pen, staring. Scott leaned closer, "Is she okay?"

"Lydia?"

Kennedy took the piece of paper from the table. Malia looked over her friends shoulder, frowning. "What does mischief mean?" Malia asked as she looked around the group.

A small smile spread upon Kennedy's lips. She didn't know why. "That's not what she wrote." She whispered, placing the page on the metal table and turning it sideways.

Lydia gasped, coming back to reality. Danielle's hand was on the girls back. Lydia looked directly at Kennedy. "What the hell is a Stiles?"