isabel culpeper; ♔

Frosted covered grass crunches under my boot, the only sound of life for miles. Winter begins to seep through the toes of my boots, chilling my sock-covered feet. I pull the hat closer around my ears hastily, annoyed with Mother Nature for perhaps the millionth time this evening.

Sometimes I wander through the woods and find myself scanning the trees for a familiar face – or rather, a face that would be familiar in a different form. Jack, Sam, Derek – although some faces are obviously more likely to appear than others, I never see them. Maybe their weird wolf instincts tell them to stay away from a random girl tramping through their woods. Maybe they smell the Culpeper in my blood.

Not far in the distance, a stark form in the white snow catches my eye – a lump of something unmoving in the dirt, snow drifting around it. Most people would not approach a body in the woods. I am not most people.

I approach the body face-first, and can’t help but smirk in an unfunny manner when I realize who it is – snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes. Derek.

His eyes flutter open, unfocused, and somehow seemingly unsupervised to find me hovering over him. His voice is hoarse when he speaks.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I scoff, holding a gloved hand out to him, yanking him to his unsteady feet. “I wouldn’t advise laying butt-ass naked in the woods, but clearly you’re well past the point of being able to be advised.” I pull of my gloves and hat, revealing a blonde clusterfuck of hair where it was sitting, and shove them into Derek’s chest. “We need to get you to somewhere warm. What the hell are you doing out here?”

I’ve never been very good at listening to advice, have I? Too stubborn for my own good.

I feel unsteady on my feet. Everything is numb. It’s hard to even form words properly. “Trying to be a wolf,” I manage to answer her. Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to escape myself. Trying to be with my family.

“Has it finally happened?” I ask. “Have you finally lost the last shred of sanity you had left?” It’s the only way I know how to respond to his self destructive tendencies -- sarcasm. Brush it off. He knows I won’t fawn over him or baby him -- maybe that’s why we work so well. I have the expectation set -- I won’t sugarcoat. He won’t hate me for being a bitch.

Derek and Isabel

I am laying on my back in the snow. The sky is growing darker and still I watch the tiny flakes drifting lazily down to the earth. They sparkle in the moonlight. Time seems to stand still. I lose track of how long I’ve been here. I lose track of my own body, numb from the cold. I wish that I could stay here forever and be buried under the snow, hibernating until life looks better.

There’s the sound of howling in the distance. I feel less alone. The ones I love are so close yet just out of reach.

Sometimes I wander through the woods and find myself scanning the trees for a familiar face -- or rather, a face that would be familiar in a different form. Jack, Sam, Derek -- although some faces are obviously more likely to appear than others, I never see them. Maybe their weird wolf instincts tell them to stay away from a random girl tramping through their woods. Maybe they smell the Culpeper in my blood.

Not far in the distance, a stark form in the white snow catches my eye -- a lump of something unmoving in the dirt, snow drifting around it. Most people would not approach a body in the woods. I am not most people.

I approach the body face-first, and can’t help but smirk in an unfunny manner when I realize who it is -- snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes. Derek.

His eyes flutter open, unfocused, and somehow seemingly unsupervised to find me hovering over him. His voice is hoarse when he speaks.

I’m curled up on the couch crying when she walks in. Why is it always her? I despise her. Mostly out of jealousy. And I hate that she gets to see me vulnerable. I sniffle, trying to stop my tears because it’s embarrassing.

“I love him,” I say to her, though she hasn’t said a word to me yet. I don’t know what she’s here for, probably looking for Cole or maybe even Grace. I don’t care.

Do I detect a hint of vulnerability? She’s being so nice to me, not making any sarcastic joke to cover up her feelings. So I return the favor. “I’ve been alone a lot lately,” I admit. Sam’s always with Grace, Beck and most of the others are gone, Cole disappeared on us, Victor is…

“I’m really glad you’re here.” I once hated to even see her face. How did we end up here? Life is crazy. “We can go through all of this fucked up shit together at least.” If neither one of us can truly run away and escape all of this, at least we’re not alone.

Whatever happens now, as long as I have Isabel around, then I won’t be so afraid.

stfu-isabel

Alone. It seems so ironic, given that he shouldn’t be. He has a pack, a family, actual animal instincts that draw him near to other people like him. If anything, i guess that’s what makes it all the more lonesome when they’re gone. Missing someone with every fiber in your being, a someone that is the reason you’re alive, someone who shares the same experiences, the same pain, the same life. I can relate to being alone -- Culpepers have a habit of existing within their own plane of existence, their own orbit around the sun, burning to the touch. But it’s nothing compared to the loneliness Derek and the others must experience. What Jack must’ve experienced.

Part of me is expecting Isabel to be angry at me. I deserve it. I convinced her to run away with me then fucked this all up by becoming a wolf. It was a stupid idea. But she’s not yelling at me. She’s reaching out to me.

So I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly. “Thank you,” I tell her. She did a good job, handled the situation well and kept me safe locked inside the bathroom. Her voice had soothed me. “I’m so sorry.” I feel guilty every time she gets dragged into werewolf problems.

stfu-isabel

Derek’s arms suddenly swallow me, wrapping me tightly into his robed torso. His chin rests against the top of my head as we stand in the doorway.

I can’t help but wonder what he’s apologizing for. Being an inconvenience? Being himself? Being alive? Another bullshit thing that is out of his control that he feels the need to apologize for?

I sometimes wonder how different my feelings towards the supernatural would feel if I wasn’t in so deep from the beginning. From witnessing Grace’s obsession from a distance in high school, I always knew something was up. Watching Jack writhe and die at my hands really seemed to be the point of no return – the lives of those in the pack completely intertwined with my own from that moment forward. It’s odd to think of Derek apologizing when really, I chose this. I knew what I was getting into.

“Usually when I become a wolf, my first thought is something like I need to find my pack.” I’m not sure if it’s the pack mentality and wolf instincts kicking in or if it’s just me. “I try to find what’s familiar to me. The other wolves are familiar, especially one in particular.” Victor. I always recognize him. I always find him in the woods and then I feel less anxious. But things have become complicated between us. Things aren’t the same anymore.

His words tug at my heart in a way I don’t expect. “You’d be the first to say that my voice doesn’t strike the fear of God into your soul.” I deflect my mushy feelings instead, and nudge him lightly in the shoulder.

Part of me is expecting Isabel to be angry at me. I deserve it. I convinced her to run away with me then fucked this all up by becoming a wolf. It was a stupid idea. But she’s not yelling at me. She’s reaching out to me.

So I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly. “Thank you,” I tell her. She did a good job, handled the situation well and kept me safe locked inside the bathroom. Her voice had soothed me. “I’m so sorry.” I feel guilty every time she gets dragged into werewolf problems.

stfu-isabel

Derek’s arms suddenly swallow me, wrapping me tightly into his robed torso. His chin rests against the top of my head as we stand in the doorway.

I can’t help but wonder what he’s apologizing for. Being an inconvenience? Being himself? Being alive? Another bullshit thing that is out of his control that he feels the need to apologize for?

I sometimes wonder how different my feelings towards the supernatural would feel if I wasn’t in so deep from the beginning. From witnessing Grace’s obsession from a distance in high school, I always knew something was up. Watching Jack writhe and die at my hands really seemed to be the point of no return – the lives of those in the pack completely intertwined with my own from that moment forward. It’s odd to think of Derek apologizing when really, I chose this. I knew what I was getting into.

“I’m alright,” I say. “Tired, a little sore, but I’ve been worse.” I think of the moment when I was attacked by a wolf, how I became one of them. I think of the wolf who attacked me and her anger and despair about this life. I think of the wolves who tried to run away and got shot because they changed in the wrong place at the wrong time. “I just want to lay here for a bit,” I say.

Derek’s eyes seem far away, lost in the ceiling tiles, breathing even and relaxed, although its clear from his clouded expression he is anything but. I slowly run my fingertips along his jaw, his shoulder, his arm, feeling his tense muscles relax themselves slowly.

Part of me is expecting Isabel to be angry at me. I deserve it. I convinced her to run away with me then fucked this all up by becoming a wolf. It was a stupid idea. But she’s not yelling at me. She’s reaching out to me.

So I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly. “Thank you,” I tell her. She did a good job, handled the situation well and kept me safe locked inside the bathroom. Her voice had soothed me. “I’m so sorry.” I feel guilty every time she gets dragged into werewolf problems.

stfu-isabel

Derek’s arms suddenly swallow me, wrapping me tightly into his robed torso. His chin rests against the top of my head as we stand in the doorway.

I can’t help but wonder what he’s apologizing for. Being an inconvenience? Being himself? Being alive? Another bullshit thing that is out of his control that he feels the need to apologize for?

I sometimes wonder how different my feelings towards the supernatural would feel if I wasn’t in so deep from the beginning. From witnessing Grace’s obsession from a distance in high school, I always knew something was up. Watching Jack writhe and die at my hands really seemed to be the point of no return -- the lives of those in the pack completely intertwined with my own from that moment forward. It’s odd to think of Derek apologizing when really, I chose this. I knew what I was getting into.

Changing into a wolf in bathrooms is not unusual for me. When I force myself to shift with injections, I usually lock myself up in Beck’s bathroom where I can’t get into any trouble. But this is not Beck’s bathroom. It’s a strange place and as a wolf it makes me feel panicked.

I scratch lightly at the door, curious. My claws leave gashes in the wood but the door doesn’t budge so I quickly give up on it. I sniff around the bathroom, realizing that there’s no where to escape to.

And then there’s a sound. It’s a voice. I don’t know what it means, can’t understand the sound of my name as a wolf. But the voice sounds familiar. As a wolf I’ve been gifted with having a good memory and hearing this familiar voice comforts me. It keeps me from freaking out too badly and destroying the bathroom. I make a whimpering sound in response and pace back and forth across the cold tiled floor for a while before finally laying down. I rest my head on my front paws and wait for something to happen.

It’s not long before I change back to my human form. I lay there naked on the bathroom floor for a moment. Then I reach for a hotel bath robe to cover myself and stand up. My hands are trembling slightly as I tie the robe but I’m otherwise alright. At least I didn’t do too much damage to the bathroom minus the scratched door.

“Isabel?” I ask. My voice sounds a little hoarse as if I’d been sleeping and just woken up. “Are you there? You can let me out now please.” I feel so shitty for changing here with her in the room alone. I need to apologize to her.

stfu-isabel

A low whine fills the room, surprising me. I hadn’t expected him to react to my voice, especially in a remotely human way.

There is no sound afterwords, only the sound of my own heart thrumming deep within my chest, the occasional huff of breath from Derek. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for something to happen.

“Isabel?” Derek’s gruff voice drags me out of whatever daydream had taken over my head in the silence, and I snap back to attention, standing quickly despite my legs aching from sitting in the same position for so long.

I drag the desk hastily away from the door, not bothering to put it back to its original placement, and open the door, finding Derek looking drearily back at me, eyelids heavy over his dark eyes, a fluffy robe clothing him, hair ruffled atop his head. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought he had just woken up.

The cure seems closer than ever with Isabel helping me. Everything she is saying makes sense. It’s so good to have someone else to discuss this with. “You are absolutely brilliant,” I tell her. I don’t know exactly how we should go about the heat without anybody dying but I have no doubt that we can figure it out together.

Even a few extra years would be a gift. She’s right about that. It hurts so much to hope. My heart races with excitement or fear or perhaps a mix of both. Why does it hurt so much? And then I shiver in the violent unnatural way that can’t be mistaken for anything else except a warning.

Not now, I think to myself. Please not now. But I know that this is the consequence of playing games, forcing the shift with chemical mixes, that eventually I would shift without wanting to. This is what I get for being so stupid to think that I could ever run away from my problems.

I don’t have much time. “I need you to lock me in the bathroom,” I tell Isabel. I can’t fight it. This is happening. I feel sick. “Push something heavy against the door just to be safe.” I won’t be able to turn the door knob but I can’t be sure that the door will hold the weight of a wolf desperate to escape. I can’t be sure if I’ll try to escape. Probably not but I don’t want to risk it. It’s hard to predict what I’ll do when I’m not myself.

“Don’t let anyone in and don’t let me out until I’m myself again.” I can only hope that I don’t cause too much noise and risk hotel security coming to investigate.

Another shiver violently wracks my body as I stumble into the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” I tell Isabel and then I shut the door as my body starts to change shape.

stfu-isabel

As sudden as the flick of a light switch, Derek is transported to somewhere other than this hotel room. The vacant look in his eyes, the sudden shudder of his body, sending him adrift from our conversation. 

His words come out in a rush as he stands from the bed, his face flushed and eyes wild with something resemblng urgency. Fear.

Delayed, I get off the bed and follow him to the bathroom as he leans in the threshold, stumbling and disoriented. As soon as the door clicks shut, I snap to reality, grabbing the desk in the corner and dragging it in front of the bathroom door as quickly as I can, leaving little indented streaks on the cheap carpet.

I rest my back against the leg of the desk and sit on the floor, pressing all my weight against it, knees brought up to my chest, simultaneously trying to tune out the sound of Derek shifting, while also disgustingly interested. It certainly isn’t the first time someone has shifted in front of me -- even him -- and I’m sure it won’t be the last. However, it never fails to thrill me in an indescribable way, the way that curiosity burns through my body, the thought of something I have no way of knowing or experiencing.

Derek’s claws clack against the tiled floor after a moment of silence as he walks around the bathroom. If I stifle my breathing and listen hard enough, I can hear his nose working, sniffing at the bathroom through new senses. He doesn’t seem to be destroying anything, so I guess that’s a win. I really didn’t want to trash a hotel room today.

Its hard to know what could cure us. I’m not a genius like Cole. When Cole ran away wherever he went, he left his notes behind. I’ve researched all of Beck’s journals- searching for clues. I’ve tried to piece it all together. I’ve experimented on myself. But I still don’t know the answer to a cure for our fate.

“This is what I know works,” I decide this is the best place to start. “I’ve made a solution of epinephrine and pseudoephedrine, altered it slightly from a note I found.” I don’t want to say Cole’s name. It feels like a bad word. “It can turn you back from a wolf but not for long. No more than fifteen minutes. It’s not a cure.”

Will she ask me who I tested it on? How I know it works? This is no easy conversation. But we have to get through the difficult parts if we want the reward. I can’t be afraid to face this head on or we won’t find a cure.

“To turn into a wolf the best combination is epinephrine, a vasodilator to make it faster, a beta-blocker to limit unwanted side effects, and  aspirin to help the inevitable headache. Again, this doesn’t last forever. No more than fifteen minutes before I’m human again.”

I don’t know if any of this is even helpful but I’m kind of glad to not be facing this alone anymore.

stfu-isabel

The pen scribbles against the notepad as I jot down what Derek is saying, my mind trying to put all the pieces together into something cohesive, something new.

Even if the shift is fifteen minutes, it’s better than five. It’s better than nothing at all. It’s a start. Although it’s dangerous. Who’s to say what the side effects could be? Is there a really a worse fate than being a werewolf, in the grand scheme of things?

Clearly not, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

No one wants to go through what Jack went through. I wouldn’t let anyone take that type of risk. It’s one thing to risk my own life but I won’t allow myself to risk the lives of anyone else in a search for the cure. I’m going to be more careful now then I ever was before. Because I don’t want Isabel to watch me die.

I never would have dreamed that I’d hear Isabel as it to being afraid. It means so much to me to see her admit such a vulnerable and honest thing like that to me. We really are friends now, aren’t we?

“You’re right,” I agree. “We’ll find a way together.” As long as I have Isabel at my side helping me then I’m sure we can do anything we set our minds to.

stfu-isabel

In this moment, I can’t help but to feel optimistic. That it could work. It has to work.

I think of Grace, Sam, Derek. The people I care about, eventually succumbing to the trees, becoming nothing but a wolf. It terrifies me. I won’t let it happen if I have any say in it.

Suddenly inspired, I reach over to the side-table and grab the little hotel-branded notepad that resides there, clicking and unclicking the cheap pen against my lips as I think.

Im sure that we’re both thinking of Jack. It’s impossible not to. What if we fuck this up and someone dies? Could we actually find a real cure? With Isabel at my side saying all the right things, using her courage and intelligence to help me, it feels like a real possibility. The cure feels within reach. And I understand why Sam said that hope hurts. My heart aches.

“How would we do that?” I ask her. My voice sounds shaky, betraying me and showing all of my emotions on the surface.

“I’ve never told anyone this…” I admit quietly. “But I’m scared.”

stfu-isabel

“I don’t know.” I admit, running a hand hastily through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “Meningitis could’ve worked. Maybe Jack wasn’t strong enough. But I’m not sure anyone would want to risk that again.”

Derek’s eyes are downcast, his voice trembling, betraying his fear even if his words hadn’t.

I didn’t want to hear that question. I was dreading it. Can’t we just pretend forever? I don’t want to go back to reality. “What do you want to happen?” I ask her. I consider how I could run away forever. The wolves who ran away and died didn’t change enough. With drugs in a controlled setting I could force myself to change. But it’s artificial. It’s not the same. It would only be a matter of time before I’d change somewhere unexpectedly and get shot for it like the others did. I imagine Isabel seeing me die and it doesn’t seem fair after she watched her brother die. She almost saw me die once already and she saved my life. She saved my life for what? Not for me to get shot. I have to find a cure. It’s the only way. “I can’t run away forever,” I admit quietly. “But you could. You should go have a better life, even if I can’t.”

stfu-isabel

Even though I saw the reverse question coming, I still find myself struggling to come up with a response. I know how ridiculous this is – I barely know him. Our history should prove us to be acquaintances at best, not whatever this is. Yet here we are, and even though I told myself I wouldn’t take it too seriously, that this was just an escape, a distraction, I let him get under my skin, rooting himself there.

What is it about these damn werewolf boys? Apparently moody, emotionally unstable wolf-men are my kryptonite. Go figure.

It really begs the question – how do I really feel about Derek? Is this really just a distraction? Why did I let him in so easily? Surely that has to mean something, whether I want to admit it or not.

His fingers still on my hip, hovering on the skin there as he speaks, voice low, eyes watching the TV, although it’s clear he isn’t really looking at it.

I scoff, unable to let myself be vulnerable for even a fucking moment. Way to stay on brand, Culpeper. “And go where? I don’t think I can have a better life. I think I’m doomed to put myself in situations that only fuck me over forever.” Even in LA I felt the ties to this stupid town. Throughout the day, I was happy. Or blissfully ignorant, maybe. Distracted by the flashy lights and shops and the new beginning of it all. But at night, trapped in my shitty one bedroom apartment, I couldn’t tear my thoughts away from Mercy Falls, from the memories nailed into my brain, tied to Minnesota, to Cole. Filling the void with green houseplants and artsy prints and anything to give the illusion I was put together.

And Derek. I can’t run away forever. At least I have the option of leaving. Of running.

But what is a life of running? Eventually you would have to stop and catch your breath, right?

I don’t know if I deserve a happy ending or if it’s even possible. But I can’t help wanting a happy ending anyway.

“But if you’re going to stick around here in this town then I’ll do what I can to make you happy. I like it when you smile.”

For a moment I have to become serious again, trying to figure out a way that I could make a happy ending for all of us, and that I could be a good friend to Isabel.

My mind flickers back to standing by Jack, hands shaking as I injected him with the fatal disease that would kill him, slowly and painfully and terribly. I did that. What good is being smart if you still can't manifest its benefits into reality?