Kleptomaniac

Sterling stars shone brightly against the deep blue seemingly endless sky. Dense purple clouds occasionally scattered disrupting the perfect canvas of night. Soaking in the flawless beauty of nature, Vivian Rose Martin’s petite manicured hands plucked absently at the damp dew covered blades of grass. Daydreaming chartreuse irises gazing up at the lustrous twinkling stars, pleasant breeze delicately flowing over the bare ivory skin of her exposed limbs. Vivian Rose allowed a tenuous sigh to escape her plush peach glossed lips, a bereaved nihility creeping within the depths of her stomach. Another excruciating month has passed since she’d last seen any werewolves; the day reality clashed with fiction. Stiles, being the admiral friend he is, explained, in great detail, all of the best kept secrets of Beacon Hills; hunters, werewolves, a Kanima. The information overload was frightening. The young woman began experiencing paralyzing night terrors; heart hammering against her ribcage viciously, drenched in cold clammy sweats, petite hands clutching the feather stuffed pillow under her head in white knuckled fists. Ironically, the worst part of the horrendous nightmares were waking up alone. The timorous fragile human heart within her ribs yearned for safety, a specific sanctuary found within the arms of one person. Isaac.

Vivian’s perplexed emerald irises fluttered closed; the warm breeze nimbly dancing over the bare flesh of her porcelain face. The gravedigger’s son had tried numerous times to reach out to the young woman. The beta used every form of communication humanly possible; always to no avail. Isaac was determined to reach out, relentlessly texting the teenage girl every night before bed. The text always read the same thing: “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. I miss you.”. A harmonious chime disrupted the silence earning the teenager’s attention almost instantly. The smartphone’s screen displayed the message: One Unread Message. Like clockwork, Vivian’s thoughts observed as her index finger danced nimbly across the screen. The muscle within its bone confine hammered savagely as an unknown quiver trembled within the depths of her stomach. The message was different today, three words typed neatly on the cell phone screen that stirred a ravenous internal urge; I love you.



Monday passed aberrantly expeditious, each class overshadowing the last, Vivian Rose’s cognition eclipsed by memories of precious moments in time spent in Isaac’s presence. The deep connection held within the young woman’s heart for the gravedigger’s son was mistaken for strong affection. The real reason after such traumatizing events a daunting void had settled over her heart was Isaac’s absence. Friends can miss friends; the ache was completely normal. What wasn’t normal was the internal desire; the longing to get lost in his vibrant indigo sapphire irises, the urge to tangle her manicured fingers in his soft dirty blonde curls, the breathtaking ache for his strong hands to brush her flawless cheekbones affectionately. She fell in love with Isaac Lahey. She needed him.

“Hey.” Stiles deep voice greeted, shaking the girl from her heartfelt realization. “I am going to practice, now. I’ll meet you in front of the library after, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Vivian nodded, plush peach glossed lips pursing together as the young woman’s thoughts wandered. “Do you know if Allison’s still here?”

“Uh.” Stiles stammered, taken back by the inquiry. He was aware during the break from their group of friends that Vivian had spoken with Allison online, but she had yet to speak to her in person. “Yeah. She mentioned to Scott that she’s working on a project in Harris’ room.”

“Thanks Stiles.” She replied, placing a manicured hand on his broad shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sending him a wave. The young woman’s auburn floral print flats echoed through the empty hall as she jogged to the best of her ability, one hand securely clutching the strap to her neon pink book bag as the other held the end of her white summer dress. Stiles placed his strong hand on his cheek, a warm blush creeping up his neck as he fought back the flourishing affection for the beautiful girl. They were friends; that’s it. The youngest Martin twin disappeared from site as she continued on her journey to Mr.Harris’ class in search of Allison Argent.



The Beacon Hills High School parking lot was congested with vehicles desperately searching for a decent parking spot. Tonight’s game was clearly going to be overflowing with energized students and supportive parents. Lydia’s olive green eyes searched the crowd of lacrosse players in hopes of catching sight of Jackson Whittemore. Vivian Rose stood beside her twin sister, optimistic chartreuse irises scanning the lacrosse players’ jerseys in pursuit of a specific number. 14; the moment the number came into view a smothering vexation washed over her senses. What if he was mad at her for being absent for so long? What if she wasn’t ready to face him yet? What if meant he loved her as a friend? All haunting inquires vanished the moment Isaac turned around, hopeful ice blue orbs scanning the crowded bleachers. Gleaming chartreuse irises met a pair of bright indigo sapphire eyes in a heartfelt gaze. The muscle within the beta’s steel ribcage skipping at the sight of his angelic savior. He’d forgotten how breathtaking she was. It felt as though it had been years since he’d been given the pleasure of seeing such beauty. Vivian’s lengthy strawberry blonde hair was straightened hidden under a snow white crotched beanie, bewitching emerald irises rimmed with catlike midnight eyeliner, #14 written neatly on her flawless porcelain cheek, appealing peach glossed lips in a dazzling smile showing off her straight pearly white teeth, a beige floral print button up tank top hugging her torso, short dark blue denim shorts showing off her lean legs. Perfection.

“Isaac!” Vivian’s harmonious gentle-natured voice called, manicured hands waving as she jumped in an effort to catch his full attention. A handsome smile consumed Isaac’s strong features as he waved shyly at the young woman. The gravedigger’s son’s heart viciously collided against his steel ribcage in rhythmic throbs; memories of his last text lingering in the forefront of his mind. He needed the youngest Martin twin to know that he is helplessly in love her. Without her heavenly presence he felt emptied. She was his anchor, the control to the beast within. Isaac’s dark eyebrows knit together in confusion as he noticed the redhead mouthing something in his direction, the words disappearing in the wave of shouts from the energized crowd. He’d been so wrapped up in his hopeful thoughts that he hadn’t been paying attention.

“I love you!” The melodious sweet-natured truth caused the beta’s heart to stop. The breath within his steel lungs escaping his nostrils in a painful exhale. For a moment, time stood still, as the phrase sunk in causing an unexpected reaction. Before he knew it, Isaac was running toward the congregation of high school students and parents on the aluminum bleachers. Cleat clad feet taking the steps two at a time as he shoved through unknowing members of Beacon Hills. He had to reach her; to delve his strong fingers in her strawberry blonde locks, to wrap his muscular arms around her petite frame, to capture her alluring peach glossed lips in a passion filled kiss. Vivian’s enthusiastic smile never faltered, the happiness shimmering within her engaging chartreuse irises. Isaac’s strong fingers swooped down in one swift motion, tangling in her smooth hair as he crashed his mouth against hers. There was no hesitation on either part, the couple kissed with unimaginable passion. Thousands of unspoken words reaching each other’s lips, the message was crystal clear. He loved her, and she loved him too.

“I love you, Isaac.” Vivian whispered gently, releasing an adorable giggle as she wiped lip gloss from his mouth.

“I love you, Vivian.” Isaac replied, the muscle within its bone confine swelling. There was nowhere else he’d rather be. For once, he felt like everything would be okay. He wasn’t just a monster, a victim, or a predator. He was just Isaac Lahey. There was hope. That hope dwelled within Vivian Rose Martin’s heart, and he would never let that go.