Curiosity

Anytime I would stick my nose into someone's business they'd turn around and tell me that 'curiosity killed the cat', I would laugh and mock them for being so brainless. They'd call me naive and tell me that one day, my cat would be killed. I think they meant it theoritically, I never owned a cat.

I was sitting at my desk searching up information on this missing body in Beacon Hills. I had overhead a kid in my school talking about it and as usual curiosity overwhelmed me. I couldn't find much and to be honest, I wasn't really planning on counting on it.

"Emilee," My father peeked his head through, he still had his uniform on. He walked into my room and sat down on my freshly made bed, "What are you doing?"

My desk faced the doorway, and away from my bed. I quickly exited out the missing persons website and pulled up my dream car, "Looking at cars." I mumbled, my father could always tell when I was lying.

He didn't push any farther, his face lit up, "I've a got a suprise for you!" He stood up and unclipped his taser and gun and placed them on my dresser. He pulled out a letter and handed it to me, "Read the beginning."

I took the piece of paper and held it in my hands, "Hey Mark, I just want to let you know that my wife, Allison, and I will be moving up to Beacon Hills in a few days-" I stopped and immediately got excited, I jumped from my desk chair, "Yes!"

He chuckled and reached for his deadly weapons, "I thought you'd be excited. She should be in school tomorrow, I got the letter a few days ago." He tapped my nose and his look got real serious, "Oh and Em, stop looking up stuff that involves my duty, okay?" He left my room leaving my mouth open.

It amazed me how my father knew without even looking up my history, that I was somewhat involved in looking up details that related to his job. I reached for my purple blackberry and dialed a number, I heard it ring a few times before I heard a confused hello.

"Stiles!" I awkwardly apologized for calling late and out of the blue, "Have you heard anything on the missing body?"

I heard Stiles sigh and lower his voice in shame, "No, I got caught snooping. Scott's still out there though. I've been trying to text him but he's not answering. I wonder if he got ki-"

"-Really? You're going to say something like that about your best friend?" I twirled a piece of my hair and shook my head, "Well, as always, my pops won't even think twice about telling me anything."

Stiles chuckled, "Well, besides me. You're the most curious person in Beacon Hills."

We talked a few more minutes about absolutely nothing and broke off the conversation. I climbed into my bed and opened my dresser drawer. I pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and started to write to my mother about my day.

I had been doing this for the past six months my mother had been checked in rehab for alcohol. My father would take the letter and drop it off on his way to the station. He knew how much it meant to me for my mother to recieve these letters. Even if she swore she hated us for making her go to rehab, I knew that she still wanted to be apart of my life.

And I wasn't about to check her out of mine so fast. She was my mother and she had major flaws, and I'd grow up to have some of mine. But, for now, I appreciated the times she was a mother to me. There was no use in dwelling on the accidental abuse here and there.