The Shining ¥ Teen Wolf

three

Winnie Jones was never, ever an early riser. That was a fact that everyone who'd met her knew.

Yet on Saturday morning at five, she was wide awake and in the middle of a painting in their sun room.

To her it made no sense what so ever, but then again she wasn't exactly in a conscious state.

She was shining, harder than she had in a long time.

Three hours later, Pete rolled over in his bed to find his speaker missing. He felt like he was going to burst, forcing himself out of bed in boxers and a Mallory Lacrosse tee. His hair was everywhere and he was the epitome of angry.

The music tumbled down the hall as he crossed the house like a time bomb.

Pete opened the door of the sun room, his fiery rage slipping away from him. His eyes widened, having to take in the whole room.

Then he saw his sister, painting on a canvas with paint all over her pyjamas. Just by the look on her face he knew she was gone.

Pete turned off the speaker she'd taken from his room and went over to her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he called out. "Winnie."

Winnie coughed, her eyes regaining their light. It took her a moment to regain her composure.

"Winnie?" Pete gave her a second, looking around the sun room littered with morning light. "What are all of these?"

Winnie took in the canvases drying against the wall. There were fourteen, all of the same person.

Pete picked one up, eyeing the blue eyed, dark blond character. "Who is this?" He angled it to her, "Here's Johnny or no, Win?"

Winnie set down her paint palette and brush, grabbing a towel for her hands. "Definitely." She replied, taking a longer look around. "How long have I been up?"

"Do you know this guy?" Pete put down the painting and looked at another. "He's got a black eye in a couple of these."

Winnie dragged the alcohol soaked rag along her forearms, removing various paints. "No, not really. I drew him yesterday. I think his name's Isaac."

"Hey, he's got a jersey in this one." Pete said, pulling out a painting dominated by maroon.

Winnie came over to Pete, him holding it. She furrowed her eyebrows, the alleged Isaac character looking over his shoulder. "Lahey."

"So, this is Isaac Lahey." Pete looked down to his sister but she was too distracted by the painting to reciprocate the action. "Winnie?"

"Hm?" Winnie let her eyes drift up to the blue eyes of the portrait subject.

"What's this about?" Pete softly asked, "Why is this guy everywhere?"

"I have no idea." Her voice was a near whisper, only audible to Pete due to close proximity. "It's scaring me."

"It'll be okay, Winnie." Pete set down the painting and put a comforting arm around his sister. "It'll go away. They always do."

But Winnie wasn't so sure.

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Winnie kept only one of the paintings in her room, but locked all the others away in the attic. She wasn't sure what compelled her to keep it, but she did.

It was the one where he had on his jersey, the eyes as if they were looking at her directly.

"Five," Pete said, poking his head in her door before retreating.

Winnie agreed, the whole house dark except for her vanity lights. She'd curled her hair and winged eyeliner, wearing a black long sleeve dress that flowed from her waist and hit mid-thigh. She put on red lipstick, quiet in her actions as she picked out red heels from her closet. She slipped on a leather jacket, carrying her shoes and a small purse over her shoulder.