Seventeen:

Name: Scott McCall

Age: Seven Days Old

Gender: Male

When Do You Wish To Have Him/Her Dead: When Scott McCall is seventeen, a day after the lunar ellipse, he shall die a painful death.

Thank You For Choosing Us.

Setting the pen down on the counter, he slipped the paper into the wooden box, the top being cut open, him closing his eyes as he heard it slid through, hitting the pile of papers beneath. His hands wrapped around the edges of the table, gripping it to make his knuckles turn a pure white.

Seven days ago Scott McCall was born.

Seventeen years from that day Scott McCall would die.

And his father was the reason why.

Scott McCall made his way down the hall, his bag slumped over his shoulders as he had finished the school day, heading out of the school to go home. His best friend, Stiles Stilinski, had told him that he would be heading home, his father picking him up due to him crashing his jeep and asking if Scott had wanted a ride home, but he reminded him that he had his own way of transportation.

His dirt bike.

When he was out of the school, he made his way over to his dirt bike, sliding on as he put his helmet over his head, taking off without saying another word to anyone.

He must have been out of it because, when he opened his eyes after blinking, the sky was now a darkened blue, almost black, with the stars lighting the sky, the moon somewhere that Scott couldn't see it. He realized he was near a field, possibly filled with corn, but the signs of no barns or houses being around kept him from his estimate. Not noticing, or hearing, a black car was driving behind him, suddenly going in the next lane, alerting Scott at the last minute as he turned his head only for something to hit his chest, falling off his dirt bike. Skidding across the road, he fell off the road to tumble into a ditch, the black car disappearing as Scott's dirt bike crashed a little behind him, possibly fifty feet.

No one was counting.

Laying in the ditch, it was a foot down, hidden from the road as the two foot tall grass did the job of hiding his body. No movement, it was discovered a bullet hole in his chest, the bullet in his stomach as it began to spread out, little by little, purple lines forming across his stomach.

He was unconscious.

"Do you think Scott's fine?" Allison Argent questioned her friend, Lydia Martin, sneaking a quick glance in her direction before pulling her eyes back towards the road.

"Has he spoken to you?" Lydia sounded as if she didn't care as she put her phone away, looking over at Allison who bit her bottom lip.

"Not yet. We'll talk soon." Allison reassured Lydia, mostly saying it for herself as she knew how much she could use to words.

"Honey, he isn't fine then. Do you know where he is?" Lydia asked, watching as Allison's eyes grew a little wider, her starting to pull over to the side of the road.

"Maybe." She whispered, stopping the car as she opened the door, hurrying out as she made her way over to the green dirt bike on the side of the road, the number thirty-two on the front.

"What is it?" Lydia questioned as she got out of the car, leaving the door open like Allison had done, walking over to where Allison was.

"Scott." Allison whispered, pressing her hand against the dirt bike before standing up, walking towards the car as Lydia stayed where she was.

"Now where are we going?" Lydia almost whined, not liking to have to stop and leave, even more when it was about a dirt bike being on the side of the road, abandon.

"To find Scott." Allison said, about to get in when Lydia started walking, stopping when she reached her door, staring at Allison.

"And where is Scott?" Lydia popped in another question, not expecting the coming rage from her friend, not seeing her the way she was before.

"Lydia, get in the damn car." Allison almost growled, enough for Lydia to whisper, "Okay," before walking to the car, getting in the passenger seat as Allison got in the driver's seat.

"Do you know where he is?" Lydia asked once everything was calmed down, them just driving off the side of the road.

"He'll be around here somewhere." Allison attempted to keep her emotions inside of her, knowing that breaking down was not needed at the moment.

"By somewhere, do you mean over there?" Lydia spotted a blood line coming from a random spot on the road, leading over to a place unseen.

"What if he's dead?" Allison questioned as she pulled the car over, Lydia grabbing her arm, turning her to stare into her eyes.

"Scott McCall is not dead." Lydia confirmed, turning to get out of the car once she let go of Allison's arm, her doing the same.

Allison was the first to arrive at the ditch, finding Scott in the ditch, blood oozing out of his chest as he had a few scratches on his face, them healing slowly. Scott wasn't responding which made her brake out her phone, hurrying to call Stiles.

"Stiles." Allison sounded like she would brake down in tears, but she held them back as she put on a brave face for Scott.

"Allison, it's eleven at night, and, if you haven't noticed, I like to sleep." Stiles said into the phone, not understanding the tone of Allison's voice.

"You don't sleep, Stiles. It's practically a debate on rather you spend your nights on werewolves or spend your nights on finding dead bodies." Allison never once forgot about Scott, rushing with her talking on the phone as she watched Lydia stare at him.

"Lydia is the one finding the dead bodies." Stiles defended himself, not aware of anything that was happening, hearing Allison breath deeply on the other line.

"Let's hope she hasn't found another one." Allison told Stiles, him getting curious, leading him to ask questions like his father would do.

"What's the victim's name?" Stiles asked, him rubbing his eyes as he waited for the news, which was going to be the worst news, after hearing of his mother dying, he had gotten in his life.

"Scott McCall." Hearing the line drop, she thought Stiles might have hung up on the surprise, her shoving her phone back into her jeans pocket, wrapping her arms back on Scott's wound.

"What do we do?" Lydia asked, not understanding what she should do to help Scott in the situation, hoping it wasn't as bad as she thought it was.

Or as bad as it looked.

"I don't know." Allison whispered, thinking that for the first time, she didn't know how to help, or maybe it was the second time, possibly the third.

It didn't matter.

She didn't know what to do.

Scott McCall could already be dead and she wouldn't know.

She wouldn't understand.

She wouldn't let him die.

She'd give her life for his.

Give everything for him.

Everything.