Jackson stood in front of the large window. His new room was bigger than most people's apartments; outside, a penthouse view over central London. Yet all he felt was emptiness - and not just because the room was unfurnished. His dad offered to have all his stuff shipped in from Beacon Hills, yet Jackson said he didn't want any of it. Surely, if his adoptive parents could afford moving to London they could afford getting him all he wanted. But what he really needed, he couldn't buy.
He found himself thinking about the last time he visited his parents graves. His REAL parents. He wondered when... if, he'll ever do that again. Sure, he could always buy a plane ticket and go back to Beacon Hills, but right now he was sure as hell he didn't want to. The move meant he needed to put everything behind him. And everyone as well. That was by no means an easy thing to do - not that he'll let it show. He was no stranger to hiding his feelings, masking them with sarcasm and anger. But what he perceived as weakness was never an option.
Jackson reached in the front left pocket of his jeans, clutching the key. He closed his eyes and remembered. Everything was as vivid as if it were happening right then and there: him, giving Lydia his key as they lay in bed next to each other; her, holding the key in front of him, tears streaming down her cheeks the night he finally became a werewolf. She was the only one he truly let in, who he let see the real him, not the tough guy facade he displayed for everyone else. And now she was just another part of his past, another person he'd probably never see again, a memory that would fade over time as he would inevitably go on with his life.
So, why would he want to buy that plane ticket to Beacon Hills? Just to be reminded yet again of the things he left behind and could never have? Just to twist the knife in the wound? He'd be better off not having to think about his past ever again. This was his opportunity to start something new, something better. This was his opportunity to be someone better. Jackson pulled the key out from his pocket, holding it between himself and the window, his steel blue eyes fixed on the golden object. He squeezed it in his fist and threw it clear across the room. The key ricocheted off a wall before falling on the hardwood floor.
A tear went down Jackson's cheek. "Fuck!" he screamed, banging his fist against the glass. He turned around, dropping to the floor. Closing his eyes, he brought his palms to his face. Ah he breathed heavily, he felt a warm liquid dripping down from his forehead. The smell was unmistakable: it was blood. His blood. He looked at his hands and saw that his claws were out. "Pull it together." Jackson grunted, trying to get a hold of himself, trying not to let his feelings get the best of him. He knew he didn't have things as under control as he assured Derek during the summer, but what other choice did he have. He couldn't just go to his father and say "Oh, by the way, can we hold off the move for a couple of more full moons? It's nothing serious, just that I'm a werewolf now and might accidentally murder everyone. But really, it's no problem, you should have seen me before, when I was a giant, homicidal lizard!". He reminded himself that he was strong, that he could control it.
The wound from his forehead was already healed, and a couple of deep breaths later, his claws retracted. But he did need to go to the bathroom and wash the blood of his face and hands. As he made his way to his private bathroom (score!), Jackson stopped to look at the key, which lay on the floor in a corner. He bent down to pick it up and a floorboard creaked as he stepped on it. "Great. And here I thought this place would be an upgrade." Jackson knelt and took a closer look. He could see scratches on the side of the floorboard. It wouldn't even be noticeable to someone who didn't have his enhanced "werewolf vision". He lifted the loose floorboard to find a small hidden compartment underneath. Inside it, a wooden box. Dust flew in the air as he picked it up. No lock on it or anything, no decorations, no nothing. Just a plain old boring box. Half curious, half bored, he opened the box only to find nothing inside; just more dust.
"More junk. Hope the maid will be coming around soon." Jackson said, rolling his eyes. He took the box and the key and threw them both in the bathroom garbage can.
He took off his t-shirt, throwing it on the floor and turning on the shower's hot water. Steam immediately began filling the space.
"New fucking beginnings!" he said, pulling down his jeans and stepping in the shower.