absolution ☾teen wolf [slow updates]

zero [prologue]

Someone once said that it's the smallest things that can change your life forever.

One second, one fraction of time is all it takes. One action from one person. A push of a button, a fleeting glance between two people, a choice to do something contrastingly.

All it takes to turn your life around - whether for better or for worse - is an otherwise insignificant decision.

And sometimes, that tiny difference might lead on to something bigger, spawning a chain reaction in your life. You'll start to see yourself grow and develop and evolve as a human being; you'll see things in a new light.

For Aubrey Mitchell, all it took for her life to change was a variation in the weather.

The roads were icy, which they hadn't been for a couple of weeks, and icy roads meant careful driving. Careful driving meant not hitting the speed limit, which was never something Aubrey's father was good at.

"Dad, I can literally feel the wheels skidding." She vocalised the worries that were running through her mind, staring out at the bleak landscape of Minnesota. "Please, can we slow down a little?"

Looking reluctant, Paul Mitchell replied, "honey, we've gotta be home in an hour so that I can catch my plane out to Vermont." He caught his daughter's eye in the rear-view mirror, and sighed as he ever-so-slightly inched his foot off of the acceleration.

Aubrey's mom chuckled, and turned in her seat to mouth the words 'he's a maniac' at her daughter, who giggled quietly.

Paul muttered, "Jean, get back in your seat, babe. Bree, stop distracting me while I'm driving."

Jean Mitchell complied to her husband's request, and Aubrey grumbled to herself, trying to ignore the way that her stomach was flipping over. It was making her feel nauseous.

Barely five minutes later, her mom spoke up again. "Paul, for God's sake, stop driving like a psychopath!"

"Thank you, mom!" Aubrey crowed, punching her father lightly on the shoulder.

The words had barely left her mouth when she noticed just how much the wheels were sliding and skidding on the black ice of the highway.

The smallest things can change your life forever.

Aubrey watched as her father's eyes left the road to make a snappy retort at her mother. She watched as her parents bickered, not paying attention to the road. She watched out of the window as the truck driving next to them skidded, its wheels rotating left and right as it tried to keep control.

She watched, but she didn't have time to warn her parents about the oncoming danger.

One moment, all was okay. Her parents' voices filled the car with noise, clashing with the radio that blared out some fuzzy old song. But barely a second later, it was like nothing would ever be okay again.

The truck skidded just too far to the left, and collided with the small, red car next to it, sending it over the edge of the highway. Aubrey felt the impact, heard her parents gasp, and somehow knew what was to come. She heard a scream as the glass of her window shattered on impact, and felt a tearing sensation on the right side of her forehead down to her cheekbone as the car swerved off of the road. There was an awful sound of buckling metal as the car rolled onto its side and down a small hill.

Aubrey shrieked out a swear word as her head collided painfully with the roof of the car, driving the glass deeper into her skin. Her dad was yelling, the car was roaring, her mom was oddly silent, and she couldn't stop screaming. She felt like her forehead was on fire with the amount of pain shooting through it.

As the bashed and abused car made its final crash, down into the snowy field beyond the highway, Aubrey felt a new, blisteringly white-hot pain in her leg. A loud crack echoed throughout the car - it was broken. But it was over. The crash was over.

She heard car doors slamming, a choked gasp from her father, and shouts from foreign voices, unknown to her. But all she could focus on was the way that her mother was sprawled, half hanging out of the car and onto the windshield. Her blood was dripping onto the hood, mingling with the shards of broken glass and droplets of melted ice, like a beautiful and terrible piece of art. Not moving. Dead.

Aubrey managed to tear her eyes away from her mother, looking instead to her father, whose tears were streaming down his face, and she winced, placing her hand on her forehead. It was sticky. Why was it sticky? When she brought her hand in front of her eyes, all she could see was red. Red. Blood. So much blood.

Trying to move was futile, for she could barely fidget an inch without giving out a raw, bloodcurdling scream of agony. There wasn't just agony in her leg, and her head. She felt like her heart was tearing in two as she stared between her father and her mother.

"Bree! You have to get out! Get out! Aubrey!"

What was her father saying? Why was he backing away from the car? Maybe he thought she was dying, too, Aubrey thought to herself, managing to drag herself over to the car door and choking on her cries in the process.

That was when she smelt it. Smoke. Burning. Singeing. Something was on fire.

The whole car was on fire. Orange light danced in front of Aubrey's eyes, taunting and tantalising her as it swayed close to her. Too close - a tongue of fire licked up her t-shirt and stayed there, burning away the fabric.

Another cuss left Aubrey's mouth as she shot from the car, somehow managing to ignore the splintering agony in her leg and sprawling onto the icy grass of the field. The ice mixed with broken glass, so that she couldn't tell icicle from shard.

The only thing that registered in Aubrey's mind was the torture of her skin cells, as each movement of the flame sent a new burn exploding into her nerves, sending paroxysms of torment through her chest.

Her father was smacking at the fire, putting it out, and he was sobbing as the wail of an ambulance sounded in the distance, and Aubrey thought he might have said her name, but she was already unconscious.

The smallest things can change your life forever. Little did Aubrey know, that the changes in her life had only just begun.