Tether ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [2]

fourteen

"Why would he do that? Why would he do that?"

Beside me, Allison was frantic. In the aftermath of the attack, Isaac had blinked back into consciousness and shaken Stiles awake again to help. They came to, simply to find a scene of two dark-haired girls crying and holding each other.

With strenuous grunts of effort, Isaac used his werewolf strength to grip at the chain holding us in place and pull. The metal bent like plastic and eventually gave way to the strain.

Freed from the cuffs, I rubbed my wrist that was now red and inflamed. I shook my head in near denial. "He planned it. He knew the whole time we came here, that's what he meant to do."

"But why?" Allison cried.

I felt more exhausted than I had in a very long time.

When Isaac offered to go check for a scent in the rest of the bank, and Allison grabbed the gun our father had dropped to hurry out after him, I didn't have the energy in me to tell them it was useless.

Chris Argent was gone, just like the other parents. And there was nothing we could do about it.

Stiles had pulled me into a hug, but his usually steady hold had broken down. I could feel the shakes of his body. He was tremoring.

"She has all three," he murmured, his voice coming out pained. The shaking got worse and his breath began to heave in fast shallow cycles.

I could feel his grip tighten on my arms, and I latched onto him, helping him balance as his knees seemed to give out from under him, sending us both folding to the floor.

"Stiles," I kept my voice gentle and calm. His eyes were blinking fast, the tremors of his body not letting up.

"I think- " Stiles let out a short cough, inhaling with a violent wheeze and shaking his head. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

"We'll sit down, okay?" I nodded, attempting to ease him back to sit comfortably, keeping a reassuring hold on him as his hands gripped to my arms even tighter. We sat together, half in an embrace, but he wouldn't meet my eye.

"I can't breathe."

"I'm here, Stiles, I'm here, look at me," I spoke as softly as I could. I needed to stay solid, composed. He glanced at me a few times but the look on his face proved he was straining to focus, rocking back and forth in my arms slightly to self soothe. "We still have time, okay? It's not the eclipse yet and now we know that if I'm some omen, I would've felt something if it was too late. I don't feel anything like that. We have time, Stiles. Just- just try to slow your breathing."

"I c-can't."

I took in a deep breath.

"Do you remember last year when you punched Jackson in the face?"

At my words, he was thrown off and his rocking stopped. He was still struggling to breathe and was panting heavily, but finally, he was looking into my eyes. They were filled with panic, yes, but also deep confusion.

"What?" Stiles choked out.

"You hit him right across the jaw with the sharpest hook I've ever seen," I tried to smile. "It was amazing."

"I-I don't-"

"Do you remember what else you did that night?" I asked softly, and he didn't respond so I pressed on. "It was the night we thought we were being chased through the school by Derek. I panicked for the first time since I got to Beacon Hills, in front of everyone."

He nodded slightly, taking in more rapid, shaky breaths.

"You held my hand and told me to focus on my breathing. Stiles, that night, you helped me keep going. The odds seemed like they were stacked against us and I had never felt so trapped before. But you made me feel like I was going to get through it, and I did. We all did. Like you're going to get through this too."