Alone • Liam Dunbar

Seven

A metal-covered fist connected with my cheek before I had a chance to try and compose myself after the last punch.

"Stop, stop." I panted, holding my hand up in front of me as my back hit a wall. I would've run if I could, but we were in a confined space. Kate's body blocked the door to prevent any possibility of me leaving the training room she locked us inside of. 

"Stop?" Kate echoed, coming closer to me, her tall frame towering over my cowering figure.

My sweat and blood had mixed together all over my body as the lesson of the day took its toll. Kate wanted me to be able to handle the impact of a werewolf's punch, so she decided it would be best to learn by replicating their stiff hits with brass knuckles. 

Thankfully, it was only on one hand, but it had been her dominant one, and she was relentless.

"If we stop you die. How do you not understand that?" She snaps harshly. "You think if you get caught with a Beta in the middle of the woods and ask them to stop they'll just do it?" 

Her words stung because I knew they were true, but my body begged for relief.

Kate squatted down in front of me, her weaponized hand hanging off her thigh. I tried to pretend it wasn't coated with my blood. 

"Get up now and learn how to take it. You'll thank me for it one day." She stood back up and flexed her fingers in the brass knuckles, waiting for me to make a move.

I closed my eyes and took a breath before pressing back against the wall, using that to help me get up. My lips were busted on either side, my nose was bleeding, and there was a cut above my left eye, but I straightened myself out nonetheless.

I bit my lip, drawing out the metallic taste to help me grip reality. There was nothing left for me but this, but blood. This was who I had to be now, and what I had to endure with Kate's bitter lessons. 

She was right, I had to take it.

---

I jolt awake as the memory fades from my mind. 

If sleep wasn't a necessary thing for human survival, I would never do it. I often dreamt of Kate and her aggressive training tactics. The nights when I dreamt of nothing but black were always preferred.

The motel I lived in was always quiet at this hour in the morning. It was too early for the people having affairs to be sneaking into their rooms, and too late for those who stayed up all night partying with substances they couldn't use at home. 

I hadn't moved, still laying on the lumpy chunk of fabric padding and springs that were supposed to be a mattress. Sometimes after I dreamt of Kate, I found it hard to function, and now that there was a chance she would haunt me while I was awake, that feeling of dread only lasted longer. 

After the other night, we all waited for her to appear again, but she never did. That didn't provide me with any comfort, because Derek's eyes hadn't returned to normal either. That made me feel as though Kate wasn't done with him yet, or the rest of us. 

I forced myself to get out of bed and push thoughts of her away. 

If I missed a day of school, it would result in Scott coming to the motel to drag me to some sort of weird study night with him and Stiles, and I resented that. It was admittedly painful to get up, bruises forming on my back after the Berserker slammed me into the ground, but I bore the pain. 

I got dressed after washing up, choosing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a thin shirt, that way my body wouldn't be constricted by tight fabric. I also slid on my padded black-and-white motocross jacket, placing a dagger into each interior pocket on either side of my chest.