↳𝐘/𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 is forced to move to Beacon Hills, after things look up for her brother Jordan. She is terrified of the thing that keeps growing inside of her, whilst she cluelessly watches. She seeks for help from a little pack, yet someone i...
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♧︎𝐘/𝐍
"They're coming back so we don't have much time to talk." Deaton warned. "Y/n I need you to grab the book by the table, read it, it has everything you need to know about your symptoms and your kind. I hope it is at least."
I grabbed the book slowly and carefully, petrified from the dead body on the table that was slashed into pieces. Deaton tended to Scott's wounds. "You'll heal the same, just not as quickly because of Derek. The rubbing alcohol will keep it from getting infected."
"Hold on, how do you know all this?" I asked, truly curious. How can a human veterinarian know this much about the supernatural world.
"It's a long story. What I can tell you is that I know about your kind. Your kind, I can help." He mumbled whilst ripping the medical tape. "This...This is something different." He looked towards the body with pure apprehension.
"Do you know what did it?" Scott asked. "No. But the Argents will. And this is the crucial part, they'll have some kind of record or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations of all the things that they've discovered." He explained nervously.
"Like a memoir?" I suggested. "Yes. With all the creatures they discovered." He confirmed.
"How many different things are there?" Scott questioned. I heard a car pulling up to the front of the clinic. "Scott we need to leave. Now." I declared.
—
Stiles dragged me to the mechanic with him to get his car fixed after Erica totaled it.
I was at the front desk, waiting whilst he talked to the mechanic. He walked through the door leading to the front desk.
"Real sanitary." He scoffed. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Just some gross goop on the door handle." He rolled his eyes.
He wiped his hands on his jacket repeatedly, then proceeded to pull out his phone. But he dropped it. "Can we go now!?" I whined. "Uh...Y/n." He mumbled.
"Yeah?"
"I can't move my hands." He fretted. "What?" I asked, inching closer to where he was standing.
"Just try lifting your finger or something." I suggested. "Oh gee! Why didn't I think of that?" He remarked.
"Now's really not the time, Stiles." I huffed, clearly listless from our infinite bickering. He started breathing loudly and unevenly.
"Stiles...listen to my voice. Calm your breathing." I eased. "Take one long breath in through your nose, an one long breath out through your mouth."
