Something To Think About. (Teen Wolf)

35

Tick. Punch. One.

Tock. Punch. Two.

Tick. Punch. Three.

Tock. Punch. Four.

My hands were blistering and my face was dripping with sweat but I didn't stop. Images flashed through my head, making me angrier and therefore making me hit harder and harder. My face in the mirror with my fangs out and my eyes glowing; Stiles shock when he first saw me turn; my relatively-new boyfriend, my new father, and my new cousin all pinning me against the wall as I struggled to get free at the site of the human blood bag that is my best friend.

It was the memory of myself speaking horrible things to Stiles that haunted me the most. I was conscious; I knew what I was saying and I knew what I was doing but I couldn't help myself. It was like something else was speaking for me. It was like this thing that had suddenly taken home inside of me, this vampire, was purposely mocking me by forcing me to hurt the one person that couldn't protect himself against me. It was like I was becoming the one thing that I hoped I would never become; my father. And no, not my new father; my foster father. The monster that preys on the weak and defenseless. Though, looking at it now, the two aren't so different.

I kept punching the bag that was hanging in front of me, even though my knuckles had begun to bleed. My new hearing intensified the sound of the ticking clock so that it was pounding in my ears and making me angrier than I thought possible. It made my skin crawl and my nails dug into the palms of my hands as I squeezed my fists tighter together in an attempt to ignore the drumming in my ears that reminded me so much of a heartbeat. I tried to compose myself, to control myself because if I could control myself from tearing apart an inanimate clock, maybe I could control myself from tearing apart my best friend and every other human that I come in contact with.

But I couldn't do it. Finally, I snapped. My eyes visibly shifted to their familiar deep orange hue that let people know that Ryder wasn't in control anymore. I tore myself away from the punching bag and I stormed over to the wall. I ripped the machine from where it hung and I grabbed both sides of its face. I gathered up my strength and bent its body until it could bend no further and it broke in a spray of glass and gears. I felt small pieces of its face graze mine, leaving small, clean cuts on my cheeks and nose and chin and forehead that quickly healed with ease. I let the remains fall to the floor below me and more pieces came loose, scattering in different directions. I lifted my foot and brought it back down upon the corpse. I felt the skeleton crush underneath my strength. Again, I lifted my foot. Down again. Crush. Up. Down. Crush. Up. Down. Crush. My eyes were shut tight and I began to cry and scream as my foot lifted and fell and crushed. Up. Down. Crush. Up. Down. Crush. Over and over and over again until there was nothing left to crush; until there was nothing but small fragments left of the carcass that used to have life. My throat was beginning to feel rough and dry as my crying and screaming refused to cease. I couldn't contain myself. I finally forced my eyes upon the damage. At the sight of what I had done, the slight humanity that I possessed resurfaced and my eyes returned to their habitual green. My lips failed to contain an inhuman howl as I allowed my weakened body to sink down the same wall that the innocent clock had, until recently, called home. The broadcast of my immense pain resounded through the loft. It was not the death of a clock that upset me; it was the death of me. Not only had the ticking of the clocks heart reminded me of the pulse of a human that I could devour in seconds but also the missing heartbeat that I should have been able to feel throughout my own body. I was not human. I was not alive. I was a monster.

"Ryder?" A gentle voice spoke from somewhere in front and above me. My eyes shifted towards the voice and through my raw and dripping eyes, I could just barely make out the face of Scott McCall. I couldn't speak. My suffering had caused my voice to diminish into nothing, so when I opened my mouth all that could be heard was sorrow and regret. I took a deep breath and looked down once more as I attempted to compose myself but then failed as I started to weep recurrently. I felt a warmth settle beside me and pull me into his side. My eyes seemed to be an endless faucet; the tears wouldn't die like the rest of me. My tears seemed to be the only steady thing going on in my life at that moment. I could always count on my ability to feel sorry for myself.
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a/n: so i'm really proud of this chapter and i hope you guys like it too. i'll admit while i wrote this chapter i was listening to depressing, instrumental/classical music lol. it came easily for me to write this since a lot of the things that she feels, i have felt firsthand minus, ya know, being a hybrid (?? or have i ??) haha sorry. i know its kinda short but i'm going to start the next chapter pretty soon and i'm going to try to get ahead so i can post regularly. i'm really sorry that i haven't posted lately but i've been struggling with school and i've recently started this new medication that hasn't been making me feel too well but i am trying to get on top of things better

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