People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
Kinsey couldn't speak on...
The brunette tossed and turned in her sheets, slowly becoming knotted up in them as she tried to get comfortable, a task easier said than done in the past few weeks. Every night was the same since completing the sacrifice, sleepless nights, all ending up with her jolting upright in her bed barely able to catch her breath. It didn't matter whose bed she slept in or who slept beside her, the nightmares were persistent, and she had tried. Whether it was Allison or Lydia in the space beside her, sometimes even both of them, the nightmares prevailed. All of her attempts to block them out failed, the nightmares had too much fun tormenting her, playing on her deepest fears, which apparently, she had more of than she thought.
Usually, she found herself reliving what had happened to her in the sixteen hours she had been classified as dead. She woke up in the same bedroom, scanning over the same photo of her and Peter, walking down the same narrow halls of the Hale house as she looked at the pictures on the wall and even her conversation with Talia. All of the details were the same, not a single piece of it was missing, it was as if she was there again, a strong sense of deja vu. And just like she had in her sacrifice, she ended up in the car beside her aunt on that late night of January 9th when she moved to this town.
There was only one difference Kinsey had found between the reality and the dreams she had been having. In her dreams she had been with Talia for just a second longer, giving the woman just enough time to say one more thing. Kinsey still didn't know what her aunt meant by it, but in every dream, she gave her the same parting message before she ended up in the car with her aunt again. Talia would place a hand on her arm, looking her straight in the eye as she said the words. Chaos will come again. But she didn't get to experience that dream every night, when she didn't find herself back in the Hale house her mother would often make an appearance in her nightmares, but to Kinsey, that was considered normal. Ever since Kate's death, she had played a lead role in her daughter's dreams. Occasionally, she found herself looking in her reflection only to see her own eyes had been replaced with those of a werewolf like she had seen at Glen Capri. Those were the kind of nightmares she could handle, the ones that only slightly terrified her, all she had to do was learn to wake up without having to hold in a horrified scream.
Slowly giving up on the idea of a peaceful sleep Kinsey sat up in bed with a mumble.
"Stiles?" Her voice muttered hoarsely. The boy was already sitting up beside her, clearly, he was having as much of a sleepless night as she was. Her head rested on his shoulder as she gently rubbed his forearm, trying to comfort him. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I was just dreaming." He nodded slightly, placing his hand on top of hers. "It was weird. It was like a dream within a dream." The boy continued to explain in a low mumble, careful not to speak too loud and wake up his father in the next room.
