Lose Your Mind | Stiles Stilinksi DISCONTINUED

Chapter Fourteen

|Stiles's POV|

"Do you believe in werewolves?" I repeat myself, wanting to burry these words in her head. It was a stretch, but there was something about Hunter. Her essence. The way she views and talks about things. It was interesting, and she might just be analytical enough to actually believe the words coming out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry, come again?" she states blankly, staring at me. She probably didn't realize it, but she slid down the cold metal bench of the van away from me and with her back against the wall.

"Your not stupid, Hunter. Just answer me," I say annoyed.

"I- I mean-" she stutters.

"Hunter!"

"Okay! Oh my God. It's just- let's be real for a second. This is Beacon Hills. The weirdest town on the planet. I know your dad is the sheriff. And I know about more than half of the cases that go unsolved around here. That's not his fault though. He's a good sheriff, but sometimes I think that there's more to the story than the human eye can see," she pauses. "Unless you have connections with the supernatural."

I raise my eyebrows. Her stare was quick but could not be missed. "So..."

"Stiles, I'm going to tell you something that I've never told anyone about. It's something that I discovered with my roommate Meredith's help-"

"Meredith?" I question as she veers away from what I originally asked her.

"You mean the crazy girl who talks to herself. I swear, if I had her as a roommate I would probably kill s-" Hunter didn't let me finish.

"She's not crazy!" she snaps, and I look at my hands. "If you think that bad of her then I probably shouldn't tell you what I was going to say," her arms crossed.

"Wait, no! I'm sorry. Being stuck in the asylum with a bunch of interesting people just hasn't sunk in yet. Please tell me," I beg.

"She's not crazy. Far from it, actually. And if she is crazy, then I guess that would make me crazy too," she sighs. "Meredith has a special... ability. This ability is something I also happen to have."

"Which is..." I push on.

"She, we, can hear things. Things normal people can't hear. Things normal people shouldn't be able to hear. And it creeps the hell out of me. Voices in my head. Night and day. Whispering horrible, terrible things that give me nightmares and have me waking up gasping for breath every night," her voice shakes.

"What do they say?" I dare to ask. Her head violently shakes. She rocks back and forth muttering to herself.

"No, no, no. I- just no. It's too much. I can't let myself believe what they'll say. They'll-"

I shut Hunter up and put an arm around her. She sobs into my soulder, soaking my shirt as her head resting in my chest. I didn't bother speaking for a moment, allowing her to gather her bearings. "I'm sorry I asked," I whisper.

"It's not your fault. You must think I'm a freak now after what I told you."

"Of course not."

"You will after I tell you this," she says taking a deep breath. "I predicted my own grandfather's death.

"You what?" I say, dumbfounded.

"The voices. They told me things. I didn't want to believethem, but they were right. My grandfather, Gerard. Death by werewolf and mountain ash."

"Wait a minute," I say. Hunter looks up at me. "You said his name was Gerard?"

"Mmhm," Hunter nods.