Barely Breathing | Book Three/Season Three A

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chapter 1

know it's for the better? no, it's for the better.

Things have been different since the change. Scott tries to act like it doesn't affect him, but I know that all he sees when he looks at me is someone who I used to be. Someone that died. 

Stiles is as supportive as ever, almost as if it never happened, which bothers me more than anything else. They like to pretend I didn't die and come back to life with an insatiable hunger for blood. I can't.

Everywhere I go; every person I hug...it's torture. I can quite literally hear their blood pumping through their veins, and it takes everything in me not to rip out their throat. I'm miserable, and I don't know what to do.

It feels like I'm standing still in a hallway where everyone else is walking around me, refusing to acknowledge my presence. The world is going on without me. Mentally, I'm still in that abandoned church, fighting for my life and failing.

I rise from my desk where I was preparing my supplies for the upcoming school year, walking over to my picture board and looking at all of the pictures from before the supernatural world came into play. From a time when I had no clue that there was any problem greater than losing my homework assignment.

I snap out of my thoughts as three soft knocks sound at my door, catching my attention. Reluctantly, I sigh and make my way over to the door, opening it to reveal Scott with a soft smile on his face.

"What's up?" I ask, trying to sound cheerful. He steps around me and into my room, flopping down onto my made up bed.

"Stiles is about to pick me up. He's taking me to get the tattoo." Scott informs me, sitting up from his laying position. I nod my head while I stand in front of my door, knowing what he's asking but not knowing what my answer is yet. "Wanna come?" 

"Uh...sure." I answer without thinking. He stands up quickly and smiles, walking over to me and bringing me into a tight hug.

"I'm glad you're doing better." He says with a sigh of relief. He's referring to the summer that I spent holed up in my room, staring at my walls and reading everything I could find about vampire-werewolf hybrids.

When the first full moon came after being turned, I expected nothing to happen. I expected to be a vampire, not a werewolf.

You can imagine my surprise when I started to shift that night. I was even more shocked when my entire body changed into an actual wolf. While it was terrifying, I've also never felt freer than I have the past two full moons with no worries, the only thing on my mind being the leaves crunching underneath my feet-or paws, I guess. That's just weird to think about.

"Yup, I'm all better." I say, pushing away from the hug, not being able to stand the smell of his blood without indulging in it. 

"He'll be here in ten." Then, he leaves, heading to his own room. I shut the door behind him and lean against the wood, wondering what I just got myself into.

Stiles and I have been distant. He checks on me every day, every few hours. We hung out a few times, but I've avoided him since due to my incessant need to sink my teeth into his corraded artery. 

I push off of the door and make my way over to my closet, picking out a normal purple tank top and then heading to my dresser where I choose a pair of low-rise denim shorts that stop right at my hips under my belly button.

Once I put on the two pieces of clothing, I brush out my wavy hair while staring blankly at myself in the mirror, not a thought in my mind other than how I'm going to interact with Stiles and Scott again.