Worlds Apart (Teen Wolf)

14- Dark Magic

Startled, as if I haven't breathed for years, I wake with a jolt, gasping for a breath. My torso springs up from the ground, and nothing could have prepared me to have my head slam into something cushioned inches away from my head. My head falls back down on something soft. I spread my arms out, only to hit them against more lining. I blink my eyes rapidly. Unfortunately, they don't adjust to the darkness surrounding me. Everything is pitch black.

I hesitantly raise my hands in the air in front of me, waiting until I feel the cushioned lining again. About eight inches above my body, I feel the lining again. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic heart. I pause for a second. I can feel the lining of whatever I am in. The lining is smooth and slick, like silk. Fighting back a smile, I rub my hands all over the lining. If I knew I wasn't trapped in something, I would be thrilled with the idea that I can suddenly feel again, but I am trapped. I need to figure out how to get out.

Forming a fist, I slam it against the top, screaming. I try to shift around as much as I can, but this thing is too tight for me to do anything. My chest rapidly moves up and down from my erratic breathing. My eyes fill with tears from frustration.

"No!" I scream at the top of my lungs, banging my palms at the top.

I shut my eyes in attempt to transport myself somewhere else. I open my eyes, expecting to find myself back in Lydia's room, but I'm still enclosed in this box. It didn't work. Why didn't it work?

"Stiles? Lydia?" I call out.

Something's not right.

I pat my chest down, remembering the pain I had felt earlier. I feel around on my chest, feeling nothing but a soft shirt. No blood or anything. I rub the soft cotton material between my fingers. God, I have missed being able to feel things.

I slam my hand against the top again. "Damn it!"

The air is hot, stale almost. A light layer of sweat coats my body, suddenly making me wonder where I am exactly. All I remember is being in Lydia's room after fighting with Stiles and feeling a sharp pain in my chest.

"Allison." I whisper. She said she did something. A witch did something. I knew werewolves existed, but the idea of witches existing never crossed my mind. That's, like, a whole new level of the supernatural world.

I clench my hands into fists, screaming out in aggravation. What the hell is going on? Why am I trapped in this thing? Why can I suddenly feel things again? Did whatever the witch did work? Am I alive again? If so, then why the hell am I trapped in a box? I- Oh, my God.

"Oh, my God." I whisper out loud to myself. I feel all around myself, finding nothing but some kind of cushioned lining. Feeling as if a panic attack is coming along, I squeeze my eyes shut, thinking of Stiles. I suck in a deep breath of the hot, stale air. "Coffin. I'm in my coffin." I realize.

I slam my hands against the top of the coffin, terrified. I'm buried six feet under dirt in my coffin. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God." I whisper to myself, freaking out.

That witch may have brought me back to life, if that's what I actually am, then what good is any of this if I'm locked in my coffin? I'm pretty sure my body would have been decomposed by now. Maybe it didn't work. But, that wouldn't explain why I am six feet under. Wouldn't I just wake up where I was in Lydia's room?

"Lydia!" I scream as loudly as I can. If anyone can help me, it's my banshee friend. "Lydia!"

Overwhelmed with so many feelings, I punch the top of my coffin repeatedly. I gasp from the pain I feel after punching it so much. I sadly laugh at the pain. I feel pain again.