Prophecy || Teen Wolf

Chapter One

The minute she regained consciousness was the minute she felt as if she had been hit ten times by a 100 pound truck. Adding to her splitting headache and her aching body, the pain so bad she could barely open her eyes, the effort draining her of the little energy she had, was a wave of confusion and unfamiliarity. She didn't have to open her eyes to know she wasn't where she last remembered, in the woods - she could smell it, she could sense it. Panic set in her immediately, thick and consuming, and as she tried to move and open her eyes, her body grew weak and weary quickly, and she fell off what appeared to be a metal table and landed flat on her face. She landed hard and with a loud thud, and as soon as she landed voices arose.

"She's awake!" Someone yelled out, there was the sound of the door slamming open and multiple footsteps rushing towards her. She felt arms reaching out to grab her, and she tried her best to fight them off, but she was just too weak, so she went limp and allowed them to pick her up and place her back on the table. 

"Hey, can you hear me? Can you respond?" Someone was shaking her slightly, and even tough her eyes were closed, she could feel the warmth of a torch lit up directly in front of her face.

She tried to say something and move, but it came out a mumble and a twitch. 

"She's extremely weak," a voice concluded, male, and by the sounds of it, a doctor. He spoke in such a calming, confident way that only a doctor could master. When she realized this, she began to panic all over again. Whoever had found her had taken her to a hospital. She was weak and unable to hide or defend herself. If Adam came to take her home right then, she would've gone within the blink of an eye, tired and half conscious, being dragged without being able to put up much of a fight.

She tried to open her eyes, eyelashes fluttering open for a few seconds before closing again. She tried talking, moving, anything to put some life in her. To no avail. Someone must've noticed her efforts.

"Isn't there something you can give her to, I don't know, wake her up? I think she's trying to say something." Another voice, once again, male. But this one sounded younger.

"I can get her coffee, double shot. I think I might have some adderall in the Jeep somewhere." Another male.

"We are not giving her coffee, Stiles," and yet, another male. She identified four male voices, one older, possibly the doctor, and three younger, one being someone named Stiles. 

"No, but the adderall might work. Stiles, can you go check your Jeep?" The doctor asked.

Stiles didn't even reply, just dashed out of the room, banging into a few things on the way and mumbling various curse words as he did.

"Will it work?" One of the younger one's asked.

"It might. Adderall is meant to enhance energy. I don't seem to have anything that'll give her energy. This is, after all, a vet and not an actual hospital."

The veterinarian? They found a lost teenage girl bloodied and bruised with ripped clothes and no sense of direction. Why would they take her to the veterinarian and not an actual hospital, or possibly an asylum?

Within seconds she could hear the sound of the door bursting open, and assumed Stiles had returned. She was slipping into unconsciousness again, but she had to stay awake, she had to continue listening.

"Trusty Roscoe, never let's me down," Stiles said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Except for the thousand times he breaks down," someone mumbled.

"Heard that!"

"Scott, can you fetch a glass of water? Stiles, crush two of the pills and mix it in the glass. Liam, hold her head upright so it'll be easier to drink," the doctor ordered, silencing the conversation. She heard people moving about, the tap opening, someone slamming against the table on the other side of the room, and someone moving behind her and gently taking her head in their hands. She immediately tried to move away from the contact, but whimpered when it hurt, and relaxed as the boy placed a hand behind her neck and the other supporting the back of her head. She didn't mean to react that way - she just did. Instinct, bad experiences with physical contact, everything played apart in the way she reacted. She had the kid of instinct that doesn't let you trust people so easily, even when you should, especially after they possibly just saved your life.