Midnight Scarlet » Stilinski

Fourteen

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                                                       Chapter Fourteen

                                                               • Stiles •

This is the longest night of my life. From the time Aubrey is wheeled around the corner on a gurney, her eyes conveying her fear, to when the nurse comes out and says that I can see her, my heart never beats in my chest. There’s just me alone, wide awake, unable to calm my ragged breathing or control my pessimistic thoughts.

            Why isn’t she healing? Is she going to be okay in human hands? What’s so different about her that makes Peter want her so much?

            But most of all, my worry is this: How much time does she have left?

       Though Peter thinks that she knows something, I’m almost completely positive that she doesn’t. While I’m sure she holds information she’s not telling us, I honestly don’t think she knows why the alpha pack suddenly arrived in Beacon Hills. Still, something strange is going on― the reappearance of the kanima, Lydia’s subsequent disappearance, the strange dead body in the woods― and I have a feeling that soon, all hell’s going to break loose.

            I know the way to Aubrey’s hospital room well; it’s like retracing the path up to my front door. She is staying in the same room that Lydia stayed in just a few months ago, and the same room that Lydia vanished in. I pause at the snack machine, hesitant about continuing. What if Aubrey isn’t okay?

            What if she doesn’t have any time left?

           Making up my mind, I raise my hand and knock lightly. A soft voice greets me as I peer inside, much too pleasant to belong to Aubrey. But the voice is Aubrey’s, and the sight of her makes my eyes widen. I make my way over and perch lightly on the covers, careful not to jostle the bed.

            “How are you feeling?” I ask the question because it’s a typical greeting, though I know she can’t be feeling great. After all, she looks worn out, her forehead pasted with sweat and her entire head bandaged. I’m expecting her usual sarcastic reply that already drives me insane― even though I’ve known her for less than twenty-four hours, really― but it never comes.

        Instead, she gives me a genuine smile, even if it is small. “Hey, Stiles.” She laughs at something, though I can’t find anything that’s funny. “Stiles is such a funny name, don’t you think? Who came up with it?”

            “My mom, I think.”

            She reaches her finger out and pokes my cheek; I notice that it trembles slightly. “She had a creative mind. Stiles isn’t exactly a normal name. I’m thinking it’s not on that Top 100 baby names list or whatever. She probably didn’t Google it. How did she come up with the name?”

            I honestly don’t know the answer to her question― my mom never told me, and she isn’t something that we talk about at home. My dad never actually said that he didn’t want to mention Mom, but it’s our unspoken rule. Like somehow if we don’t talk about her, she’s still in the house with us, not sick. Anyway, I change the subject.

            “Bree, did they give you something before the surgery? Any anesthesia or anything?”

         She turns to face me completely, her fingers gripping the pillow. She doesn’t show it, but I know she’s still in pain; her fingertips are white from grasping the pillow so hard. “This one nurse came up to me right… right after they took me from you and she injected me with something. I felt funny, and then I didn’t feel anything at all. I don’t remember what happened after that.”