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...🌙...
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒
𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟏
A beep and muffled voices reached my ears, dragging me from unconsciousness. My brows scrunched, and a groan escaped my lips, thick with pain. Every breath felt like shards of glass slicing through my chest. I felt a hand touch my arm, its warmth cutting through the cold haze.
As my eyes fluttered open, another hand gripped my other arm tightly. I knew it would leave a bruise later. My lips parted in a silent grimace, and I tried to jerk away, but my body was unresponsive, frozen in place.
"Help me."
A piercing scream tore through the fog, and my eyes snapped open. The machines around me beeped rapidly, but I ignored them. My eyes were glued to the burned hands gripping my arms. My gaze traveled upward in horror, landing on Peter. His face was a mess of burns, making him almost unrecognizable, but I knew it was him.
"HELP ME!" he screamed, his voice raw and desperate.
One of his hands left my arm and plunged into the wound in my shoulder. Pain exploded, and a scream ripped from my throat, filled with pure agony and terror. Even as Peter let go and stepped away from the bed, my fear remained uncontrollable, surging with every breath I took.
"Romy!" a voice called out, hands gripping my arms and shaking me gently.
I blinked, and Raven's concerned eyes filled my vision.
I looked around frantically, but Peter was gone. Instead, my eyes met Bastian's on the other side of the bed, and my brows frowned in confusion.
"Romy, breathe!" Raven yelled, her voice cutting through the haze.
I blinked again, realizing I had stopped screaming, but my fear had morphed into a full-blown panic attack.
My chest heaved, and I struggled to catch my breath. Raven and Bastian's worried faces hovered over me, their presence both grounding and suffocating.
I needed something or someone to pull me back from the edge. If I didn't find one, I would pass out, and the thought of seeing Peter again terrified me. I gripped Bastian's hand, my eyes pleading with him.
"Stiles," I choked out.
Bastian furrowed his brows. "No, he's the reason you're hurt."
"For the love of god," Raven grumbled, stepping away.
I clung to Bastian's hand, my panic making my grip vise-like.
I didn't just want Stiles. I needed him, though I couldn't explain why.
