The Vampire of Beacon-Hills [ENGLISH VERSION]

S3b : Chapter Thirty-five

ELENA'S POV :

Apparently the coyote's father has covered the forest with traps. He thinks the coyote is responsible for the death of his family and wants to kill him. We're going to have to find Malia quickly to turn her back into a human.

"We were left off with the internment camps and the fate of prisoners of war," Mr. Yukimura begins.

I had almost forgotten about history class.

"There's a passage in our textbook that I'd like us to look at in more detail. Who would like to come read it out loud ? Why not you, Mr. Stilinski ?"

Oh no...

"Um... maybe someone else-"

"I'd like to read if it's possible," I ask the teacher, aware of Stiles' problem.

"Next time. Mr. Stilinski."

He gets up and walks over to the desk to read the excerpt. He looks at the book, at the words, but I have the distinct impression that his reading problem hasn't been resolved. I see him close his eyes tightly and listen to the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat accelerating. He doesn't seem well. He's having trouble breathing, standing up properly. I look at Scott, just as worried before straightening up.

"Sir, maybe I should take him to the infirmary."

"Okay, go on" our teacher agrees.

I walk over to him and support him to take him to the locker room, where I know we won't be disturbed. He pulls away from me and holds onto the sink, looking at himself in the mirror.

"This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't-"

"Stiles, you're awake, okay. You're not dreaming."

"No, you... you're not... you're not real," he repeats. "I'm sleeping."

I try to get closer, but he backs away.

"Don't come any closer ! Stay where you are."

I hold up my hands to show him that I'm cooperating and won't come any closer.

"Stiles, breathe. You're having an anxiety attack."

He takes a deep breath and slides down the wall, holding his head, panting. I slowly approach and kneel in front of him.

"I did some research for you." When you're dreaming you have more fingers so count with me.

I place my hands out in plain sight as he raises his head.

"Stiles, count with me."

We take the time to count my fingers one by one, which seems to help him focus on a single piece of information.

"10 fingers," I say once I get to the last one. "See ? I'm here. I'm real. And I'll never leave you no matter what."

His breathing has calmed down. He looks into my eyes, listening to every word I say before nodding.