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Octavia McCall jolted awake, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as white-hot pain flared through her left forearm. It wasn't the numb ache from a bad dream or a lingering soreness; it was sharp and foreign and seemed to sink deep into her bones. She clutched her arm, her heart racing, her gaze darting around the dark room.
The dim red numbers of her clock read 2:00 a.m., casting an eerie glow that barely reached the edges of her shadowy bedroom. Outside, the street lights flickered erratically as if affected by an unseen force. She looked down at her arm, half-expecting a bruise or a scrape, some mark that might explain this strange, relentless ache. But there was nothing. Only the pulsing pain, each throb as vivid as a heartbeat in her arm.
The next morning, she dragged herself to class, feeling foggy, half-asleep, and out of her body. The pain had dulled, but it clung to her, a nagging ache that didn't quite belong to her, as though she were carrying it for someone else. There was something else, too—an unsettling sense of unease that had settled in her stomach, twisting with each tick of the clock.
As her history teacher handed out the graded exam, Octavia could barely pay attention. Her surroundings felt strangely distant, as if she were behind a glass wall. She kept absently rubbing her arm, but the sensation wouldn't go away. It was as if her body was trying to tell her something she couldn't understand. She tried to shake off the thought, but a prickling sensation lingered at the back of her mind.
"I don't know!" Scott's frustrated voice momentarily snapped her out of her fog, jolting her back to the present. She blinked and found herself staring at her brother, who was glowering at Stiles. The world sharpened briefly, but the clarity slipped away as quickly as it had come, replaced by that persistent fogginess.
Stiles caught her vacant look and raised an eyebrow. His concern was evident as he glanced at her, but she barely noticed. Her history test was returned with a bright red 'A' circled at the top, yet she couldn't bring herself to care. Her mind was miles away, the ache in her arm oddly sharp again, nagging at her like a memory she couldn't quite reach.
When the final bell rang, Stiles nudged her out of the classroom, his hand steady on her back as he guided her down the crowded hallways. She followed in silence, offering only faint nods and tired smiles. She felt like she was walking through water, everything muted and distant. As they reached his Jeep, she absentmindedly brushed her fingers over her left forearm again, tracing the outline of an ache that wasn't there.
A strange chill ran down her spine as they pulled out of the parking lot, settling in her chest. It was almost... familiar, though she had no idea why. Her stomach twisted, a feeling she couldn't explain tugging at her as if calling her attention somewhere she couldn't see.
"Derek," she mumbled, the name slipping out without thought.
Stiles's foot slammed on the brake, and the Jeep lurched to a sudden halt as a figure appeared in front of them. Octavia's heart jumped as Derek Hale came into view, stumbling into the road with one arm raised weakly, his face pale and hollowed.
