fade #2 (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 44

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF. Only Melanie and her plot lines.
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I wasn't quite sure how I had gotten here, all that I was aware of was that I was shoved into the back of a dark vehicle. And I had attempted to scream, thrash even, but there was a white cloth tied tightly around my mouth and arms. So my loud cries were unfortunately muffled, along with not being able to punch anyone in the face.

I still had my legs though, and I looked absolutely insane kicking the back of a car seat. I was basically just hoping the lunatic driving would change his mind and turn around.

And it wasn't long before we had come to a stop. A vehicle mimicking the one I had just been thrown into pulled up against a tree. And we were parked directly behind it.

The mysterious man in the front had departed his previous place, rushing around to the backseat and prying open one of two doors.

"Get out." He ordered, his voice husky and deep. I didn't recognized it, so I couldn't help but wonder if I was actually getting kidnapped. And this wasn't apart of the supernatural at all. But, to be quite honest, supernatural or not, I was horrified.

I shook my head erratically, backing up as far as I possibly could in order to somehow get away from the kidnapper. I hadn't noticed, but tears had been streaming down from my bloodshot eyes. A few pathetic whimpers following afterwards.

I attempted to shift into the wolf sewn onto the pin, which was usually located in my back pocket. But, nothing was happening. I couldn't even claw my way out of this white cloth, which was beginning to cut off the circulation in my arms.

Had I dropped it?

I didn't have much time to take really anything into consideration; due to the fact that this psychotic man obviously wouldn't take no for an answer, for he threw himself back onto the leather car seats. His hand wrapping around the collar of Stiles' sweatshirt as he basically catapulted me out of the car.

I landed ungracefully onto the grey gravel beneath me. The small shards of rock pelting my skin due to the rough fall.

But I didn't care. For all I was currently worried about was getting out of this mess. Going home to my mom, back to my friends, back to Stiles. I simply wasn't in the mood to play predator and prey. Especially if I was the prey.

I attempted to bring myself to my feet, wanting to run, skip, gallop, or even hop my way out of here. But, as I went to sprint into the woods, a large hand stopped me from doing so. The collar of Stiles' maroon sweatshirt soon meeting the mysterious man dressed in black.

I whimpered, being roughly dragged the opposite direction of my escape route. And it had to be one of the most upsetting times in my life. Of course, aside from my fathers passing.

It wasn't long before I was shoved into a house, the hand sadly not leaving my clothing as I stumbled my way further into the dark and quiet home. Not in control of my own two feet.

I couldn't tell if the house was familiar or not. Mainly due to the fact that it was dark and I was way too worried about what was next to come to intake the features of a stupid home.

I was then face to face with a beige door, not knowing at all what lurked on the other side as the man behind me wrapped his fingers around the black knob. I pursed my lips together, watching hesitantly as he pried the door open. Not being able to think twice before being flung hastily down a flight of stairs.

And I thought the gravel was painful.

As I reached the bottom, I lay motionless against the cold, cement, floor. Pain circulating about my body while tears streamed down my drained face. I couldn't help but wonder what was to come next. What torture that psychotic man in black would put me through.

I suddenly felt a warm hand rest up against my cold arm, my eyes soon springing open as I jumped about fifty feet backwards. I hadn't been alone.

Tears continued to roll down my scarlet cheeks as I struggled to back away, somewhat numb with fear. There was another person in here with me. Were they here to kill me? Torture me even?

Numerous thoughts continued to swirl about my mind as a familiar voice echoed about the basement.

"Melanie?"

I rose an eyebrow, attempting to see within the complete darkness. Was that who I believed it was?

"Stmhilems?" I tried at saying his name, but the cloth around my mouth prevented me from doing so. Therefore, I stayed in the corner, watching as who I believed was Stiles ran his hand across the wall in order to find a light source.

And he had succeeded, for light overcame the once pitch black room. I almost cried with joy as Stiles scurried over to me, beginning to untie the cloth placed tightly around my wrists and mouth.

"Oh my god– are you okay?" Stiles questioned, not really expecting a reply, for my mouth was still completely covered. "Melanie— there's blood on your arms. You're hurt. . . we have to get you cleaned up. Your cuts could get infec—"

Stiles had then succeeded at untying my hands, so I took this as a moment to cut him off. Placing a hand over his rapidly moving lips, tugging onto the white cloth around my mouth until it dangling at my neck. As if it was a hideous looking necklace that Lydia would attempt to kill me for.

His mouth was then uncovered, but frankly not for long. For I pressed my chapped lips against his, the same clichè feeling rampaging about my stomach that I never seemed to loose with this boy. And I wasn't complaining.

I know what you may be thinking, this is not really the ideal place for...that. But, I honestly could care less. I wanted to cherish every moment I had with Stiles, therefor, I was going to kiss him. Sue me, I really don't care.

But sadly, our kiss had to come to an end. For a small whimper caught both Stiles and I off guard. We still weren't alone.

The two of us broke apart, meeting one another's adoring gaze. We both knew someone else was in here with us, but I wasn't sure why we weren't turning to look. Maybe it's the fact that we're afraid of who it may be. Or also because we just made out in front of them. Either way, we would have to look at some point.

And I guess that some point was now, for in sync, Stiles and I looked to the right of us. My arms still swung around his neck and his hands still placed at my waist. We looked as if our parents were rivals and they had just caught us kissing behind a tree. Basically a makeshift version of Romeo and Juliet. Except we weren't dead yet.

There sat Boyd and Erica. Tears brimming the both of their eyes while their hands were tied together, somehow attached to the roof of the basement. Duck tape decorated their mouths while a strange red and black chord wrapped around their wrists and arms. Most likely used to electrocute fatal victims.

"Oh god." My voice cracked, still not retracting my arms from my boyfriends neck. My mouth hanging agape and face a bit rosy from embarrassment.

Stiles pursed his lips together, not removing his hands either, "Did we just kiss in front of two tied up, possibly dying, werewolves?"

I nodded, turning to look at the boy, "I think we did."
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