Deception || s. stilinski [2]

la insanité

Tossing and turning is getting old.

The digital clock next to her bed most likely reads past midnight, and Bea has spent the better part of two hours trying to fall asleep. Her brain has been plagued with images of the sacrifices she witnessed, nightmares from Jennifer's reign suddenly coming back to haunt her at night.

A flash of Kyle's body causes her breath to falter. The boy at the pool makes shivers run down her spine as she remembers that night with Lydia and Stiles by her side. She remembers the feeling of the blood between her fingers; the cool night air wrapping around her like a blanket.

A sigh breaks through her lips as she flops on her back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She runs her fingers through her tangled hair, wincing as they pull apart the strands. It's only natural as her mind drifts off to the boy across the hall, debating whether or not she should just get up and walk over to his room and climb into bed with him like she's been wanting to do for the past two hours.

The last few days since that night after Halloween have been tense. Her suspicions of the boy haven't left her head. She hasn't been able to tell anyone, because she physically can't. Every time she tries to get the words out, it's like they die in her throat. Any time she tries to write it out, her hand freezes and refuses to let the pen touch the paper.

It's almost like she's trapped in her own mind.

"He's not here," a familiar–yet unfamiliar–voice informs, causing the girl to let out a scream and shoot straight up in her bed. Her heart pounds at the sight of a blurry figure standing at the end of her bed, and she slowly reaches over to grab her glasses from her nightstand.

"Stiles?" she breathes out as his figure clears through her lenses, her heart still racing. But there's something different about him. The dark circles under his eyes seem more prominent than before; his skin paler.

A dark smirk tilts his lips, causing her body to shudder as she pushes herself into her headboard. "Not quite, sweetheart," he denies. Her breath catches in her throat at his baritone, much different from Stiles' usual tenor. She clenches the sheets between her fingers, her sapphire eyes watching him carefully as he paces at the end of the bed with his hands clasped behind his back, his soulless eyes never leaving her.

I'm a thousand years old, you can't kill me!

"Nogitsune," Bea whispers, her pulse pounding in her ears along with the words shouted in his voice. A chill runs down her spine as he gets closer, kneeling to the ground at the end of the bed. "Wha–what do you want?"

His chuckle makes her skin crawl. "You've probably noticed by now that you can't tell anyone about what you've discovered," he starts, causing her to purse her lips, subtly trying to move her body further from his. Nogitsune smirks at her obvious ploy.

A gasp leaves her lips as his ice cold hands wrap around her ankles under the sheets, dragging her body to the end of the bed. His torso is situated between her legs, and his dull eyes stare up at her, that same smirk still on his lips. Her body trembles as his fingers graze the outside of her thighs, feeling frozen in her spot. Bea's blue eyes stare back at him widely, her hands clenching the sheets by her legs as she waits for him to continue.