"Did you see his face?" Scott asks me later that night. I had been debating getting up and putting on pajamas to go to bed for the last thirty minutes. But every time I thought about going to sleep, things kept popping into my head.
"Of course I saw his face," I reply. Peter Hale's face was one of those things that kept popping into my head. It was a close second for the most gruesome, topped only by the sight of Derek's bloody, infected arm about to be sawed off.
"Do you think Allison's family did that?" Scott looks worried.
"They might've," I shrug casually. Another thing that kept popping into my head was Derek pinning Jackson up against the locker, his claws sinking into his neck. "I've never met her family - except for her mom. I think Stiles and I weirded her out , though, and -"
"Allison's father shot me in the woods," Scott paces back and forth. "Her aunt shot Derek. They're werewolf hunters. But ... starting a fire that killed ten people, including humans ..."
"You don't think it's possible," I finish for him.
"I think I'm going to go to bed," Scott sighs, kicking at my door frame softly.
"Good night then," I say, giving him half a smile.
"'Night, Em," he disappears into his bedroom. He pops back in a moment later. "Wait."
"What?" I ask, looking back up at my door.
"Don't say anything to Derek about ... you know, being psychic," Scott says. "I don't trust him yet and I -"
"I won't say anything," I promise.
"Okay," my brother hangs around for a minute. "Night."
He leaves again. I peel off my jeans and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants, but I don't hunt for a different shirt to wear to sleep. I go to plug my phone in before realizing that I don't have it. It's still on the floor of Stiles' Jeep where I dropped it, probably dying. I turn off the light and sit in the dark for a while longer.
Among all the gruesome, supernatural images running through my mind, there's one that I like to hold onto for a little longer than the rest. I can still feel the way Derek grabbed my wrist and then my hand, lacing his fingers through mine as he went to cough up blood. I can feel the way they squeezed mine and the way I returned the pressure. Then, inevitably, him pulling his hand away.
I agonize over it. What if I hadn't squeezed back? Would I have gotten a few more seconds of his hand in mine? Would he have still noticed then and pulled away? What if I hadn't let him go? What if I had clamped down on his hand? Would he have kept holding mine? I sigh, flopping backwards on my bed. My head connects with the headboard, but I can't make a sound. The biggest question of them all starts to pound in my brain. Do I like Derek Hale? I close my eyes, trying to stop the questions.
Once I manage to semi stop the questions, I realize startlingly that I haven't had a psychic vision recently. I had that sense in Derek's uncle's room, but no visions. I wonder what it means. I sigh again, flipping over. The blankets tangle uncomfortably around me. I attempt to straighten them out to no avail. Finally, I just settle into the discomfort.
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Fanfiction"Don't be afraid of change. You might lose something good, but you'll gain something better." Emerson McCall is a pretty average high school student. She has one friend she shares with her brother, Scott, and between the two of them, she has all she...
