When I open my eyes, I'm blinking up at a ceiling. For a second, I don't recognize it, and I shoot up.
"Big mistake," I groan, throwing my hands up to my face. A pounding headache brings me close to throwing up.
"Hey, maybe you shouldn't sit up," Stiles tells me, and two hands push me back down. Relief washes over me when I hear his voice. "We, uh, thought about taking you to a hospital, but -"
"No!" I say quickly, starting to sit up again. The same two hands catch me. "No hospital. Mom -"
"Yeah, yeah, we figured that." Scott says. I remove my hands from over my eyes, turn my head, and look around Stiles' room. I can tell just by looking at Scott and Stiles that they have a million questions. Instead of asking them, they sit in a forced silence.
I close my eyes again and muster up as much amusement as I can. "Go ahead. You ask your questions."
"What did you see?" Scott bursts out at the exact same time Stiles near-shouts,
"What happened?"
"I saw Peter." I swallow heavily when the specific details start coming back.
"In the fire? In the shower? Killing those people?" Scott demands quickly. It takes me a minute to process what he said, but then I nod. "You saw the same thing as me. Is that what it's like for you to get visions?" Scott reaches up, rubbing his eyes at the memory.
"Well, you didn't faceplant into the asphalt, so clearly it's a lot worse for her," Stiles points out.
"I - What?" I stammer out.
Stiles and Scott exchange a look.
"Don't do it -" Scott warns.
Stiles is already getting up. "I gotta." He hands me a mirror, and I sit up. I cautiously peer at myself.
"No!"I cry when I see my reflection. My chin, the end of my nose, and part of my cheek are all scraped up. "No, no, no. Okay, okay. So, being psychic gives me super healing powers, just like being a werewolf, right?" Both of them avoid my eyes. "Right? It'll be healed in, like, a couple minutes? You've been shot, and you healed!"
"I don't think psychics heal like that, Em," Scott says.
"Well, we'll just have to give it a couple minutes then." I know nothing's going to happen as soon as the words leave my mouth. I don't heal like a werewolf. "Oh my god, I look like Peter. Oh no. I'm going to have to go to school this!" My eyes widen when I remember. Then, a bigger thought pops into my head. "Winter formal is coming up! Guys!"
"Were you gon - gonna go to that?" Stiles stammers out.
"Who let me faceplant into the asphalt?" I demand without answering. Scott jumps backwards, pointing his finger at Stiles, who widens his eyes when he sees the accusation.
"Um ..." Stiles hums. "Listen, usually when you have a vision, you don't do anything but stare and yell, so I wasn't expecting it, and you just - just sort of ... you know ... fell."
"You didn't catch me?" I raise my eyebrows accusingly.
"Well ... no."
"So, you're to blame for this?" I point to my face half-hysterically.
"You see, I think - if we want to really think about this - that all of this could be blamed solely on Peter and only Peter -" Stiles starts to ramble.
"And Derek," Scott interjects.
"Derek?" I echo.
"Oh ... Derek's kind of ... um, sided with his uncle," Scott informs me quietly.
"Great. Awesome. Fantastic. Derek's evil, Peter's up and walking around, killing people, half of my face is left on the school's parking lot, Jackson is blackmailing his way into being a werewolf, and I don't think I'll be too broken-up when Allison's aunt kidnaps Derek," I spew out.
"What?" both boys say.
"What." I repeat back, eyes widening.
YOU ARE READING
Transformed (Incomplete)
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...
