FIREBALL || TEEN WOLF (REWRITE)

T W O

❝—IM ADDICTED TO A LOT
OF CRAZY SHIT...❞

I overslept, was my initial thought as the shrill sound of a cellphone echoed somewhere in the distance. The text was probably Lydia wondering where the hell I was, Charlie asking if everything was okay since the school had contacted him about my absence, or Jackson asking if I wanted a ride—either way it didn't immediately bring back the prior night.

As I lifted my head and adjusted to my reality, groaning as a crips and clear vision of my kitchen came to focus I realized a few details.

1.

I was covered in blood, much like Dexter Morgan was usually, only for some off reason I knew it was my blood that stained the black wooden boards of my room and the stretchy fabric of my clothes.

2.

The idea that I was seeing everything the minimal of strength was alarming considering ever since I was 5 my vision had been terrible and I'd had to wear glasses ever since. When I was old enough contacts became the better option but still, nothing quite felt the same unless I was looking at it through my thick rimmed glasses and yet here I was... watching as the dust and pollen floated through the air all the way outside my kitchen window with bare eyes. My glasses were even a little ways of out of reach, cracked and broken just further proving my thought.

3.

The sound I was hearing was coming from my phone set beside my glasses, dried blood accompanying it as well. The small device vibrated before illuminating the idea that I wasn't late to school and what had indeed woken my was my alarm. The sound normally made me miserable and usually attributed to the bitter mood the first few hours but ironically right now it's sound was like a symphony because something made sense, in a very fucked up way.

And most importantly 4.

There was so much blood, undoubtedly mine unless I'd gone on a murder spree in my sleep and falling back into slumber before cleaning up but seeing as there was no body nearby I quickly recanted that idea. So that left me with my original thought, my sole thought, and the most confusing of them as all this blood pointed to an extremely deep wound and yet I had nothing.

Everything pointed to the worst possible crime scene anyone could have come upon, with blood dragged across the floor and dried on my hands, clothes, I could even feel it crushing against my neck which made my skin crawl but did not answer any question that was currently running a marathon in my brain.

"Fucks sake," I muttered to myself and sat up awkwardly, my body aches but no horrible pain came to mind.

My abdomen was freezing, curtesy of the opened patio doors. I looked down and saw the ripped shreds of my shirt, remembering how incredibly painful it had been prior. Nothing made sense, nothing was right about this and yet I oddly felt calm.