Series Rewrite (A Teen Wolf Fanfiction) Continued

Condition Terminal Part 2

I got to ride in the front seat of the jeep on the way to my house. Stiles said it was because it would be easier for me to get out. Malia hadn't much liked his reasoning, pausing to give him a kiss before she agreed to get into the back. I was sure that was meant to warn me, but I didn't give a shit. Each moment passing was a moment closer to being home alone. Scott would probably stay with Kira and Melissa was working. That meant I'd be all alone in a large, dark house. I couldn't help thinking, "What if they come back for me?"

I could tell there was something on Stiles' mind because there had been since I woke up screaming, but he wasn't asking it, so I wasn't answering it. I was hoping he wouldn't ask since I had a suspicion of what the question would be. Something along the lines of, "What are they? Why did they scare you? You've never been scared before," blah blah blah. I didn't know the answer to any of those questions.

He would be right. I've never been scared in my life and now this alien-sounding, robot-building-mechanic's wet dream caused me what would be a life time of fear? It didn't make sense. Why had I said that I couldn't fight them? I could fight anything. I couldn't win against everything, but I was sure I could beat those things. So why was I scared?

Surprisingly enough, Stiles didn't ask any of those questions. He stopped me from getting out of the car, similar to the way he had before, his hand grasping my wrist. Once he saw that I wasn't moving to get out, he replaced his hand on the steering wheel, death gripping it. Was he angry?

"What's going on with you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I replied, already feeling my own anger spike in my throat. I narrowed my eyes at him, warning him to choose his next words carefully. He clearly didn't get the message.

"Why are you being so reckless?" His turned his angrier-by-the-second gaze to me, and it only made my own anger skyrocket. I nearly die for Tracy, a girl I've only talked to three times, and this was the thanks I got? That's bullshit.

"I'm not," I spat. "I'm saving my friends."

"No, Y/N, you're not. You're being reckless and irresponsible." I looked away from him out the window, crossing my arms and pursing my lips. How dare he? I was not reckless. "And you're angry, like, all the time. Everyone senses it. Are you trying to get yourself killed?" His voice has risen with each word, proving to me he had his own Sheriff voice.

I glared at him, my jaw dropped in astonishment. Was he really going to talk to me like I did something wrong? No. No way. My ex-boyfriend was not going to become my dad.

I scoffed at him. "I don't have to take this from you. Thanks for the ride." I shoved open the door, sliding out before he could grab my arm.

"Y/N! Don't walk away from me. I'm trying to hel-." The sound of his jeep door slamming cut him off. I could hear his pulse hammering angrily as I stomped to the house, unlocking the door with ease. I shut it behind me, immediately locking it.

The second I did, my anger ebbed away into dread. The house was dark since it was night time, and there were no lights on. Before I could dream up something running at me in the dark, I raced up the stairs and slammed the door to my room closed behind me. I flicked on the lights immediately then leaned against the door, panting harder than I ever have from just running. There was a thin film of sweat coating my forehead and it was difficult to swallow. These were new symptoms of a new emotion that I wasn't comfortable with. I changed into pajamas, skipping on the late-night shower (I'd take one in the morning when it was light), and turned on the lamp next to my bed.

I turned off the light, and the lamp kept the room glowing. I paused at the foot of my bed, looking at my closet. The door was wide open, as it always was, and my clothes inside hung innocently. I chewed on my lip as I stared, making a choice. I quickly walked over, shutting the door.