Evolution//stiles stilinski☾

treize

I remember nothing. My mind was blank. The only thing that seemed to circle in my head was a simple quote my brother used to say constantly.

"The cracks in old friendships are measured in awkward pleasures," Kyle would always say this to me when I lost a friend.

It was by Darin Strauss; I don't know who he is but he seemed to have an ideal mind. My mind, however seemed to be drawing blank at whatever I tried to conjure to remember. I was staring blankly at a wall, my arms and feet handcuffed to a chair. There were people talking, shouting, but I couldn't really hear them. I didn't know who any of these people were, nor did I care. They all seemed to be familiar to me but I didn't really seemed tuned into their conversation. I knew it was about me, yet I really didn't seem to care.

"Kayla? Can you hear me?" a girl asked looking into my eyes.

She look familiar like the rest, her green eyes and red hair bouncing off like crazy. Her eyes searched for a sign of hope in mine- I was unresponsive. My eyes were constantly burning as if an infection was infiltrated my eyes, but I knew it was the purple in them, glowing to the mischievous beat of uncertainty. My teeth pulled back, a snarl forming from the pit of my stomach.

"Would you freaking give us back Kayla?" a man with a scruffy beard held me by the jaw.

"Derek," the boy from last night held his arm, "we can't touch her. She'll attack you like she did last night to Kali."

I growled at the man, but I wasn't really in control of myself. My nails turned to claws, my face contorting into something. I tried to stand, hissing at the scruffy man. The chair was stranded to the floor, but I was not in the mood. Somehow I had managed to break free, my body aching for a kill.

"Kayla!" a powerful voice screamed, pinning me down to the ground.

I snapped out of it, my memories coming back like a wave of ice water. My head slammed on the concrete, my eyes foggy.

"Ow," I groaned, my eyes watering.

"Kayla?" Stiles' voice asked a few minutes of me laying on the ground.

"Sh," I shushed him. "My head is pounding."

"Kayla!" a female voice exclaimed.

"Shut up," I groaned, rolling on the ground. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."

"Kayla," Scott put his hand on my back. "Kayla can you please tell me how you feel."

"Like I just ran a marathon. Can you all please shut up?" I winced at the light.

"No ones talking, Kay," I heard another, very familiar nickname come to me.

"Kay, what's going on with you?" another familiar voice asked.

"Anna, Natalie, its what's she's turning into. She's a black dog, we just don't know what type," Deaton whispered.

"Shut up! Stop!" I screamed, placing my hands over my ears. "Make them stop!"

The voices came into my head again, praying and hoping for a sign of help. I was rocking back and forth on the ground, tears streaming down my face. Deaton leaned in closer to my face, concern in his face. He pulled my hands off my ears.

"Make who stop?" he calmly asked.

"The voices. They never stop," I sobbed.

"What voices?" he raised his eyebrows.

"The people. They're in need of help and-and I can't help them. They-they're in my head. I-I can't help them and I can't get them out of my head," I cried into my hands.