Am I in Stile? - Stiles Silinski (Book One)

Chapter 28

It's important when somebody dies to ensure their body is kept at the appropriate temperature so that they don't decay prematurely and Dr Deaton wasn't one to stray from the rules. Her skin was kept cold. Her fingertips blue and her lips a sickly shade of purple. The beating heart she once had was now stable and still, tucked neatly into her blood stained chest. The soft hands she once moved were placed together on her stomach, a popular pose in the funeral industry for those who had lost people. She was definitely that. Lost.

The doctor watched from his corner of the room. He may have only known the girl for a short while but nothing could stop the aching in his chest when he glanced at the deceased females body. A black plastic sheet covered her torso, leaving only her legs and head on show. A small square cut out above her abdomen, directly above the bullet wound she had endured. He had taken a good twenty minutes prepping the body and he still couldn't muster the strength to take a needle to her flesh and repair her.

Stiles sat in the opposite corner. His pink cheeks stained with tears and the skin around his eyes bright red and swollen. He could still feel her body in his hands. Her blood on his face as he pressed her body against his and begged for her life. His skin had rubbed against hers as her grip fell from his hands and fingers connected with the floor. At that moment, his heart had stopped beating too.

Allison stood in the corner on his left. Her arms crossed over her chest and her bow tucked neatly in the crook of her shoulder. Her dark brown hair was hanging out of her bun and her hands were also stained with the blood of her ferocious cousin. She had tried to avenge her but there wasn't an inch of her that was evil.

Scott crouched next to her. His head in his hands as he watched his best friend mourn the girl he loved. His shirt was still covered in red from his own gun shot wound. Crimson spots danced around his hair as he ran his fingers through the black locks, anger running through his veins. Veins that still pumped blood around his body; unlike hers.

The table underneath her body was ice cold. The silver metal reflecting her image back on itself. Her naked, dead corpse balancing on top. The beautiful color of her eyes would no longer be seen, for her lids remained closed to the world. Once soft pink lips were forever pressed together.

They all watched her. Dreading their last goodbye. Slowly they advanced towards the table, four sets of eyes focused on the floor in front of them as they braced themselves for heartbreak. Heartbreak so painful that nobody saw her small fingers move.