The chains are straining against Malia's strength, almost to the point of breaking if she was just a tad stronger. Knowing it won't matter if she hurts me- because she can't- I grab her shoulders and force her back to the ground. My sneakers slide across the basement floors. Malia growls and whips her head all around. Breathing heavily, I use as much strength as I can to keep her from losing control.
"Stiles, get out of here!" Malia growls, staring over my shoulder.
I glance over my shoulder to see Stiles still standing about ten feet away from us. I roll my eyes, annoyed. He wasn't supposed to follow us down here. I don't want him to get hurt. I can't get hurt, but he can.
Malia grabs my arms, her nails digging into my arms. A plus to being dead is that you can't get hurt in anyway. Someone could stab you in the stomach and it wouldn't hurt you at all. Your skin might break from the blade because that's what it would have done when you were alive, but as soon as the blade is slide out, you'd heal immediately and feel nothing. As Malia digs her nails in my arm, I feel nothing, yet you can see where she has cut my arm. There's no blood or anything.
"Malia, it's okay." I tell her.
She growls in response. "Stiles, go!"
I turn back around. "Get him out of here."
"I'm trying." She says to me through gritted teeth.
Stiles takes a step forward until he is standing beside me. "It's okay. I hate parties. It's a social anxiety thing. You ever had a panic attack?"
"I'm having one now." Malia grunts.
"Ah!" Stiles spazzes out. "Just breathe, okay? I'm not going to leave you."
"Yes, you are." I retract my arms from Malia to push against Stiles' chest. "Get out of here!"
Stiles stumbles backwards, eyes wide. "Car- I'm not leaving."
Malia catches me off guard, her animal instincts kicking in and I'm shoved to the ground. I quickly climb back to my feet, annoyed to find out that Stiles had stepped in front of Malia. Is he purposely trying to get himself killed? I can handle Malia, but I'm too worried about Stiles to actually get the job done.
"Stiles, get the hell out of here!" I yell out in frustration. This is a time that I wish he could see me. Maybe he would actually leave.
"You look like you need my help." Aiden appears on my left side with his arms crossed over his chest.
I sigh in relief, beyond happy to see him. "Oh, thank God." I slide in front of Stiles, taking my place back in front of Malia. My arm must have touched him a little because he takes a step backwards. "Aiden, how do you control a werecoyote on a full moon?"
"Alright. Malia still has a little control, but she's losing it fast." Aiden starts to explain to me.
"Who are you talking to?" Malia gasps, her eye color switching colors.
I hold a hand up to Malia. "A dead werewolf that is going to help me tame your ass."
Malia shuts her mouth after I snap at her. She grunts, her claws reattaching to my arm.
Aiden moves closer. "Okay, try not to piss her off. She's already going to be homicidal, so you pissing her off is not going to help and if you haven't noticed, you're dead and Stiles is the only human in here. She'll go after if she completely loses it."
YOU ARE READING
Worlds Apart (Teen Wolf)
Fanfictioncover by: @sighstiles "Confidence thrives on honesty, on honour, on the sacredness of obligations, on faithful protection, and on unselfish performance. Without them it cannot live." Carter Argent is your average girl. She has a protective uncle, an...