burned ➷ stiles stilinski [1]

13. crescendo

listen to: killing you - broods

just a reminder, I'm still editing this book! there may or may not be something that moves a little too fast at the end of the chapter, but please remember I will fix any plot holes when I come around to it! thank youuu

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"No, Lydia, I promise that I didn't get anymore black clothes. I'm on the interstate now, okay? See you soon." My thumb tapped the "end" button and I hung up on the strawberry-blonde.

Cars flew past me and I cursed at them under my breath. "Stupid people. I'm going the damn speed limit." I sighed and tried to get comfortable in the driver's seat of my new Honda. I had been persuaded to get my own vehicle, and I suppose it was kind of nice not to have to rely on everyone else to take me places.

I was also carrying another purchase that I had made this evening: a new smartphone.

Yes, I know, it was a surprise for me as well. But Stiles was the one to finally talk to me about the "advantages to having a phone, even if I was a supernatural badass."

So, a couple days after the terrible night at Motel Glen Capri, I decided I needed some time to think on my own. And the only way to clear my head was to shop.

Although I'm not sure leaving the pack for a couple hours did any good for me. I spent the whole time worrying that something bad had happened while I was gone. I would end up calling Scott or Stiles only to have them tell me that nothing was happening.

I sighed as I thought about Beacon Hills again. I wondered how the kids coped with the amount of death that surrounded the town. Hell, I was 714 years old and have only spent a couple weeks in the town, and I'm already going insane.

Insane. The word lingered in my mind. I was going insane, thanks to the damn Darach. The thought of the dark druid made me curl my fingers around the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

Sadly, the fire I had absorbed back at the Motel hadn't burned out the mistletoe, as I'd expected. It was still in my body, poisoning me, giving me horrible hallucinations and nightmares.

Needing to escape from my dreary thoughts, I reached over and turned up the radio. A frown made its way on my face as an overplayed pop song was on, and I quickly changed the station to my favorite genre: classical.

Beethoven's Ninth Symphony started to play. Such a beautiful piece.

As I looked up from the radio, a small butterfly had gracefully landed on my windshield. It was beautiful: it's wings were a brilliant red with orange tips, its tiny body as dark as night. It looked kind of like a Fire Phoenix's wings.

A few moments later, another one attached itself to my windshield. Then another. "What the hell?" I muttered. Soon the beautiful insects were all over the window.

I couldn't see. The damn butterflies were everywhere. Some even flew out the air vents and pestered me in my own car. My hand attempted to swat them from my face as I searched for the windshield wiper, but I couldn't find where the lever was on the steering column.

The butterflies were clinging to my shirt now, and I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn't see what was ahead of me, even when I tried my supernatural vision.

Just as my foot moved to slam on the brake, I was thrown out of the car.

The butterflies vanished as my body crashed through the windshield. I felt the tiny pieces of glass sink into my skin, but I didn't have time to cry out in pain as I tumbled down a hill.