burned ➷ stiles stilinski [1]

22. empty expressions

sorry this took me so long to update, but it's a longer chapter filled with A LOT OF IMPORTANT THINGS/REFERENCES

and i was also thinking that i would make an 8tracks playlist to go with the story, because usually the mood of the chapter associates with the song. just let me know if you would want it!!! (i'll probs do it anyway lol)

hope you guys enjoy :)

listen to: her - majid jordan

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The atmosphere inside the ambulance was quiet; the ragged breaths Cora took the only thing making noise.

I had tried many times to regain my strength by saying Jennifer's riddle, yet nothing worked. She must have cut me off from her power, even though from our link she must know I was injured. Crazy bitch.

The only thing keeping me from closing my eyes forever was the fact that Stiles was with me. He had held my hand for the past fifteen minutes, his palm getting sweaty from the constant contact. His face had gone from placid to frustrated to absolutely furious in seconds, yet he hadn't said a word.

I let him be, seeing that he was obviously fighting an inner battle. It probably had something to do about his father, and nothing I would say could cheer him up. The one thing he needed was hope...yet it was something I didn't think I could give him when I didn't have it myself. The darkness around my heart would not allow for any healing or hope.

I pursed my lips, deep in thought. I wondered what would happen to these kids if I died. Maybe they would be better off, maybe they would crash and burn - I didn't know. The only thing I knew for sure was that my name was the Shadow Phoenix for a reason: Death followed wherever I went.

I was a killer who mourned over her victims; a monster who wore a pretty face.

These teenagers deserved more than what they were getting. They deserved a happy life, where the only thing they feared was failing their math test or getting a detention. Stiles shouldn't be here without his father, Scott shouldn't be worried about Deucalion, Cora shouldn't be sick.

Unfortunately, the world wasn't kind enough to allow prosperity.

My dark thoughts were consuming me, just as the mistletoe was eating away at my life. I wondered if it was doing the same to Stiles, who sat beside me, his foot tapping against the floor rapidly. I studied his face; his ghostly skin, his deep, dark eyes that mesmerized me, his chapped lips that he chewed at relentlessly.

He was beautiful in more ways than one, but some of that beauty had been stripped away from grief.

I frowned. Someone as good and selfless as him shouldn't be living in this dark, cold-hearted world.

Life was a twisted game, but playing it had made us stronger.

But was it worth it? Was life worth enduring just to become a stronger person?

I may never know.

↣↣↣

"Are we waiting for someone?" I asked, breaking the tension that filled the truck.

"Scott," Stiles said tersely.

I looked from his worried and scrunched up face down to our linked hands. Trying to lighten the mood, I brought up a different subject.

"Stiles, what are we?"

The question definitely got his attention.

"Uh..." he muttered. "Does it matter?"