𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗬-𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 ♡

But she did. 

"It's hard to believe." Dallas flickered her gaze to him just as he opened his mouth to speak. "Isn't it?"

Scott locked eyes with Stiles. Then forced them back onto the teenage girl. "Kinda." He huffed. "I mean, why has Derek never mentioned a cure before if it existed? Even if it did, what'd happen if you'd take it? Your human body is dead."

Dallas had never thought about that before. Her body had began rigormortis before she was shocked back to life with bolts and curses. A little more frankenstein-like than she'd prefer, but that was the black and white jist. 

Stiles, however, did not seem to agree. "Let's not completely rule out the idea of a cure here, kay?" he practically leapt forward, snaking his arm around Dallie's waist and pulling her closer to him while further away from Scott. "She almost got sliced open yesterday cause of this Siren stuff."

Dallas flickered her eyes between the two boys. So they were butting heads. Again. Dallas appreciated Stiles' concern. His undeniable affinty to be the one in her corner no matter the circumstance -- but Dallas didn't have a corner at the moment. Her mind had puzzled all of them into once circular room that kept spinning and spinning around until she felt sick. 

It was true that she hated what Peter had done to her. It was true that being a Siren ruined her life. It was true that it made her feel like a monster rather than a matyr. 

Yet, it was also true that she enjoyed the power. She enjoyed the complexity of her relationship with the earth and it's core element. She adored the way lakes filled up the empty hole inside of her. She'd miss how the sickly sweet taste of blood easily cured her broken bones like chicken soup would feverent fevers.

The expectation that she'd easily flock to the idea of a cure had hurt her. Dallas had tried hard to love herself despite her maneating and monstrous flaws - and half her family wanted her to throw it all away for a chance to have regular bloodstreams flow through her veins and fresh air purify her lungs instead of the saltwater she'd had grown used to tasting.

"Peter made this decision for you, Dal, now it's yours." Stiles clipped her forearms and gently coaxed her to look at him. "Just don't choose something just to please everybody else." 

Dallas felt sick. The world around her had been planted on a spike and slapped into a never-ending spin. Clouds peeled from the planet and settled before her dizzy eyes. Oceans split from their seams and rummaged down her back in a single stream of chills. Volcanoes erupted in her head with each blast of lava screaming at her to make a decision and to make it now.

How could everybody else possibly know her answer before she did? Dallas didn't know what she wanted. A part of her didn't even want to make the choice at all and hide underneath the covers until it all went away.

"Dallas, you have no idea what that cure could do to you. If he is telling the truth." 

They both stared at her intently. Both awaiting an answer she couldn't give. Stiles gave her hand a comforting squeeze and wore a smile that made her worries flee. But then Scott clenched his jaw and gave her a look that made her want to choose her cards carefully - it was all or nothing. 

"I-" She forced her mouth shut as quickly as it had opened. "I'm late for class." 

They had both tried to protest but had their voices echo back from the slammed bedroom door instead. Her back pressed against the wood and her chest rose and fell with each diluted breath. 

Everbody's voices began filling up her skull and repeating in different tones what they thought she should do. She heard the opinions they voiced. And the ones they kept hidden in their mind. The pressure kept building and building and building until the surface began bubbling in a way she couldn't hide.