LOVER, s.stilinski

v. golden bloodshed

CHAPTER FIVE !!
golden bloodshed

"ALLISON, DO ME A FAVOUR AND PICK UP YOUR GODDAMNED PHONE BEFORE I DECIDE TO PICK YOU UP INSTEAD AND THROW YOU OUT THE WINDOW."

To describe Chrissy as stressed would be a wild mistake, a far understatement at that. She was practically at the stage of ripping her own hair out, fists clenching tight against the rapidly growing urge to bang her head repeatedly against the wall. It was overwhelming, really, like a putrid smell that clung desperately to anything it could latch its formidable grip onto, digging the nauseating feeling deeper and deeper.

She couldn't shake her dream from the night before, no, not one bit. God, it was awful, like a raging fire that enraptured the most docile of things and savaged it until it was merely left as ruined remains. Truthfully, Chrissy had never felt anything close to it, the searing pain of panic that had settled down within her bones was so strong that her body ached with each step she took. Her face had been coated in a thin layer of sweat, evidence of the sheer frightened state the reverie had left her in.

Allison hadn't replied to any of her phone calls, text messages, or even e-mails. The question of what if floated carelessly around Chrissy's mind, bumping into each of her nerve endings and emotion memories. What if? What if, somehow, it was real? The blood, the carnage, the screams. What if it actually happened?

It was as clear as day, the image that was. One of the school buses, the bright yellow now turned a deep crimson red, and Allison, once bubbly and smiley, now still and scarred. It was horrifying, the way the brunette cried and shrieked as barred fangs of some sort clashed down on her pale flesh, ripping chunks of her skin away with murderous intent. Claws and vicious snarls scraped against her throat and stomach, leaving thick trails of blotchy red in their wake.

And now, with no answer, no communication, nothing, Chrissy's mind was going haywire with questions and horror. But there was still the nagging feeling of, perhaps it wasn't real. Surely it didn't happen, right? Her visions could be unpredictable, maybe not fake, but there was always room for an unexpected development. Who was to say that it wasn't just a made up, worrisome nightmare and nothing more than that?

Though, as Chrissy arrived at the gates of a place much considered her own personal hell, the more and more police cars and deputies that showed up with flashlights and forensic equipment, the more her perturbation wrapped around her ribs and squeezed the air from her lungs. This could not be happening to her.

She followed the string of officers around the school to the back where the school buses slept, not a thing occupying her thoughts besides the brunette she called her best friend. Flashbacks of the horror she had seen flickered between her reality and mind, making it difficult to navigate the route towards the sight of carnage. However, her pathway was immediately blocked, obscured by a body of general superiority and power.