𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 - 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚔𝚒 𝚇 𝙾𝙲

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎

I felt the weight of eyes on me while sitting alone at lunch, picking at the food on my tray and refusing to look up. Annoyed by the prying attention, I finally spoke up. "What?" I asked, my voice laced with irritation. Scott, sitting across from me, seemed taken aback. "Nothing," he replied, quickly looking back down at his own food. But I could tell something was bothering him.

I raised my gaze to meet Scott's eyes, my expression blank. "Scott, what is it?" I pressed, my tone still edged with frustration. He hesitated before asking, "How are you?" It was a simple question, yet one filled with genuine concern. Scott didn't want to upset me, but he couldn't hide his worry either.

"I'm fine," I replied curtly, looking back down at my food and aimlessly pushing it around with my fork. Scott's frown deepened, sensing that there was more to my response than met the eye. "Steph, it's okay to not be okay. I'm just asking because... I've never seen you come to school wearing sweatpants or with your hair in a messy bun," he said, his concern evident.

My frustration simmered as his words hit a nerve. "I never said I was okay. I said I'm fine," I retorted, feeling the need to defend myself. Without another word, I stood up abruptly and walked away, leaving behind the untouched food on my tray. I could hear Scott calling out my name, but I ignored it. Right now, I couldn't bear the weight of their worries and questions.

Heading towards the lacrosse field, I sought solace in the familiar surroundings. The empty field provided a temporary escape from the concerned gazes and probing questions. It was here that I could find a moment of peace, even if just for a little while.

I grabbed a spare lacrosse stick and a bag of rubber balls from the boys' locker room, making my way out to the field without bothering to change into my gym clothes. Once again, I found solace in wearing Stiles' sweatpants and t-shirt, which had become my favorite comfort clothes during this tumultuous time.

I dropped the bag of balls on the ground and picked one up, hurling it with all the energy I could muster into the net. Over and over, I repeated the motion, channeling my emotions into each throw. Hot tears streamed down my face, but I maintained my blank expression, letting them fall freely. There seemed to be no point in wiping them away when they would only keep coming.

Anger mixed with my sadness, intensifying the tumult within me. My heart raced faster, and a surge of heat coursed through my body, reminiscent of the cosmic flames that had awakened within me. I picked up the last ball from the bag and held it in my hand, staring at it for a moment.

They were murdered. Taken from me.

With that thought, I unleashed a primal grunt, and the ball in my hand ignited, turning a vibrant red and then bursting into flames. It soared through the air at an astonishing speed, appearing to travel a few hundred miles per hour. As it struck the net, the flames consumed it, briefly catching the rope on fire before extinguishing just as quickly. The ball landed and rolled away, leaving behind a trail of ashes on the once-green grass.

I dropped the lacrosse stick, its metal smoking slightly from the intensity of my grip. I stared at it, my breaths heavy and ragged, my body trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and newfound power. The raw emotions that had surged through me in that moment of fiery release lingered in the air, a reminder of the pain and anger that consumed me.

"Steph..." Stiles said urgently, causing me to turn towards him. "Oh, Sephy," he whispered when he saw the tears streaming down my cheeks. Without hesitation, he jogged over and enveloped me in his arms, offering me a comforting embrace. In that moment, I crumbled once again, my fists clenching his shirt as I sobbed into my best friend's shoulder. "They're gone, Stiles, and they're never coming back. I'm not fine, I'm not okay!" I cried out, the weight of my emotions overwhelming me. Every sensation, every sound, even the gentle breeze seemed to amplify, pushing my senses beyond their limits. On a scale of 1 to 10, it felt like I was at 101.