"How is it, that you got top marks in economics last day? You don't even pay attention in class!"
"Maybe I am smarter than Tony Stark."
"Do you always make fandom references to avoid conversations?"
[Season 2, 3a, 3b]
[Book One of the Elyna Benston...
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As tears streamed down her cheeks like a broken dam, she frantically stuffed her belongings into the first suitcase she could lay her hands on.
Her hands trembled with anxiety and disbelief. “Why?” she sobbed, her voice a broken whisper, as she clutched her precious Spider-Man figurine to her chest. Each item she packed felt like a stab to her already wounded heart— a woollen scarf that he had knit her decades ago, a polaroid picture of them visiting the Universal Studios, the pendant that he had brought for her from a late 1900s auction.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she sobbed, her voice cracking with anguish. She wished her she could speak to her brother for just once. He had left her on the driveway, but she wanted to ask him so many things. What had she done so wrong to deserve this?
Her heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces as his words still rung into her ears “I said we’re done, Aurora ”, the finality of his decision tightening around her neck like a noose as his words rang in her ears. “I never meant to hurt you, brother,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heart breaking. “I never wanted any of this, trust me.”
Choose Aldrich or Stiles. How could she ever choose one?
She shoved the last bit of whatever clothing she could find into her bag and picked up her purse and some secretly stashed money from under her mattress.
With one last desperate look back at the home that had once been their sanctuary, now tainted with sorrow and regret, she knew she had no choice but to go. With heavy steps, each one heavier than the last, she turned away, her heart aching with the pain of abandonment, and then she fled into the unknown, leaving behind the shattered remnants of their century old bond and trust.
Elyna jolted up from her sleep, hitting the back of her head on the wall. She winced, rubbing the sore spot, realising that she had fallen asleep while she was working. It was still dark outside and she fumbled around, dragging her hand along the moist-y walls for the light switch, flipping it on when she found it.
She looked around the mess of papers and sticky notes and her diary and Polaroids all around her, all over her mattress. At least her Indonesian and Japanese supernatural books were stacked neatly by her bed.
She was stuck at one thing for such a long time, it was driving her crazy now. She was no way nearer to figuring out what ‘extremely dangerous' supernatural entity is coming to Beacon Hills. It has been two months, and she was now starting to wonder if Camila Sanchez was wrong in her ‘feeling the feels of oncoming danger’.
