Wonder

NUT UP OR SHUT UP

Ariel awoke to a squirrel sitting on her chest.

"W-Wuh?"

Her voice came out hoarse and cracked. Ariel's throat was dry and she swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the furry beast on top of her. The furry beast in question cocked its head. It was small and brown and it's wide eyes surveyed her in such a way she felt naked to its gaze.

Seemingly finding her uninteresting, the squirrel squeaked, defecated on her chest and scurried off.

"What the hell?" Ariel sat up quickly and immediately regretted it as pain saturated her body. She was knocked back down under the force of it, letting out a groan as her head thumped against the floor. It already hurt the most out of all her pained body parts- there was a burn centralized in her left temple, the ache from it consuming her mind.

She opened her eyes again, waiting for the world to defuzz. Her head throbbed in disapproval as she moved upwards again. Ariel carefully propped herself up on her elbows and let out a curse that would have made a sailor blush.

The view of the Hale's charred dining room allowed the memories to come back to her. Looking for Derek. Finding his less attractive, more infuriating uncle. Kneeing him in the groin. Getting the shit kicked out of her. Peter going all 'Jaws' on her and taking a bite out of her side.

"If it wasn't official, it definitely is now." Ariel groaned, looking down at the bleeding wound on her left hip. "We are SO over."

Gingerly, she poked at the bite mark. Her finger came away red and her skin flared with pain as it was jostled. "Fuck." Ariel hissed angrily. Peter Hale was first place on her shit list, that was for sure. Next time she had the chance, Ariel would be covering him in honey and tying him to a tree for the hornets to enjoy. Or, even better, taping his eyes open and forcing him to sit through the entirity of Suicide Squad. Hell, maybe even go all medieval on him and pull a spread eagle. 

With considerable pain and a cacophony of swears, Ariel managed to push herself into a standing position on the second try. The first time, lightheadedness had seized her and she careened onto the ground. The squirrel poop that had been graciously left on her sweatshirt fell off, plopping soundlessly next to her crumpled body.

Ariel took a moment to curse just about every swear in the book before wrestling the dirtied sweater from her body. It was a long and rather painful process that involved jostling her bloody wounds, but she deemed it necessary. It was her homecoming night after all- a lady had to look presentable. As it fell to the ground, Ariel caught sight of herself in a cracked mirror on the north wall of the dining room and almost shrieked. Squirrel poop or not, she was in no way looking cute.

It was framed in what had once been a gilded gold, the reflective pane clouded by smoke and fire. Half was cracked, a spiderweb of breaks extending from the lower left side as if someone had punched. As if they were too disgusted by their reflection to look upon themselves any longer.

The girl staring back at her looked broken. Matted blonde hair hung in a braid over her shoulder, torn from the black hat she had donned earlier in the night. The immaculate makeup Lydia had painted her with was patchy with dirt and blood. Rivulets of mascara lined where salty tears had fallen. Ariel couldn't tell if her lips were red from lipstick or blood or both.

Bruises and scrapes marred her tanned skin, seemingly amplified by the white tank top she wore. Rather, half of it was white- the area surrounding the bite on her hip was anything but. Crimson blood, so dark it could be black, clotted around the ragged bite mark.

Ariel let out a low curse. She looked as if she'd been picked up by a tornado and thrown through a meat grinder. "Son of a bitch." With a low curse, Ariel forced herself onto her feet, wobbling with the grace of a newborn. The dining room spun around her and if not for her hands splayed out like she was on a tightrope, Ariel might have careened back onto the floor.