Series Rewrite (A Teen Wolf Fanfiction)

I.E.D Part 1

I gasped awake, automatically throwing up blackness. I couldn't see it, but it was the same taste. Great, I died again? That's the first time I've died in a while. Guess I was overdue. Now if I could just figure out where I am.

It was too dark to see much, and I knew was in a small space outside of the city. It didn't smell like Beacon Hills. It smelled like horse shit.

Footsteps got closer, and I shielded my eyes from the obtrusive light streaming in. I heard a small gasp from a girl, then she yelled out the name Garrett. I slowly stood, still blinking at the black figures surrounded by light. They both walked in, closing the door behind them. Only then did I realize I was looking at Garrett and his girlfriend whose name I couldn't remember.

"Damn. The Benefactor should've told us she would come back to life," Garrett said. I opened my mouth to talk when I fell to the floor, screaming in pain. The memory of my death flashed through my head. The garrote, the two holding me down, the heat, the pain.

I grabbed at my neck and they watched in confusion until I finally rested on the floor, panting loudly.

"Why?" I croaked.

"Don't take it personal," the girl said.

"Violet," Garrett warned as she walked forward. He had a lacrosse stick in his hands. Odd, considering we weren't anywhere near the school and he wasn't dressed for lacrosse.

"It's just you're worth a lot of money dead," she continued.

"What? Where's Scott?" I swallowed, though it was difficult with how dry my throat was.

"Oh, we'll find him, too," Garrett smiled. He walked up to me, pressing a button on his stick. I crawled backwards, scrambling away from the blade that appeared at the end of it. He smiled like he was enjoying it, then my back hit a wall.

Garrett grinned and plunged his bladed stick straight through my heart. He took a picture, sending it to the same number. When he got the same response back, he groaned, trying not to throw his phone.

"She's still not dead!" Garrett said with frustration.

"I have an idea." Violet grinned at him, picking up a shovel off the ground. "Let's bury her."

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I jumped awake, rolling over to vomit. Blackness landed in a trashcan and it was mixed with loads of dirt. One pair of hands touched my back, patting and rubbing gently as if I was a child who needed to be burped.

The vomit came up again, and then again, and it was forceful enough to bring tears to my eyes. Finally, when everything seemed to be out, I looked up to see I was in Stiles' guest room, and the person touching me was Scott.

I licked my impossibly dry lips, but the black tar-like substance was so thick that it coated them, leaving me thirstier. I looked down at myself, and I was disgusted. It wasn't just the dirt and grime covering me. My hair was a rat's nest, and I was 30 pounds underweight.

"Where's Stiles?" I croaked.

"He's with Malia," Scott said in a way that made it seem like he didn't like the idea of the two together. I was about to ask why, but then I remembered the fight I'd had with him about it. So it was real. He was dating Malia.

Because I couldn't think of anything else to say, I mumbled, "But he's always here when I wake up..."

"I know. I'm sorry. But he told me to text him when you wake up." Scott was quiet for a few moments, filling the time with sending a text to Stiles, before he blurted, "Why'd you break up with him, Y/N/N? You and I both know you're still in love with him."