(Your POV)
"So, is that hypothetical situation we talked about getting any less hypothetical?" Stiles asks, making me huff. "I can move my legs and arms now... I can almost stand up..." I say, making him hum. "What about you Derek?" Stiles asks again. "I think so... I can move my toes." Derek says, making me frown. "Dude, I can move my toes." Stiles says groaning, making me chuckle.
Then the lights suddenly flicker and I force myself to finally stand. When the spare lights are back on, I can see Stiles and Derek watching me in awe. Suddenly we hear gunfire coming from the main area of the station, making me look at both of them in worry.
Scott then comes running into the room, looking at me surprised to see me standing up. I'm still not fully in control, but I'm able to keep myself up. "Take him! Go!" I yell at Scott, pointing at Stiles. I go over to Derek, seeing that he is starting to move a little as well. "You will have to break my arm Y/n... It will speed up the process." He tells me, making me nod. I reach for his arm, breaking the bone in two, making him roar.
After a few moments, the wound starts healing and Derek stands up. "Get out of here... If these are the Argents, then you can't be here." I say to Derek making him nod. "What about you?" he asks me, making me shrug. "I'll be fine... now go!" I say, running into a hallway and looking for Scott and Stiles. I walk through a hallway filled with smoke, suddenly seeing Allison come into view.
"Allison!" I say, smiling a little. My smile drops when she points her crossbow at me. "Allison?" I ask nervously, raising my hands in the air. "Where's Derek?" She asks me, making me nervously gulp. "What are you doing?" I ask, looking back at the crossbow that is still pointed at me.
"If you're not going to tell me, then get out of my way." She yells. "Allison—" I then say, realization hitting me that her mother must have died. "Where is he???" she yells furiously. "I'm sorry Allison... I- I don't know." I say, making her frown at me. "you need to stay away from me right now." She says when I try to walk closer to her.
"Allison... this isn't you... you're not this kind of person... Revenge doesn't do anyone any good." I say, seeing her suddenly frown at me. "You knew?" she then asks, making me gulp nervously again. "I- I uhm..." I say "Your mother made me keep it a secret..." I say, looking at her sadly.
She sighs and looks at the ground sadly for a minute. She then looks back up at me coldly, shooting an arrow in my leg, making me fall to the ground in pain. "Ahhhh!" I say, crouching down to put pressure around the arrow sticking out of my leg. She walks closer to me, still looking at me coldly. "I need to go. Just stay out of my way." She says, rounding the corner and leaving me on the ground.
I crawl into the room next to me, seeing Stiles laying on the ground. I crawl over, closing the door behind me. When Stiles sees me with the arrow in my leg, he starts freaking out. "What the hell happened? " he asks, still lying motionless on the floor.
"Allison." I say, crawling over to the wall next to him and sitting upright against it. I then looks down at the wound in my leg and groan. "This is going to hurt... you might want to close your eyes if you don't want to see blood..." I say to Stiles, taking the arrow in my hand and holding my leg with my other one.
"Allison shot you?" Stiles then asks in worry. "Yes..." I say, pulling at the arrow in one swift motion, crying out in pain. I let the arrow fall out of my hand shakingly and close my eyes to try to keep my tears from falling. "You ok?" Stiles then asks. I look at him, seeing him smile at me sadly. "I'm fine... It will heal." I say.
"Why would Allison shoot at you?" he then asks. "She knows about Derek biting her mother..." I say, making his eyes widen. "I have to get back out there and help... stay here." I say, running out of the room and ignoring Stiles' pleas to stay in the room.
(Third POV)
When Y/n had left the room, Stiles slowly crawls over to the door and opens it. He then falls back down on the floor, trying his hardest to crawl towards the holding cells, knowing that his father is there.
When Stiles has crawled all the way to the corner of the hallway, he can look inside the room with the holding cells, seeing his father pull himself free from the wall. Suddenly Mark punches the sheriff in the back of his head, making him fall unconscious on the ground. Stiles who has seen this, starts to form tears in his eyes from the fear.
"Mark? Mark please, listen to me. My son has been shot, and I've heard other gunfire, and I don't know what's happening... But can you please just let me see my son?" Melissa asks again in tears.
"How totally clueless are you people?" Mark asks her scoffing. Y/n then walks into the holding cell room, glowing her eyes red and growling at Mark.
(Your POV)
I see Stiles lying on the floor, trying to get to the holding cells. I look at him, silently telling him to stay there, when I hear Mark Scoffing at Melissa. I look over and see Stiles' dad unconscious on the ground, making me fill with anger.
I then walk over to them, glowing my eyes red and growling at Mark, making him look at me. I then see Jackson roaring at me from the other side. He lunges at me, but I avert his claws and punch him in his face, sending him backwards against the wall.
Jackson then lunges at me again, making me fall backwards on the ground and roaring at him again. I see Mark behind me, run away from the room. I look back at Jackson and punch him again, then using a chair from the desk next to me to knock him on the head. He shrugs it off and throws me back, making me land behind the desk.
When I stand back up, Jackson runs towards Melissa's cell. I run after him, grabbing him and pulling him away from her cell, seeing her look at me with fear. The look of fear makes me stop for a second, my eyes going back to normal. This makes me lose focus for a second, making it easy for Jackson to throw me back against the wall, knocking my head against it and making me groan in pain.
Scott then runs into the room, digging his claws into Jackson's back and throwing him off the holding cell. I jump forward, before Jackson can lunge himself at Scott again, slashing in his back, making him roar loudly. Jackson then flees the room, leaving us behind.
"Oh, God. Scott? Scott, you okay?" I hear Melissa ask her son. I look over at them, seeing Scott still hunched over in his werewolf form. "Scott?" Melissa asks again, making Scott slowly turn his head towards her. When she sees his face, she gasps in surprise. "No!" she then yells in horror, backing away into the cell. Scott looks at me sadly, making me look sadly at him. Scott then runs past me, leaving the room in a hurry.
I look over at Melissa, making my eyes go back to normal. "I know this is a lot to take in... but Scott saved your life tonight... he has saved many people already... please don't be afraid of him. He's no monster." I say to her, walking over to Noah to check if he was alright. I feel his steady pols and sigh in relief, nodding at Stiles that he was going to be fine.
(Third POV)
Scott runs into Gerard on his way out of the holding cells, and he frowns at the man. "What are you doing here? It wasn't supposed to happen like this!" Scott exclaims. "Trust me, I'm aware of that." Gerard says tensely.
"I've done everything that you've asked of me. I'm part of Derek's pack, I've given you all the information that you wanted, I told you Mark was controlling Jackson..." Scott says, making Gerard nod.
"Then leave him to us. Help your friends. Leave Mark and Jackson to me. Deal with your mother." Gerard says. "Go!" Gerard says again. Scott reaches down and picks something from the ground, handing it back to Gerard. "You dropped this." Scott says, before disappearing into the hallway.
(Stiles POV)
"You know, when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called "voluntary apnea." It's, like, no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then, when you finally do let it in... that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's-it's actually kind of peaceful." I say, looking at the counselor in front of me.
"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?" she asks me, making me shake my head and shrug my shoulders. "I don't feel sorry for him." I say, making her nod at me. "Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Mark who drowned?" she asks me.
"Just because a couple of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim, doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one." I say scoffing. "And, by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Mark's computer. And not just of her, though. I mean, he Photoshopped himself into these pictures-- stuff like them holding hands, and kissing... You know, like, he had built this whole fake relationship. So, yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy-train." I say defensively.
"One positive thing came out of this, though... Right?" she asks me, referring to my dad being reinstated as the sheriff. "Yeah. Yeah... but I still feel like there's something wrong between us. I don't know. It's just, like, tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott." I say.
"Have you talked to Scott and y/n since that night?" she asks me, making me shrug. "Y/n I have spoken to a couple of times... but not as much as I used to before that night." I say sadly. "And Scott?" she asks me, making me shake my head. "No, not really... I mean, he's got his own problems to deal with, though..." I say, thinking about how Melissa had seen both him and Y/n as werewolves.
"I don't think he's talked to Allison, either... But that might be more her choice, you know?" I say shrugging. "But I guess it brought her and her dad closer..." I say nodding. "Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately..." I say again frowning. "Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal..." I say, frowning even harder.
"And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow?" Marin asks me. "Uh, no. I-I never actually play. But, hey, since one of my teammates is dead, and another one's missing, who knows, right?" I say, trying to make light of the situation.
"You mean, Isaac-- one of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?" Marin asks me. "How come you're not taking any notes on this?" I ask, changing the subject. "I do my notes after the session." She says, making me frown in confusion. "Your memory's that good?" I ask.
"How about we get back to you." She then says, making me sigh. "Stiles?" she asks again. "I'm fine." I begin, sighing heavily. "Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen." I say, fidgeting with my fingers.
"It's called "hypervigilance." The persistent feeling of being under threat." Marin explains to me. "But it's not just a feeling, though... It's-it's like it's a panic attack, you know? Like I can't even breathe." I say, looking back at her.
"Like you're drowning?" She asks me, making me nod "Yeah..." I say. "So, if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment... What if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?" she asks, making me frown. "You do anyway. It's a reflex." I explain.
"But, if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?" she asks me carefully. "Not much time." I say again. "But more time to fight your way to the surface?" She asks, smirking at me. "I guess..." I say, fidgeting with my fingers again. "More time to be rescued?" she asks again, making me sigh again.
"More time to be in agonizing pain. I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?" I ask her in disbelief. "If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?" she asks me sternly. "But what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now, and then-and it's just hell later on?" I ask, looking at her sadly. "Then think about something Winston Churchill once said... "If you're going through hell, keep going." She says, looking me in my eyes.