ISAAC FUCKING LAHEE is honestly such a qain in my ass. like seriously what a puppy bitch. i know this jurnel is suposed to de facts only and not my qersonal feelings but he really is a know it all. talking about me wearing short skirts to try and make stiles "man up" or some shit. it's dullshit. it rlly is.
anyways, they tried to kill lydia cause they think she's the kanima. they tested her in chem. dy putting kanina gooq on the little ebidl crystal. so i jumped up & ate it instead making me paralyzed right there.
of course it didn't matter. they still were convinced so we had to qrotect her at scott's. you already know i kicked that quqqy bitch's ass forreal. i delt with isaac & allison delt with erica, then we tossed them out at berek's feet.
turns out jackass whittewhore is the kanima. fuck.
Willow smiled faintly as her eyes ran along the page of messy writing. Right beside the paragraphs was a doodle of a girl stick figure in a skirt kicking a curly haired boy stick figure.
The older sister was given a few of Georgia's notebooks to educate herself on everything that happened in Beacon Hills before she showed up. Part of it was Willow's attempt to connect with Georgia better. It was amusing to read her rants about Isaac Lahey, the boy now one of her closest friends.
However, as Willow skimmed over the section again, her brows furrowed. Now that she was looking for them, she realized there was a lot of spelling errors. The grammar wasn't quite as bad, but the writing was. Countless times she mixed up Ps versus Qs, or Ds versus Bs.
Willow carefully shut the notebook, standing to her feet. She pet Buffy the cat as she passed, smiling at the kitty. Her fuzzy sock's made little noise against the floor as she headed upstairs, straight for Georgia's bedroom.
Of course the alpha heard her coming and swung the door open before Willow could even knock. Willow was surprised to see her properly dressed in dark skinny jeans and a cropped halter top, her hair and makeup done.
"Oh," Willow blurted, her brows raising. It had been a little over a week since Georgia went to school, too busy practicing how to manage her strength and such, "Are you going to school today?"
Georgia nodded, her blonde curls bouncing, "Yep. Figured it's about time."
"Good," Willow smiled, "I think you're ready too."
They spent a lot of time down in the basement, hitting punching bags or doing different routines. Georgia had broken a lot of things around the house from grabbing them too harshly, but she was getting better. Usually they spent the first half of the day training, and then Stiles and the others would be back from school and Georgia would go with them.
"Did you need something?" the blonde interrupted Willow's train of thought. As Willow nodded, Georgia moved back into her bedroom to continue gathering her things.
As she stepped in, Willow opened the notebook again, "So, I've been reading all your journals like I said I would," she began to slightly pace back and forth in the room.
"So?" Georgia urged her to continue. She was carefully brushing mascara onto her lashes where she sat in front of the mirror.
"So. . ," Willow hesitated, not wanting to offend the girl that barely liked her, "So, I just noticed a lot of spelling errors. Like, letter flipping."
Georgia slowly turned in her chair, blinking at Willow, "So what? I was rushing to write most of that, Willow, I wasn't paying attention."
Willow gulped, going to sit on the edge of Georgia's bed. She set aside the notebook, instead leaning forward with her elbows against her knees, "Gia, I'm not trying to offend you or be mean. But, I've seen your grades, even before Scott got bit or it all got crazy. I know you've been struggling for a long time, honey."
Georgia glanced down at the shaggy rug on the floor, unable to respond. It was quiet for a few seconds before Willow decided to continue.
"Nate was dyslexic, I'm sure you know already," Willow also bowed her head, slightly embarrassed despite how hard she tried not to be, "I was—or, I guess I still am, too. It's just bad genetics, we get it from mom."
"You're dyslexic, too?" Georgia glanced up shyly. It was weird to be open with Willow when not in a high-intensity moment. Like they were choosing to communicate rather than it all bursting out in a chaotic eruption.
"Yeah," Willow nodded, forcing a small smile, "It was really hard when I was in high school, but mom got me help. I had a tutor, and I had a help teacher at school I could go to," she sat up, face brightened at the idea of finally putting in work for Georgia, "I could call the school, have you tested too."
"I'm already in the basic classes, I don't wanna get put in dumb classes without my friends," Georgia worried, shaking her head. She was reminded of how her journalism teacher tried to help her, and the way she lashed out.
"You wouldn't have to switch classes," Willow assured, "You'd still be with your friends. You'd just get a little longer on tests and things where you have to read, and you could stop by the guidance office if you need help going over something," Willow then sighed, shrugging, "You know I can always help you, too."
Georgia cracked a small smile at the way how Willow was so bashful, "Two dyslexic brains equal one normal one, huh?"
The sisters were able to laugh a little together. Willow agreed before she had to go get ready for work. She had a case a town over, and packed one of Georgia's notebooks to read when she had free time.
The sound of a horn honking outside had Georgia scrambling to grab her backpack and tug some shoes on. She jogged downstairs, hollering a goodbye to Willow on the way.
Georgia smiled when she spotted Stiles behind the wheel of Roscoe. She ran on over, getting in the passenger seat.
"Well don't you look cute," Stiles complimented, greeting her with a kiss to the cheek.
Georgia smiled a little wider as she got buckled, "Why thank you, there's this boy at school I'm trying to impress."
"Oh really?" Stiles played along, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road.
"Yeah, he's really hot but also sort of a geek, ya know?" she teased, giggling over her own joke to herself.
"Sounds like a lucky guy," Stiles was blushing a little as he headed towards the school. Georgia turned to face him in amusement.
However, as she continued to study her boyfriend's face, she noticed the hue of purple beneath his eyes. Stiles' hair was also tousled, like he'd been messing with it a lot. He looked exhausted, quite frankly.
"Stiles," she called lowly, earning a hum and quick glance in response, "Are you okay?"
Stiles exhaled deeply. He lifted his hand, running it through his dark curls again. He pursed his lips for a moment before deciding to respond curtly, "Sure. As good as I can be after sacrificing myself for my dad in a pool of ice water."
"Another nightmare?" she asked sadly. Stiles nodded, licking his lips.
"Yeah," he peeked over at her during the next red light, "It's like a never ending loop."
Georgia reached over to grasp his hand, holding it on her lap. She delicately traced patterns onto his wrist with the tip of her finger. Georgia felt awful for the freckled boy, wishing she could do more.
"I'm here, Stiles," she assured. Georgia was aware that Stiles was struggling to even tell when he was awake versus asleep, "I won't let anyone hurt you, the dreams won't last forever."
Stiles didn't respond, lost in thought. They pulled into the parking lot of the school, easily finding a spot. For a few seconds, neither moved. Georgia eyed the plethora of students roaming all around, chatting amicably. She was less than thrilled to be back.
"I'm gonna try to find the girls," Georgia said in reference to Lydia and Allison, "Will you be alright finding Scott?"
Stiles nodded, lifting her hand up to drop a kiss at her knuckles, "Yeah, I'll catch you later."
Georgia smiled fondly, nodding. She scooped up her bag and was out the door, approaching the school building. Her gut twisted uncomfortably with anxiety, something she didn't usually feel.
For as little friends she had, Georgia was a social person. Being in a crowd of people rarely made her nervous. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind or sass off a stranger.
She blinked. That was all it took. Then, all eyes were on her. All noise went mute, everyone no longer talking amongst themselves. Georgia slowed to a stop, brows pinched.
They were staring. So many people. Watching, waiting for something to happen.
"Freak."
She whipped around, trying to pinpoint where it came from. But, nobody had moved a muscle. They just kept that blank expression, almost looking like corpses.
"Killer."
She turned again, blonde strands slapping her cheek. Georgia's heart was slamming against her chest, the noise audible against her eardrum.
Without a second glance, Georgia was running. She didn't bother looking to see if they were still watching, more focused on getting out of there.
As she burst through the doors to the school, all returned to normal. People were busy with their own conversations and day to day lives rather than focusing on her.
Georgia panted as she stood there, regaining her breath. After a moment, someone slid in front of her. Two someone's, actually. The familiar head of ginger hair and her huntress best friend was a relief.
"Georgia?" Allison worriedly frowned. They could both see the frantic haze to Georgia's doe eyes.
"Are you okay?" Lydia asked in addition. Georgia swallowed the lump in her throat, daring a glimpse at the other strangers littering the halls.
"I think so," she nodded, brushing through her hair with her hand. It reminded her of how Stiles did the same only minutes prior.
Lydia and Allison shared a look, the latter pressing her lips together, "Come on," she grasped Georgia's wrist before leading the way back outside.
The other two girls had no choice but to follow their strawberry blonde friend. They headed down by the little tunnel leading to the lacrosse field, where they found Scott and Stiles chatting about their own experiences with death.
"It's happening to you too," Stiles was saying, "You're seeing things, aren't you?"
"How'd you know?" Scott furrowed his brows.
"Because it's happening to all three of you," Lydia made their presence known, gaining both of their attention.
The group of now five students walked together back towards the school. Lydia led the way with a slight air of cockiness to her.
"Well, well, look who's no longer the crazy one," she teased, pushing through the door.
"They're not crazy," Allison tried to defend while Georgia crossed her arms, nodding along.
Lydia pivoted to face them, "Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Yeah, you guys are fine," she said sarcastically.
Georgia grit her teeth, annoyed.
"We did die and come back to life. That's gotta have some side effects, right?" Scott shrugged, fiddling with the straps to his back pack. The school bell was heard ringing, putting a brief pause in the conversation.
"We keep an eye on each other, okay?" Stiles suggested, rubbing his hands together before tossing an arm around Georgia's shoulders, "And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much."
With that, they were off to class.
* * * * *
Georgia never really excelled in art class. She took it just to fill one of the elective slots in her schedule. She wasn't all that great with creating things like drawings or paintings.
Writing was much easier, although apparently she wasn't the greatest at that either. Georgia was offered a seat with Lydia and Allison, but settled in next to Isaac instead.
The two werewolves sat in silence as they painted. Isaac was butchering a portrait of Allison while Georgia continued to dip her brush in and out of paint.
Isaac was concerned about his friend. In fact, Georgia was arguably his best friend. When he was first shifted, Isaac made a point to get on Georgia's bad side. He did it successfully, too. She proved to be a sassy little spitfire, especially after he put his hand on her or spoke poorly of Stiles.
Yet, even after that, it was Georgia who talked him down the full moon when her brother died. Without her, it was unclear what Isaac would've done, if any more bloodshed would've occurred.
Nobody ever looked out for Isaac like that before. Not even Derek. Isaac trusted her with his life, he felt a tremendous amount of respect for her. She reminded him of his dead older brother, Cameron. Her blunt humor and protective instincts were a direct match.
So it worried Isaac when he saw her losing her grasp on her sanity. His brows pinched together, studying the canvas in front of the blonde.
"That's a bit creepy, don't you think?" he was only slightly joking as he called out. Glancing to Georgia, she didn't react. She was entirely entranced in the action of striking the brush into a morbid piece of art, "Georgia? Hey, Georgia."
"Freak."
Georgia flinched, her head jerking to face Isaac at last. The paintbrush fell from her hands, splashing the paint it landed in. Georgia exhaled harshly, her heartbeat racing.
She followed Isaac's eyes, really looking at her piece for the first time. It showed several figures crowded between two cliffs of some sort. Simple, black shadows with crimson red eyes. Overhead, the full moon was the only thing tainting there otherwise noir sky. But, coming down from the moon in a shade of brown, was a noose. The rope tied around one of the frightening figures below, right around it's neck.
"Are you okay?" Isaac asked the same question everyone was wondering. Each time she was asked, Georgia began to debate her own answer more and more.
"Do you think I'm a freak?" she ignored his question, scrutinizing his every pore. She'd know if he lied with ease.
Isaac hesitated, then shrugged, "You seriously freak me out," he admitted. Georgia immediately deflated, making him quick to add on to his initial statement, "but you're not a freak. You don't belong locked in some loony bin or anything."
Georgia sighed, brushing a hand through her hair and studying the odd painting she unconsciously created, "I'm not so sure about that anymore."
"What's up?" Isaac pressed farther. He knew about Stiles' insomnia and Scott's inability to truly control his shifting as of late, but he didn't know how the sacrifices they made affected Georgia.
She shook her head lightly, "I don't know. It's weird. I'm hearing voices, seeing things."
"What're you seeing?"
"People staring," Georgia kept her voice quiet, not wanting anyone else to hear. Isaac wouldn't even be able to without being a werewolf. He leaned in a hair to make sure he didn't miss anything, "Whispers. They all think I'm a freak."
"You're freakish, not a total freak," Isaac's attempt at comforting her only earned him a glare, making him falter, "Okay, I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Georgia assured, forcing a tight lipped smile. She gathered her bag, tossing it onto her shoulder and standing up since it was the last period of the day anyways, "Can you toss my painting? I'm gonna go find Stiles."
Isaac agreed, watching as she left.
Lucky for both of them, he still planned to keep an eye on her.
* * * * *
After school, Georgia decided to go for a run through the woods. Usually she'd run with Willow so she could match the pace of a human, but the older woman wasn't home when Georgia was dropped off by Stiles.
She felt like Bella Swan from Twilight at the speed she ran, weaving between trees and jumping over any little roots. Willow suggested she shouldn't consistently push her limits or else it would be that much harder to hold back later.
It didn't matter. Georgia ran like someone was chasing her, testing to see just how fast Deucalion and Oliver combined were. The answer was crazy fast.
A specific scent caught her off guard. Georgia slid to a stop, sneakers shoveling up dirt at how harshly she paused. Turning with brows furrowed, she tried to recognize the specific smell.
Tobacco. Soft smoke curled around a tree, adding to her theory. Only, it wasn't a cigarette, it was a cigar.
"Hello?" Georgia called out naively, instantly huffing in annoyance with herself. Either way, she continued cautiously approaching to see who it was, "The fuck are you doing this far into the woods?"
Upon turning the corner, Georgia flinched. A hand cupped her mouth in startle, her brain barely able to comprehend what was going on.
Standing there was Georgia, a warped version of herself. She still had brown hair, darkened with how greasy it was. She was deathly skinny, like a skeleton in a tight suit of scabbed, red skin. This sinister version was in camo military pants and a tank top, showing off her arms covered in needle marks and scabs.
"What the fuck?" the real Georgia whispered, quickly turning away and shielding her eyes, "This isn't real, I'm imagining things," she attempted desperately to remind herself, "This isn't real."
"It could've been," that version of herself had a much scratchier voice, likely from years of ruining herself, "If you never got the bite. If Scott and Stiles didn't fuckin' hold your hand and kiss you better all the time."
Georgia whirled around with a glare. She couldn't believe she was arguing with herself, fighting her own hallucination, "That's not true. You're not me, I'm just fucking seeing things."
The fake Georgia chuckled, putting out the end of her cigar against her own arm before dropping it, paying no mind to the quarter sized burn, "You wish, bitch. This is exactly where you would've ended up. Even if Nate and your mommy and daddy were still alive."
Georgia lunged forward in an attempt to attack this vision, but suddenly she disappeared. Georgia was breathing shakily, eyes darting around to try and figure out where it went.
"Help!"
The shout of a voice regained her attention and she bolted, dashing around another few trees before coming to a halt, again, with a gasp.
They were hanging from the tree. Three nooses, all holding up a different person. In the middle was the drug-dependent and anorexic version of Georgia. To the left was Vince, the boy from Eichen who got her hooked, fixed her up, then killed himself.
Georgia leapt to the third one. She grasped onto the tree branch, pulling herself up so she could start trying to undo the knot. As Georgia struggled to free the man hanging, her throat began to constrict. It was like her own oxygen was being shut off, tears prickling her eyes.
A slash was heard, and all went back to normal. All returned to reality.
Georgia gasped for air, clutching at her burning throat. She could feel where little brush burns were healing. Looking around, Georgia realized she was laying on her back against the forest floor, a rope fallen beside her.
"Georgia!"
Isaac and Allison were crouched around her, the latter tucking away a knife. Isaac's eyes were wide and glossy as he stared down at Georgia.
"What the fuck?" she sat up, eyeing the trees. Nobody else was there. Obviously. It was just her, "What happened?"
"You were hanging," Isaac raised his voice a little, gesturing to where the top half of the rope was still tied to the thick branch.
"Isaac," Allison warned softly, shaking her head. Then, she looked back to Georgia, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Did you mean to hang yourself?"
"No!" Georgia insisted, brows pinched, "I swear to god I didn't! I didn't even realize I was hanging until you cut me down."
Allison nodded, believing her, "What did you see?"
Georgia gulped, glancing between the two before deciding she didn't care if they knew, "There were other people hanging. I was saving them. People that I knew who killed themselves—and, uh, this weird version of myself."
"Who were you saving?" Isaac asked curiously. He'd calmed down from his initial whirl of emotions, ready to be there for Georgia.
"My dad," Georgia smiled sadly, "He hung himself when I was four, I'm the one who found the body."
"Oh, Georgia, that's awful," Allison hugged her. Georgia was surprised when she was okay with it, even hugging back.
"It's okay, I only caught a glimpse before my mom pulled me back," she tried to reason, shrugging a little, "It was a long time ago."
"We have to tell Scott," Allison pulled back, keeping a hand on her shoulder, "and probably Deaton."
"No," Georgia argued, shaking her head quickly, "Scott has enough going on. He's suffering, he doesn't need to be burdened with my shit too," she sighed, "and there's nothing Deaton can do. He told us there'd be a price to pay—this is it, dude."
Isaac was conflicted. His face was scrunched, trying to decipher the logical route to take, "We at least have to tell Willow," at her glance of disagreement, he continued, "You would've died if we weren't out here, Georgia. At least tell your sister so she knows to keep an eye out."
Georgia hesitated, debating. There was the possibility that Willow would make it a huge deal and everything would be out in the open.
But, maybe it was a big deal.
"Fine."
Allison smiled faintly, "It'll be okay. You'll—" she was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. Pulling it out, they saw it was her father.
"Go ahead, we'll catch up," Isaac nodded ahead. Allison accepted the call, jogging back the way they came.
Isaac stood, offering a hand to Georgia. She used it to get to her feet, brushing off any dirt on her backside. The werewolves trailed behind Allison, a slight tension notable.
"Why don't you want to tell Scott?" Isaac broke the silence between them. Georgia nearly rolled her eyes, hands stuffed in her pockets.
"Why should I?" she prompted.
"Well, for starters, he's the alpha. Plus, he cares about you," Isaac shrugged.
"I'm an alpha too, Isaac," Georgia looked up at him, briefly flashing her red irises like he didn't already know, "Scott has done enough for me. I couldn't ask for anything more."
They walked mutely for a minute or so. Isaac truly thought about what she was saying and deeper implications. He scowled, "You know Scott doesn't regret saving your life, right?" he asked, not gaining an answer right away, "It wasn't a burden, Georgia, you never were. I know things have been weird between you two, but he loves you like a sister. He'd do it again and again without needing to be asked."
Georgia blinked down at her feet, accidentally dropping a few tears. It felt good, rejuvenating, to have somebody soften her fears and put her mind to rest.
Sniffling, Georgia smiled small at her best friend.
"Thank you, Isaac."