Stiles let out a groan, he felt a painful ache on the back of his head. It was as if a cloth was wrapped tightly around his head, with most of the tension sent right above his back and neck.
He opened his eyes only to shut them once again when he was hit with memories of his lives when he was taken by WICKED. His memories had been wiped multiple times and his life was different every time he was forced to forget. Fake memories were implemented, like his name, what the world was like, his job, etcetera. It was only after he had gotten him memories after being shot by Janson.
The pain he felt was enough to force the memories unlocked. He never told anyone, not even the sheriff, his 'dad'.
"Alright, that is enough. I am much too impatient to wait for you all to awaken. WAKE UP!" The next thing he heard was a booming ring. It sounded like a school bell, but louder, more headache inducing.
Stiles eyes opened to see a dark ceiling above him. He was laying down on a carpeted floor, flat against the soft circular padding he was luck enough to have landed on.
It was only when he heard Scott and Isaac whimper, that he swung into action.
He launched himself to his feet and looked around, freezing at the sight of not only the pack, but people from his memories. The gladers and the scorchers, Annika, Stan, Irene- Annika?
But she had died– Newt was there as well, and Chuck, too. Everyone was there.
Unknown to Stiles, he started trembling. What was happening? Had he finally snapped and gone crazy? Was he dreaming?
Stiles counted all of his fingers one by one.
Ten.
He sucked in a breath.