ミ☆ chapter eleven; invisible wounds
[ season 3, episode 5 ]
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Amara couldn't unsee it.
Every time she tried to go to sleep, she would see Derek dying, over and over again. And although actually it wasn't her fault, Amara couldn't help but feel like it was.
He died fighting for the ones he loved.
"Mara," a voice called, pulling her out of the void that slumber had placed her in. "Maraaaaaa..."
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she was met with the sight of Jia, who happened to be annoyingly close to her face, her eyes laced with concern. "You still up for the meet?"
Amara grumbled quietly. That was today, wasn't it?
The girl couldn't go home last night, she had already told Jada to tell their mom she was staying over at Jia's. Thankfully, she had a bag packed before she snuck off, so she had everything she needed for the night. Though she was exhausted, she still took a shower that night. It was much needed.
"It's fine if you aren't," Jia reassured her. "We can stay here and sulk for the rest of the day."
"No," Amara declined, pushing off a bed that wasn't hers and sitting up. "There's safety in numbers."
"Okay." Jia nodded with reluctance, more worried about the state that Derek's death had left her friend in than some stupid meet. "Your bag is in the bathroom. I'll wait downstairs for you to change, then we can head to school."
"Thanks," Amara spoke with a sad smile.
Jia stood up from her crouched position and made her way to the door of the guest room. Before exiting, she turned around. "Oh, can I have the window seat?"
Amara almost laughed. "Not a chance."
She sat in bed for about five extra minutes, reflecting on the events last night once again before rolling out of it to go the bathroom to freshen up.
She almost flinched at her own reflection. She looked like a zombie.
This was going to be a long day.
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Knowing Jia, she would've taken the window seat regardless of Amara's protests. Maybe it was out of pity, but she actually let her friend have it this time, and while Amara hated pity, this occasion was the exception.
The previous night, Amara had been called several times by Scott and Isaac, and every single one was ignored. She had too much on her mind at the moment, which was another reason why she refused to sit next to any of the werewolves.
Amara watched with a glare as Ethan boarded the bus with Danny following behind him. It took everything in her power not to do anything.
Isaac caught her attention from across the aisle when she looked away from the entrance of the bus. He mouthed "are you okay?" to her. Amara remembered that he had spotted her and seen her at the abandoned mall the prior night, so he knew she had witnessed Derek's death.
She managed a nod and a smile, both of which were painfully forced. Her gaze fell back on Ethan, who happened to be nearing their seats on the aisle.
Jia noticed this quickly as soon as she saw Ethan pass their seat on the aisle. "As much as I'd love to see Ethan get what he deserves, I don't think you should do anything right now."
"I won't," Amara denied. "But I can't promise the same for Boyd and Isaac sitting across from us."
Jiayi glanced over at the pair of fresh omegas who both mirrored murderous looks as they stared down at Ethan. The huntress dramatically exhaled, hoping she wouldn't have to be the one controlling all three supernaturals from doing something stupid.
Thinking about it, Amara hadn't genuinely gotten mad since, well, everything. She had gotten upset a few times, but nothing too drastic. Seeing Ethan smiling with Danny like he wasn't the reason why someone she considered a brother was dead sent her off the edge.
The teenage girl knew she wouldn't be able to control her abilities that remained a secret so long as he was on her mind. She needed a distraction, anything that could pull her away from the harsh reality she was stuck in.
She wanted to fall asleep, but every time she got close to doing so, the bus would hit a bump and wake her up again. It was weird. She was incredibly tired after all of the events last night, but she couldn't fall asleep, even after forty-five minutes of trying.
Maybe deep down, Amara didn't want to fall asleep. Maybe she was scared of seeing Derek again. The face of the brother figure that she lost, which was bizarre because everything she had done that night was for his sake.
Why did she feel so guilty?
If Derek was no longer alive, then it meant Deucalion would find something else for her to do. Something that could be even worse than before, and she still had no clue what he wanted from her.
Deucalion had given her answers, but she still had lingering inquiries that kept her up. What could've caused the burns on the locks of Amara's casket? Had it been werewolves who did it, the locks would've been ripped off completely. But they weren't.
Amara was beginning to think there were greater forces at hand. Forces that she couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Amara," Jia's voice tugged her out of the depths of her own mind. The brunette pushed herself off the window that she was leaning on and looked to her seat partner. "Look."
There Boyd was, claws digging into the bus seat, fangs barred, golden eyes glowing. He looked like an animal preparing to pounce, which in this case, he was. If he tried to fight Ethan, the results would be catastrophic for a million different reasons.
Isaac made attempts to calm him down, but nothing was working. Isaac never really was the best at talking others down.
Before Boyd could do anything, a hand slapped over his, preventing him from moving any further. It was Scott. He dropped into the seat nearby, his other hand holding his wound that was supposed to have healed already.
"Let go," Boyd demanded.
"You got a plan?" Scott inquired. "Tell me your brilliant plan, and I'll let go. What are you gonna do, kill him? Right here? And then what? What are you gonna do after that?"
"I don't care," Boyd fired back, attempting to shake Scott's grip.
But Scott didn't move. "I do."
Isaac noticed the black blood beginning to stain Scott's originally white tee. "Whoa, whoa. You're still hurt?"
Realization flashed in Boyd's features. His once angry demeanor became sympathetic when his eyes met the injury.
"I'm fine," Scott dismissed quickly. "Give me a chance to figure something out—something that doesn't have to end with someone else dying."
Reluctantly, Boyd nodded, calming down. "Okay."
Scott stood up, weakly walking back to his seat. The injury the Alpha left clearly hadn't healed, and he wasn't "fine" like he said he was.
They needed to find a place to stop, and quickly.
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Another twenty minutes passed, and Amara couldn't stop glancing behind her to check on Scott's condition. He didn't even notice it, that's just how weak he was. The traffic was only worsening, and it came to a point where they weren't moving anymore.
"Jared, I'm warning you," Coach Finstock started. "I'm an empathetic vomiter. You throw up, I'm gonna throw up right back on you, and it will be profoundly disgusting."
"Please don't talk about throwing up," Jared murmured, feeling the nausea rise up again. "It's not good."
"I might throw up on you just to make a point, Jared."
Jared shook his head. "It's not good. It's not good..."
"Now the rest of you, don't think we're gonna miss this meet because of a slight traffic jam, a minor tornado warning. Jared." Coach informed, earning a snort from Jia. "We're gonna make this thing. Nothing is gonna stop us! Stilinski, put your hand down."
"You know, there's, like, a food exit about half a mile up," Stiles stated, ignoring Coach's order. "I don't know, if we stop, then maybe traffic—"
"We're not gonna stop," Coach interrupted.
Stiles held up a hand in protest. "Okay, but if we stop—"
"Stilinski!" Coach hollered, putting his whistle to his mouth and blowing it obnoxiously, disregarding the nearby kids whose ears he'd leave ringing. "Shut it! Seriously! It's a little bus! Stop asking me questions!"
About five minutes later, Stiles stood up once again, attempting to convince coach to stop somewhere so they could check on Scott.
"Coach, it's five minutes for a bathroom break, okay? We've been on this thing for, like, three hours—" Coach interrupted the Stilinski by blowing on his whistle.
Stiles sighed, but chose not to give up just yet. "It's sixty miles to the next rest stop—" WHISTLE. Being cooped up for hours is not good—" WHISTLE. You know, our bladders aren't exactly—" WHISTLE. "Coach, this is—" WHISTLE. "Can you please—" WHISTLE. "LET ME TALK—" WHISTLE. "I'm—" WHISTLE. "Every time—"
Coach continued to blow the whistle for the next ten seconds. His ability to hold it for that long was impressive. "Go back to your seat, Stilinski!"
"OKAY!"
"This isn't working," Jia finally spoke after she watched Stiles plop back to his leather seat. "Do you have any ideas?"
"Yeah, actually," Amara answered. Jia stood up from the seat to let her friend get through and attempt to get coach to pull over.
She walked over to where Coach Finstock stood, eyeing Jared. "Hey, Coach. We really need to pull over. All I'll say is, I started my period, and I didn't come prepared."
He scrunched his nose up in immediate disgust. Then, he raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Didn't you use that excuse on me last week?"
She tried to contain her surprise. "Nope. That wasn't me. Maybe you're thinking of my sister."
"Pretty sure it was you."
"Oh, yeah! You're right! That was me," Amara confirmed, moving on to another lie. "But, periods are like two weeks in a month, you know that right?"
Now he was completely lost. "Are they?"
Amara nodded, but coach still refused to budge. He itched his temple, "Can't you hold it in or something?"
The Jheung made a face, tilting her head. "No?"
"Try," Coach Finstock said, scrambling to further elaborate on his words. "Just for the next few hours."
"I can't just—okay." she finally responded, not even bothering to continue with the man. She prepared to sit back down. That is, until her brown hues fell on Jared, who had currently been staring at the horizon in hopes of preventing himself from hurling.
A devious smile washed over her features.
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"Jared, you suck! Hey, somebody grab some towels, or a mop...or a new bus."
Students poured out of the large vehicle, covering their noses so they didn't have to bear the scent of fresh vomit any longer.
By the time most of the students were off the bus, Allison, Scott, Stiles, Jia and Lydia had already snuck into the bathroom to check on his wound. Amara didn't want to go with them, as she didn't need anymore reminders of what happened that night, and she most definitely didn't need to see Scott's wound.
Lydia and Stiles came out after about two minutes. Stiles whizzed past her, hellbent on ensuring the bus didn't leave the teens in the bathroom behind. Lydia walked over to Amara, who was very evidently panicking.
"Scott's gonna be okay," Lydia told her, easing her nerves. "It's all in his head. Allison's gonna stitch him up and hopefully it'll trick him into thinking he's healing."
"Okay," Amara huffed, burying her head in her hands. She looked back up at Lydia. "Why is still Jia in there?"
The strawberry blonde shrugged. "Moral support. I'll be back, I need to make sure Stiles is actually stalling properly."
The brunette watched as Lydia speedily walked off. Too much was happening. Scott wasn't healing, Derek was dead, Ethan was there with them, and Boyd was a ticking time bomb. Not to mention, she still had her own private issues. Amara wasn't sure how much longer she could handle all of this before losing her mind completely.
A strong hand grabbed her attention, and before she could see who the hand belonged to, she was being whisked away to a private area, far from the rest of the students.
When she recognized the person, she scowled. "What the hell do you want from me, Ethan?"
"You knew," Ethan accused, his grip on her wrist only growing tighter. "You knew about Derek's plan, and you didn't tell us."
"No, I didn't," she denied, trying to shake his grip, but he didn't let her. He listened for her heartbeat to see if she was being truthful, which she was.
"So you weren't there last night?" Ethan reiterated, intending to get the full truth.
Amara's silence served as a decent response for Ethan, and seconds later, she felt piercing stab shoot throughout her body, the source being her wrist. It wasn't until she noticed crimson liquid dripping from it that it occurred to her that Ethan had resorted to more violent methods.
"Let me go," she warned. Amara could feel herself regaining the rage she tried to let go of earlier.
"Tell me the truth," Ethan spat, ignoring her previous request.
He had so much audacity. Ethan knew all of them were still reeling from Derek death—a death that he played a part in. Ennis may have died too that night, but Amara didn't give a shit about him. All she could think about at the moment was how she wished she could cause Ethan the same pain he caused her.
With those thoughts circulating through her head, Amara felt a surge of power explode into her veins. She mimicked his actions and snatched his wrist as well in response. "You tell me the truth. Who, or what, really brought me back?"
"That's not how this works."
"It is now," she hissed. Something changed in Ethan's attitude a moment later. Amara was seeing red, but it so happened that she actually was seeing red.
Her eyes flashed a fiery orange, one that startled Ethan more than he'd ever like to admit.
The smell of smoke suddenly began to flood her nostrils, her eyebrows lowered in confusion until it occurred to Amara that the source of the stench was her. She looked down at her hands, her eyes widening at the sight of gas emitting from them.
"Let me go!" Ethan demanded, his words matching her own. Amara could almost laugh at the irony. Almost.
His claws dig deeper into her skin, but she was too blinded by her own rage to let the aching get the best of her. It seemed like this staring contest would never reach its end until someone's arm got melted off.
"Is everything okay?"
The sweet, rescous voice of Lydia Martin enveloped the once bitter air, making both supernaturals unhand each other at the same time. Lydia's emerald orbs drifted to both of their wounds, one leaving her concerned, and the other confused.
Amara nodded, though Lydia still eyed the twin in suspicion. She didn't want to leave her there. Lydia gestured behind her, "I was looking for you. I need help with...Stiles."
"Right," Amara played along, more than eager to get as far away from Ethan as possible. She sent him a final look before walking off with Lydia, quietly thanking her for what she had done.
"Are you okay?" Lydia immediately asked, taking Amara's hand to examine her wrist. Her wounds would heal within the next five minutes, but it still hurt like a bitch when the anger bubbled down.
"Yeah," Amara replied, pulling her arm away from Lydia to rub it soothingly with a grimace. "I'll heal, don't worry about it."
Isaac stood next to Boyd, leaning on the brick walls of the bathroom. Amara had caught his eye, and once he noticed her wound and the way she and Lydia were staring at Ethan, it didn't take him long to put two and two together. It didn't help that Stiles had just explained what was happening with Scott as well.
"Amara," Lydia spoke again, her tone more firm. It was enough to make the phoenix look up. "I saw something in your eyes."
"What?"
"I saw it for a second before it faded, but, they were orange. Maybe even red, I'm not sure," Lydia elaborated. "Stiles told me about the bathroom incident a bit ago. Is there something you're not telling us?"
Amara remained silent, considering coming clean to Lydia. She had kept it to herself for two days so far, and each day seemed to be getting more unbearable than the last.
She couldn't tell Lydia that she was probably just seeing things. Not just because she was tired of lying to everyone, but because that was the last thing she needed to hear. Lydia had already felt like she was losing her mind, and she didn't need Amara confirming it for her.
The Jheung recognized the sound of punching, noticing a rowdy crowd a few moments later. Amara wasn't sure what it was just yet, but she was grateful it saved her from answering Lydia.
Well, she was grateful before she realized what had caused the rowdiness amongst the students. Lydia and Amara pushed their way forcefully through all the bodies, stopping at the very center to see Isaac mercilessly landing punch after punch on Ethan, not a single indication that he planned to stop soon.
Amara's jaw slacked slightly at the sight, frozen for a few seconds before looking over her shoulder to see Lydia usher Stiles, who had seemingly disappeared, back to the bathroom, presumably to get Jia, or literally anyone.
While a part of her did enjoy seeing Ethan get what was coming, a fight wasn't the most ideal thing at the moment. Amara hesitated jumping in again when she saw the sickeningly amused smile that Ethan wore with each crack Isaac caused.
Coach repeatedly called Isaac's name, trying to separate him from Ethan, but he completely ignored the older man. Danny tried to as well, but it was no use. They were no match against an angry werewolf.
Thankfully, Scott beat her to it, otherwise she probably never would've done it.
"ISAAC!" Scott yelled, though it resembled more of a roar. The lanky teenager straightened up as he hesitantly releases the Alpha from his grasp. All the anger that had previously engulfed him was replaced with sheer guilt.
Isaac finally took notice of his surroundings and the fact that all eyes fell on him. He looked at Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Jia, then Amara. Everyone looked freaked out, except for her. But it wasn't calming—he found her expression to be unreadable.
"Uhh, Alright, nothing to see here people," Coach Finstock spoke, waving his hands dramatically. "Back on the bus, or you're getting left!"
Slowly, but surely, kids piled back onto the bus, Amara being the very last.
When she made it onto the bus, she saw that her window seat was not only occupied by Jia, but Jia's former seat was also taken up by Boyd.
Amara sent her friend a questioning look, her nose scrunching down along with her eyebrows. Jia shrugged innocently. "He offered me the window seat."
She rolled her eyes, looking to the right of her. Ocean blue hues met cocoa ones. Amara offered a small smile in hopes of reassuring Isaac before plopping down next to him.
It didn't take long before the bus started moving again, and awkward silence enveloped the two. It didn't assist that they still had about two hours to go either.
After fifteen minutes of quiet between them, Amara decided she couldn't take it anymore. "Why'd you do it?"
Isaac didn't jump to reply, and for a moment, the girl genuinely thought he wouldn't. That is, until he cleared his throat. "Every time I see him, it's a reminder of what happened."
Amara bobbed her head up and down. "Oh."
"And I saw what he did," the Lahey added, staring down at his hands. "I saw your wrist."
The teenager turned over her hand to reveal her wrist to Isaac. "Well, as you can see, I healed. You didn't have to fight him."
Isaac clearly did not appreciate her scolding him, and he demonstrated that when he released a dramatic huff as she finished off her sentence.
Amara studied him for a moment. "I'm not exactly saying that what you did was a good thing, but, nobody's ever fought for me before, or anything. So, thanks for that."
Isaac let out a quiet laugh, his head moving from the window and back down to his hands as he tried to mask it.
Amara narrowed her eyes. "What? Is that funny?"
"Nope." Isaac shook his head. "Just glad to be the first."