INHERITANCE
chapter eighty-two ; superposition
[ season six - episode two ]
You know me?
His voice echoed inside of her head as she lay staring at her ceiling. A violent downpour sounded from outside, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as the walls closed in. I know you. California had had its moments of rain since she came here, but nothing like what she experienced tonight. It kept going and going. Going and going. But everyone else is forgetting.
She had spent hours watching the rain swirl around outside, eventually, it grew tiresome. In the hopes she would be able to stop thinking about the boy in her head, she lay down, hoping that it would soothe her to sleep. So far, she had had no luck. If it wasn't the heavy showers leaving her staring at the ceiling, it was the squeaking bed she could hear from next door. And trains. Kinsey hadn't even realized until tonight that the apartment was near a train station.
Don't try to scream. They'll take you too.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she recalled it. Running across the parking lot. The fatal pause between getting in the car, and him being taken. She felt insane. Perhaps she was insane. Was it a figment of her imagination? Nobody else had heard of him. Admittedly, he even had a slightly odd name. But it couldn't be fake, right? She couldn't have imagined all of those intricate details of him. People didn't just disappear though. People didn't just forget that someone existed. She didn't talk to Isaac about it, for some reason, she had an incline not to go on about another boy to her boyfriend, even though they trusted each other, there was something about this boy. She couldn't talk about him like he was just any old boy.
I won't! I won't!
She could still feel the words echo through her hollow chest. The fear still pulsated through her body like she was still running across that parking lot. She still looked around for them, unable to see them, waiting for them to mystically appear like they had before. He was like a fog. He was there, and they weren't. As soon as the haze lifted, she saw those masked ghouls staring at her like they yearned for her soul.
Find a way to remember me. Just remember. Remember.
The room around her began to rattle. Jolting upright, her one hand strewed through her brown hair, the other gripping into her chest as the golden light of a train shone through her windows, honking its horn loudly. Her eyes screwed shut, her teeth gritted together as she grabbed onto the bed, waiting for the noise to pass. When it did, the sound of a door creaking caused her to open her eyes again, seeing Isaac standing breathlessly in the doorway.
"What happened?" he asked, sitting beside her, pulling her into his side as his hands carefully brushed through her hair, trying to soothe her back to quietude.
"Did you hear that?" Kinsey asked, still reeling from it.
Isaac frowned. "I heard you screaming. We all did," he told her, referring to both Chris, Malia and even the hook-up Nathan that Malia had been keeping hidden in her room. Of course, when he'd heard the scream, he was concerned, unaware that that scream was usual to them. Worrying, of course, but usual. Kinsey frowned too as she tried to remember the details of what happened to her.
"No. It was the sound of a train passing through my room," she said softly, entirely aware of how ridiculous it sounded, but it was true. Isaac tried his best to hide his exasperation, but there was no hiding the sympathetic look on his face.
She looked up at him with big brown doe eyes that desperately begged him to tell her that it was real, that she wasn't losing her mind and imagining trains plowing through her bedroom. "Baby, I think you were having another nightmare," he uttered softly, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I mean, you've been tossing and turning all night. That's why I was on the couch."
Embarrassed, and slightly disappointed in his reaction, Kinsey tried to tell him that it wasn't just a nightmare, that she wasn't even asleep. She tried to remember all of the details, the train, the rattling of the room, and the golden lights. He still didn't believe her. He tried to be gentle. There was no ease in telling her that it was another nightmare, he was sure she was sick of them, they were frequent, even more so over the past few days when she spewed some details of a boy she named Stiles Stilinski. Supposedly a friend of theirs, well, frenemy of his, friend of everyone else. There wasn't a train, baby, and we haven't had an earthquake. It was a nightmare.
Sighing, Kinsey gave up with the argument, unwilling to make herself look even more ludicrous as she nodded. "It must have been the storm, it probably stirred up a nightmare." His brows had raised again, her eyes moving to the window, disappointed, but not entirely surprised to see the storm wasn't there, and that was just another thing her mind had conjured.
Isaac planted a kiss on her forehead, cupping her face as he proposed getting her something to drink before heading back to bed. Kinsey smiled faintly, agreeing as she watched him leave the room again, feeling her heart sink as she looked back to the stormless weather. I wasn't asleep.
He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. In the hallway, Chris and Malia stood waiting for him to come out and tell them she was okay. He had only walked to the bathroom, a single moment and he was gone, and all of a sudden her scream was echoing through the entire apartment. "Nightmare?" Chris asked, shuffling uncomfortably. Isaac nodded, biting his lip with anxiousness. "What about this time?"
"Trains," Isaac replied curiously, even saying it sounded a little strange. "She thought that there was one passing through the room. And that there was a storm."
"She's getting worse." Malia deadpanned, her voice in a low whisper. "First this Stiles and now its trains and storms? What are we supposed to do? What does it mean?"
Kinsey sat up in her bed, staring at the door as she eavesdropped on the conversation going on right outside of it. Her fingers twiddled as the feeling of guilt rattled her. They were right. It was getting worse. These "dreams" we becoming more frequent, more detailed and more confusing. At this rate, she was guaranteeing herself a cell in Eichen House besides... someone. Whoever in Eichen she knew, she couldn't remember.
Her books were kept tight to her chest as she walked into the school, stopping at the doors while watching every other student milling around. Her lips couldn't help but faintly pull into a feigned smile as passersby looked at her. She had been a body of walking bones for the past few days, a completely empty vessel, the kind of limp and lifeless that had everyone worried about her. She didn't know why that came as a surprise, everyone wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap, scared of what would happen if she was left alone, even with her own thoughts.
Instinctively, her legs carried her over to locker 1075 as she patiently waited there while her cold fingers tapped away on the back of her book. After a moment, the brain fog cleared and the girl grew a frown, failing to remember why she was there. For a beat, she thought about it until she ultimately came up with nothing, falling back against the cold metal with a sigh. Before walking to Econ, she looked at locker 1075 one last time, stroking her fingers against the blue lock.
Kinsey tried to put everything aside, focusing on her studies rather than the plaguing memory of someone who didn't even exist. She had to act normal, both for herself and for the sake of those around her. Malia sat beside her, and her sister had never been great at discretion. Her side eyes were as opaque as glass. She was trying to hide it, Kinsey gave her credit for that, but in Malia's time of adjusting to human life, social cues were something she still had to work on.
She tried not to look at her, focusing on her textbook instead as she picked up her highlighters. Most of it, she managed to color in a shade of green, the occasional line in yellow, and since she had been focusing hard on Economics, none in red. She peered over to Malia who was using the same tactic, only she could see red on Malia's page. Most of it in lines, as one would expect. But a single word stood out to her. A single word that had confused Malia. Style.
Malia hadn't seemed to notice any similarities, not seeming to put together that the word "style" was almost identical to the name that Kinsey begged them to remember. As the late bell rang, a flustered redhead ran into the room, taking her usual seat behind Malia, the one behind Kinsey empty. She could have sworn it wasn't usually empty. She looked over at Lydia who seemed as on edge as she did. Kinsey hadn't talked to her about the whole "Stiles Stilinski" thing, her best friend had always been brutally honest, and she felt as though everyone had taken on that. She couldn't handle Lydia calling her insane. That was when it would truly mean something.
You okay? she mouthed to the Banshee who nodded unconvincingly. Faking a smile the way the brunette had been to everyone else.
Kinsey turned back to the front of the class, only to find that their teacher Miss Flemming had been replaced by a dark, ghoul-like creature. Its eyes were black as the night. The horrifying face was hidden slightly by the cowboy hat he sported. The hairs on her body stood tall, a lump grew in her throat as she stared at the Ghost Rider, and he stared back at her.
"I'm impressed with most of you." Ms Flemming's voice sounded, startling Kinsey as the woman re-appeared at the front of the class with a stack of test papers. Kinseys cold fingers brushed her hair out of her face as she looked around for the Ghost Rider again, but he was gone, leaving the cold wind of a storm behind. "It really speaks to your study habits and your commitment to your own education. Everyone else?" her eyes travelled to Malia. "See me for extra help." Flemming's feet stopped in front of Malia's desk as she laid the test paper from last week on it. A big "D-" in the corner written in the boldest of red inks.
As Flemming walked away, Malia narrowed her eyes at the woman, growling under her breath as she gripped onto the edges of her desk. So hard that her claws came out. Lydia's hiss of the girl's name caused Kinsey to turn toward the coyote too, both of them scolding her to put them away. Seeing that the coyote was losing control, Lydia immediately tried to distract Flemming, calling for the woman.
Before she could say anything, Flemming cut her off. "I already told you, Lydia-- I don't give extra credit for alternate equations based on your own theoretical findings." As the woman continued to pass around the tests, Lydia turned her attention back to Malia who's clawed hands wrapped around her sister's as Kinsey tried to talk her down.
"Lia, listen to me. You can control this." Kinsey whispered to her, cupping the girl's hand. Malia's breath was shaky as she stared at her sister. "Control it Malia. Put the claws away." Snapping out of it, Malia managed to retract her claws before anyone could notice, staring at her hands as she sunk into her seat.
Lydia's alarmed expression matched Kinsey as they both turned again, shaking their heads, all of them wondering what was happening to them. Why they were all going completely insane. It was strange. Nothing had ever affected them all like this. Kinsey settled back into her seat, her chest heaving as she tried to figure out what was happening to them. It was as she put her head back slightly that she noticed someone in the corner of her eye. She quickly jolted upright in her seat as she looked at the woman beside her.
The woman wore scrubs and a white lab coat, casually sitting there in the classroom, staring at her. Kinsey looked around, wondering why nobody else seemed to find it strange that this older woman was sitting in their class. Nobody was even looking at her. Not even Lydia seemed to be paying attention to her.
Kinsey leaned closer to the woman, her voice low. "Excuse me, who are you?"
The woman turned in her seat, allowing Kinsey to see her name on the lab coat. Dr. Sandra Hugo written in blue. Her eyes were wide as she looked at the teenage girl, but she didn't utter a word. What are you doing here? Kinsey asked again, still receiving no answer from the woman.
Dr. Hugo's mouth gaped in shock as a golden light came toward her. Just like Kinsey saw just last night. Much like then, the classroom began to rattle around her and what appeared to be a train passed right next to the school, causing a high-pitched squeal so loud that the girl pressed both of her hands to hear ears, flinching in pain. After a moment, it passed and she looked around in a panic, expecting to see the doctor again, instead, she was met with the stares of her classmates, all of them looking at her with a deep concern. Even her own sister and best friend.
She didn't know what was real and what was in her mind anymore.
Still unnerved, the brunette rushed through the school halls, heading straight for the entrance in the hopes of catching up with Dr. Hugo and getting answers to what her premonitions meant. As she made it to the double doors, pushing them open, it went from day to night in an instant, her feet falling slack as she came to a stop. She looked around at the empty parking lot, the leaves in the air as a strong gush of wind blew them around.
Kinsey caught her own reflection in the window, her brows furrowing as she looked down at her body. She was no longer wearing the jeans and sweater she had put on this morning, but a navy dress, black and tights and boots. Just like she had worn the other night, the night she believed she had lost someone in this parking lot, swearing that someone else was here.
As that thought crossed her mind, she heard a voice howling in the wind. You know me? It said, her head whipping around to find who it was coming from. Oh, thank God you know me! Kinsey felt the wind brush against her skin, tousleing her hair as the wind grew stronger. She remained alone, nobody but her, the voice, and the wind. Do you see him? The male voice asked her. Her instinct was to say no, as though she had said it before, but her eyes squinted looking for what the voice was talking about, her eyes settling in the distance as a man stood in the shadows, a churning in her stomach as she looked at him. I see him, her voice muttered weakly.
Her hand was outstretched, as though she was gripping someone's hands. Suddenly, the Angel was pulled in the opposite direction of the man in the shadows, and she followed, as though her body was following muscle memory. As a Ghost Rider appeared in front of her, the girl came to a sharp halt. This way! the voice shouted, and she was pulled by the force again, doing every Rider that appeared.
Soon, she was surrounded. Her heart was in her chest, waiting for the voice to help her get away from them. They're everywhere! His voice shouted, her hair whipping around her face as the girl tried to find a way to escape them. You will forget me.
I won't. I won't! She screamed after it desperately, running after the voice to find who it was. An arm grabbed hers, pulling her back. "Kinsey, look out!" Malia's voice shouted, tugging her sister out of her premonition and into the real world where she had almost just gotten herself hit by a car. They honked at the girls as the drove past, yet Kinsey didn't seem phased by it as Malia and Lydia tugged her to face them, seeing the lifeless expression across her face. "Are you okay?"
Kinsey sighed, looking at the redhead who's eyes were wide, wondering why whatever she had seen was only her. They shared everything. Even their premonitions. Why now? Why was it this time that was different? "I'm fine."
Neither her sister nor Lydia were satisfied with her answer, both worried and confused. "What were you doing?"
"Trying to remember."
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Cold blue eyes pierced through the darkness as she took careful steps down the staircase, her one hand gripping onto the railing until her skin had turned as white as snow. The other being occupied by Lydia's tight grip as she tried to guide them both through the darkness leading to the boiler room.
Neither of them quite knew what to expect, only that Malia was here, and that she'd asked them to join her. That was as much detail as she had given before the call cut out from lack of signal in the basement. It failed to fill either of them with confidence.
They didn't understand what would bring Malia down here. She hardly liked being at school in the day, when she was supposed to be there, let alone coming here after hours to explore some dark, creepy old basement. As far as they were concerned, Halloween wasn't for almost another seven months.
In an attempt to distract herself, Lydia tried to talk about something else, a topic that Kinsey had been avoiding like her life depended on it. Of course, that hadn't changed. She didn't want to be any more crazy than she already felt, she didn't want to dwell on the voices, the strange people appearing in front of her, any premonition of any kind was off of the table. I'm fine, was as far as she talked about it, and despite telling the lie for days, it wasn't becoming any more convincing, no matter who she lied to.
As the two girls moved through the shelves, Kinsey called out, hearing Malia reply from in one of many dark corners. They followed her voice until they found the coyote next to another shelf, a shackle around her one wrist and she tried to do the same to the other. Kinsey and Lydia were in a state of awe, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing.
"Has it really come to this?" Lydia sked.
Malia rattled her right hand that held the shackle. "Give me a hand?" she asked.
"If this is a new after-school club... Count me out."
"I've got a problem." Mlaia sighed frustratedly, trying to shackle herself alone. "I'm growling at people in class, I'm clawing at my desk." She listed, dancing around the last one, perhaps what had made it so obvious she needed help. "I tried turning the floor of my bedroom into a coyote den." Kinsey's brow raised, her finger lifting up, wanting to draw back to that last one but Malia quickly moved on. "Do these look familiar to you?" she asked, looking between the two of them.
"No." they answered simultaneously. "Why would it?" Lydia asked. "Malia, do you really think this is going to keep you safe?
"They used to!" She snapped angrily. "Before the lake house, this is where I'd come for the full moon. But you weren't down here with me. Scott wasn't down here with me... You weren't-" she said, nodding at her sister.
"Right." Kinsey nodded, knowing that. "So... who was?"
To demonstrate her point, Malia held up her hands, as her left wrist had been shackled, but her right was still free, only holding onto the shackles. She tried to pull her hands together, but the lack of chain stopped her, she couldn't touch her hands together. Proving that someone used to be down here with her, she physically couldn't have done it alone, someone had helped to lock her up every full moon.
Lydia's phone buzzed, drawing their attention as she pulled it out, pausing for a minute. "It's Scott."
Before they knew it, the three of them were pulling up to the preserve in Lydia's blue Toyota. As they all climbed out, Scott came walking toward them, handing them flashlights. "I went to bed at home, and I woke up out in the woods, about a mile out." he told them, jumping right into it as he led them into the preserve. "I think there's a reason why this happened. I've been out here before. It was the beginning of sophomore year, the night before tryouts for first line. It was all I could think about."
"What were you doing?" Kinsey asked him, shining her flashlight around.
"I was looking for a dead body."
He peered over his shoulder just in time to see Lydia's face contorted with disgust, telling him it was morbid. It was a little different actively coming out here to search for a body, at least in all of the times she or Kinsey had found them, it wasn't purposely. Scott nodded, it was morbid, and it wasn't something he believed he would do alone, which left the question- who else was here?
The three girls shook their heads, unable to help him. Kinsey didn't even know him, Lydia didn't either, really. And, as Malia so pleasantly put it, she was a coyote back then, she probably tried to eat it. His lip curled up, not dwelling on her comment. He had already talked to Deaton about it, the man assumed that his subconscious was trying to tell him something, he needed their help to figure out what it was saying.
Lydia sighed, thinking about it for a moment. "Maybe you were just a curious teenager?" the girl said with a shrug. "You heard there was a body..." Before she could finish, Scott interjected. That wasn't possible. He never watched the news. He didn't have a police scanner. Kinsey proposed it could have been his mom he heard it from, she worked at the hospital, perhaps someone called to tell her and she overheard it. Scott shook his head, stopping in place as he turned to face the three of them. His mom wasn't home that night.
He paused, trying to think about the loss of his memory. "I live five miles away from here. How did I get here?"
"You drove?" Malia deadpanned.
"You ran?"
"I couldn't have. I had asthma." Scott continued to trail through the woods, still rehashing that night, trying to figure out the missing piece, waiting to remember what had brought him here. Or who. "I was hiding, but they knew I was here.""Maybe you made a ton of noise with your asthmatic breathing?""How would they know that it was me?"
The three girls considered it for a moment, but none of them had a sufficient answer for him. It was strange, that they could admit. They didn't know enough about him back then, or what had happened that night to be able to give him the answer that he wanted to hear. Scott paused yet again, having a flashback of that night, remembering Sheriff Stilinski shouting at him as he took a peek around the forest with his flashlight, the boy himself hiding behind a tree, taking raspy, short breaths and closing his eyes in the hopes he wouldn't be caught.
Scott turned back to the girls once again with yet another question. Why would the Sheriff even think I would be out here? Lydia proposed that, because like most of the deaths in this town, it was related to the supernatural. The Alpha smiled, that was true, though he was still confused. He wasn't even supernatural then, that was the night that he was bitten. He wasn't a werewolf. He wasn't out here alone.
In search of answers, the four of them drove to the animal clinic, gathered around a table as they each sought more ideas from Deaton. He always knew the answers, this time they hoped for no different. If anyone knew what was happening to them, what had happened to this boy they all claimed to remember, it had to be him. In the darkened exam room, they surrounded a piece of greenish-blue glass that Scott had retrieved from a broken car in the impound lot. Still unsure of why he had ever been there in the first place. It hung in a small jar, illuminated by an LED light as across from it, the two harbingers of death sat.
Scott and Malia both looked at Deaton, waiting for him to explain what he wanted the two girls to do, all of them clearly skeptical about it. Their talents didn't come without skepticism, there were no definitive rules when it came to the two of them, no straight and narrow path to follow that would get them where they needed to go. Only wishful thinking, trial and error, hope. "Now they just magically write down the answers?" Malia questioned with a slight scoff.
Deaton patiently smiled, telling her it wasn't that simple. It never was, Kinsey chimed in with her eyes rolling. Deaton turned to the two harbingers of death, handing them each a pen and paper. "In automatic writing, the hand moves outside of any conscious awareness. Now, hopefully, the silence, the darkness, and the light will allow you to find a more comfortable trance-like state." he explained to them. "Girls, I want you to stare into the light, and let go of all thought..."
They did just that, staring at the glass in the jar blankly, their bodies relaxing. Though one found it much easier than the other. Lydia slipped into her trance-like state, beginning to scribble over her sheet of paper, for a moment, the other three watched intently, struggling to figure out what she was writing or drawing. Then, their eyes were drawn to Kinsey who was yet to write a thing, not only that, but she didn't look relaxed at all anymore, her hands were shaking, her eyes were moving rapidly behind her eyelids.
"Kinsey?" Deaton softly whispered.
Her eyes shot open as she dropped the pen to the paper. "I can't do this." she shook her head, a sea of tears swelling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just can't."
"It's okay," Deaton reassured her, moving her away from the piece of glass. "Why don't you take a breather outside? I'm sure we can use whatever Lydia gives us. Don't worry about it."
The brunette nodded, weakly smiling at Malia and Scott, feeling guilty for disappointing the two of them, but frankly, the idea of going into a trance-like state again terrified her. All the times she had done it before rushed back to her. All the times she had been inside someone's head. Some of it felt like it was missing, she had to admit, but nonetheless, those missing parts seemed just as horrifying as the ones she could remember.
With Lydia still scribbling away and Kinsey outside trying to calm herself down, the other three stepped away, turning their backs to the girl."I have to warn you... We may not be able to access these memories."
"Why not?" Scott asked.
"The legend has always been that the Wild Hunt takes people. But, if what you're telling me is right, the truth is much worse. They erase people from reality."
Scott glanced over at the redhead sitting alone at the table, scribbling quickly. He turned back to the man, asking how they remembered someone who had been completely erased. Frankly, the man didn't know. Lydia's writing became more intense, erratic. As she scribbled, the girl jerked in the same back and forth motion of her hand on the paper. Just as Malia noticed her frenetic movements, her head jerked toward her as she spoke to Deaton and Scott to get their attention.
"Maybe he hasn't been..."
The three stopped as they watched Lydia pace backwards and forward, questioning whether to stop her. Scott was about to rush forward to bring her back, but Deaton holds up a hand to stop him, slowly stepping toward the girl himself as he gently tried to get her attention. Lydia? Lydia? Slow down. He said softly, but she didn't react. Not until he shut off the light that illuminated the glass shard, immediately causing her to drop the pen and sit back in the chair.
Still in a trance, the girl remained silent. Deaton and Scott lean forward to take a closer look and try to get her attention, but she didn't even seem to know they were there. Is she okay? The boy asked. Deaton placed his hand on Lydia's shoulder to speak with her face-to-face, but Lydia's eyes were still fixed on the top of the table.
While they tried to help Lydia come out of her trance, Malia slides the sheet of paper Lydia had been writing on. Her eyes narrowing at the word "Mischief" written all over the page in tiny letters all over the page, seemingly in random waves. She held the paper up, calling for Deaton and the Alpha to see, questioning what Argent had to do with it.
Scott turned toward the paper, examining it closely, after a moment, his face turned grim as he saw the true message. "That's not what she wrote." he muttered, pointing out the hundreds of scribbled words that composed the word Mischief. A single word. A name. STILES. Instinctively, his eyes traveled to the empty seat beside Lydia, his brows furrowing as though someone was sat there a moment ago. He turned back to Malia, the two of them sharing a concerned look. A moment later, Lydia finally spoke up.
"Where's Kinsey?" the redhead asked, also looking at the empty chair. She looked back at the other three, only to be met with three confused faces. "What?"
"Who's Kinsey?"
As passing cars' horns blared, the brunette's hands gripped tighter around the wheel. She felt on edge, like there was a ticking clock that replaced her heart. Her driving was shaky, in and out of the lanes as the GPS played a quite tune. Perhaps she shouldn't have just abandoned them all at the animal clinic, she could have at least explained to them what was going on, the feelings that she felt inside, maybe they were even useful feelings, but right now, all she wanted to do was to go home, to see Isaac and to take a breather. She could always text them an explanation when she got home. She was sure they were busy with Lydia anyway, it could take hours for her to see a useful message in her subconscious.
At the thought of returning home to see Isaac, she dialed his number, patiently waiting for him to pick up. "Hey-" the girl began as soon as the ringing stopped. "I was just calling to say that-"
"Who is this?" he interrupted.
"It's Kinsey?" she mumbled suspiciously, checking twice to see that she had dialed the correct number. It definitely said Isaac on the screen, and he was the only Isaac she knew.
"Kinsey...?" he repeated with clear confusion. "I don't know a Kinsey."
"Ha ha ha. Very funny, Isaac." the brunette rolled her eyes. "Seriously-"
"How did you get my number?" he asked, his tone much more serious, causing her face to drop as she began to wonder if this wasn't a joke after all. Kinsey stammered, unsure what was going on. Unsure whether this was his sick way of making fun of what was going on with her, or if this was really happening. If seeing the Ghost Riders had finally caught up with her. If she was going to be taken as part of the wild hunt. "Whoever you are, however you found this number, leave me alone and don't call again." he spat out before hanging up.
Kinsey's hand lowered the phone from her ear as she put it on the passenger seat, looking at it with a furrowed brow. As her eyes turned back to the road, a man on a horse stood in the middle of the road, causing her to slam her brakes on as she squealed. Just inches in front of the horse's face, she sat with her eyes wide and her hands wrapped tightly around the wheel.
If you see them, that means they're going to take you too. Her own voice echoed in her head as she shifted in her seat. "No. No, no, no." Kinsey mumbled to herself, shaking her head as tears began to fill her eyes. The Ghost Rider looked at her, raising his gun at her, his finger hovering on the trigger as her eyes screwed shut.
Bang.