|| Parasomnia
"Most of these schools require recommendations. Yours will need to be pretty stellar considering your GPA. Tracy?"
The world seemed to swell into focus around the brunette sitting across from Ms. Martin, wringing her fingers as the sound of her own heartbeat was audible in her ears, her breathing heavy.
The senior's attention snapped to her guidance counselor at the sound of her name, letting go of a soft sigh.
Ms. Martin took off her glasses, "Feeling a little overwhelmed?"
"No, I'm...I'm okay," Tracy replied with soft hesitation.
"Have you been getting enough sleep?" Natalie curiously asked.
Tracy glanced down, "Not really."
"You know," Lydia's mother leaned back in her chair, "teenagers have different circadian rhythms. When you're waking up for school your body is still producing melatonin. You all need more sleep."
But it wasn't that Tracy couldn't sleep. She didn't want to.
"It's not just that," Tracy replied, failing to make eye contact.
Natalie's eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean?"
Tracy looked up, "I get night terrors."
"Actual night terrors?" Ms. Martin questioned with an inquisitive look. "Parasomnia?"
"I usually don't remember them," she quietly said without looking to Ms. Martin.
"Usually?" Natalie wondered. "Was there one night you do remember?"
Tracy's eyes slowly met Ms. Martin's, her night terror recounting clearly in her mind. "I woke up to rain. Stormy rain. Then there's pecking. I saw a bird outside my sunroof, but I tried to go back to sleep. I opened my eyes after only a moment of closing them, but the bird was gone. Just...gone.
"But then there was something outside my window. It was wearing a metal mask and a leather coat. I panicked, and when I turn on my lights, it's gone."
Tracy's heart pounded in her chest, fear in her heart as she hesitantly climbed out of bed. Sock covered feet slowly moved across the white carpet and towards the rain streaked window. Her heart beat almost audibly under her skin, threatening to burst through her ribcage at any given moment.
She quickly pulled on the window, sighing in relief as she was met with the fact that it was locked. And with that security, she forced herself to get back into her bed and burrow under her covers. She made herself to turn off the light, nearly in tears as she rested her head back down.
But the wind started to blow.
Tracy gasped as she turned over, finding the skylight wide open. She struggled in attempt to turn on the lamp again, but with no avail, she pushed herself out of bed. She dragged her desk chair over, desperate to cease the rain from getting into her room. Climbing up onto the chair, she forced herself to stretch in attempt to reach the window crank. A light grunt escaped her lips, going up on her toes as the chairs began to tilt forward.
Her fingers slipped from the brass dial, the chair legs dropping down with an alarming thud. Tracy shut her eyes, sighing at the intensity of her panic. She reached up once more, the chair wobbling under her weight. She strained to twist the dial, a flood of relief passing over her as the ceiling window dropped down and she successfully latched it shut.
Tracy's eyebrows furrowed, something feeling utterly wrong as she glanced down.
And before she could react, a metallic hand emerged from below her bed and tore the chair from underneath her.
Her own scream echoed in her memory, eyes averted from Ms. Martin. "My dad found me on the floor, lying beside the chair."
Natalie's eyebrows drew together, "What about the skylight?"
"That's the thing," Tracy said. "It doesn't actually open. It was sealed shut a couple years ago to weatherproof it."
Ms. Martin tried to wrap her head around it, "So some of it was definitely a dream?"
"And some of it wasn't," countered Tracy.
"Honey," Natalie carefully said, "I'm going to propose that most of it was. You know, there's a theory that one of the biological functions of dreaming is to simulate threatening events. It's a way for our brain to rehearse dealing with them. I think you're dealing with normal anxiety, Tracy. The kind very common to seniors."
Tracy softly smiled, wanting so desperately to believe her. "I better go," she finally said. "Class is going to be starting soon..." her voice flickered out, her stomach churning and a dizziness taking a over. "I should..."
Natalie's concern grew, Tracy breaking out into a fit of coughs. "Tracy, are you okay?" She got up from her desk hastily, the senior continuing to roughly cough. "Oh my God, Tracy. God, Tracy." She put a hand on Tracy's back, the brunette starting to heave. "Breathe," she urged, "breathe."
Tracy's hands swung a pencil container off of Natalie's desk, bracing her palms against the surface as her heart pounded. She retched, suddenly spewing a mass of black goo from her mouth, feathers lining the puddle.
Natalie held a horrified expression, pulling Tracy's hair back. "Oh, honey," she expressed.
Black lined Tracy's lips, outstretching a hand to retrieve a bird feather from the mess on Martin's desk. She lifted it to eye level, stabilizing her breath. "Is this common?"
No was the simple answer, but there were no simple answers in Beacon Hills.
||
Jacy sat on the edge of Stiles' messy bed in a fresh outfit of a baby pink cold shoulder blouse and denim shorts, a near blank expression on her face. She held her school bag in her lap, ankles crossed where her heeled boots began.
The door of the en suite opened, Stiles adjusting his blue pullover hoodie as he emerged. "Hey," he softly said as he grew concerned, "you good, Jace?"
Brown eyes flickered up, meeting his with a smile. "I'm good," she assured.
But it wasn't as convincing as she wanted it to be.
Stiles sat down on the bed next to her, taking one of her hands in his. "Do you remember what happened last night?"
"Not really," Jacy replied with a light clear of her throat, hesitating to look over at him. "It's spotty...but Belasko, I remember."
"Belasko?" questioned Stiles with a raised eyebrow.
"The one who attacked Scott. He was killed last night," she told him. "He's the one who passed through. That's all I really remember - the pain in my stomach from his death."
Stiles didn't ask how she knew the wolf's name, instead questioning another aspect. "Do you remember something about 'no second chances' or a 'condition worsening'?"
Jacy lightly shook her head, soft curls moving with her. "Nothing."
"Okay," he said, moving a wisp of hair from Jacy's temple, "that's okay."
"No it's not."
Stiles' heart ached at the look on her face, his efforts to comfort her failing. "Jace, don't beat yourself up."
"I know I'm forgetting things, Stiles. I'm spacing, more often than I should. It's crucial things, and I feel like I'm sleeping through them." Jacy stood up, leaving her bag on the bed and letting go of Stiles' hand. "I can't go near my old house, I don't know how I ended up hypothermic in the den, and I feel like I have no control over my memories. I know something is wrong with me."
"You don't know that," Stiles countered, rising from the edge if the bed.
"I do, Stiles, I do know that." Jacy bit the inside of her cheek, it straining her to speak. "I think it's starting again, and what if I know something that could help, but I can't remember it?"
Stiles shook his head, "You can't live on what ifs, Jace. It's not fair to you."
"Life isn't fair, Stiles, especially not in this town."
"Just slow down for a sec, okay?" Stiles put a hand on her cheek, using the other to take her waist. "Breathe. No tears on the first day of senior year, all right? Today's going to be good."
"What if you're wrong?" Jacy asked with a pained breath.
Stiles ran his thumb along Jacy's cheekbone, the lightest smile on his lips. "But what if I'm right?"
"Okay," she said after a pause, "okay, no tears on the first day of senior year."
"Today's going to be good, Jace," Stiles told her. "Say it."
Jacy couldn't help herself, always lulled by her boyfriend's words. "Today's going to be good, Jace."
Stiles rolled his eyes, "Smart ass."
"But you already knew that," Jacy replied, leaning in and pressing her lips to Stiles'.
"It's hard not to," remarked Stiles between kisses.
Jacy finally pulled away after a few moments despite not wanting to. "I've gotta do a coffee run before class starts."
"Or..." Stiles was grinning like an idiot on drugs, "we could just...miss first hour," he said as he kissed her neck lightly. "I mean, how important is the first hour, anyway?"
Jacy tried to hold back a smile, absently biting her bottom lip. "As much as I would love to, I can't have the same attendance I did last semester."
"I have terrible attendance and I'm still graduating on time," Stiles defended.
She patted his chest, kissing him one more time. "Not today, Stilinski. We'll take advantage on senior skip day though."
"Tease," Stiles jokingly said, letting go of her before reaching for his backpack. "I'm gonna swing by my dad's office before class, but I'll find you before homeroom, okay?"
Jacy led down the stairs, Stiles close behind as she pulled her keys from her bag. "Want anything from Stella's?"
"I think I'm all right," he replied. "Coffee doesn't work well with my meds." He picked up his Jeep keys off of the bureau in the foyer, going out the front door with her. "Who all are you grabbing for?"
"Al, Lydia and Theo," Jacy answered as she walked backwards towards the Honda. "Are you really giving me that look?"
"I don't-" Stiles cut himself off, recalling the conversation they'd had the night before. "Nevermind." He held his hands up, "I'm sorry, I'll try."
Jacy lightly smiled, unlocking her car. "Thank you. See you at school."
Opening the door to her Jeep, he watched after her. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she called before climbing into the driver's seat.
Stiles absently chewed on the inside of his lips, finally getting into Roscoe and starting the engine. He absently tapped his thumb on the wheel as he made his way to the police station in the opposite direction of Jacy.
"Try," Stiles mumbled to himself as he paused at a stop sigh. "I'll try to prove her wrong. Theo fucking Raeken. I'll die again before I trust him."
In minutes, he finally pulled into the station parking lot. He hastily climbed out of the Jeep the moment he parked it. He waved his hand lightly as he made his way inside, being permitted into the back of the station by the morning shift officer.
"Oh, God-" Sheriff Stilinski muttered as he saw his son approaching. "Jesus, Stiles. Go to school."
"Just something real quick, Dad. I swear." Stiles practically pleaded as he exchanged half a wave with Deputy Parrish, following the sheriff. "Wait, why the hell are you here?" he questioned Jordan, having abruptly stopped.
Jordan, not baring any scars from the attack last night, gave a light shrug. "Money."
"Fair enough," Stiles replied as he lifted a hand. He turned his head, making a minute noise in the back of his throat as he had to run after his father. "Dad, listen. Theo Raeken." He skidded into the office, shutting the door behind him. "I know his family left town around the time he was nine or ten, his sister died in an accident when he was eight."
"Please go to school."
"Dad," Stiles stressed, "this kid's a werewolf."
"Your best friend is a werewolf," countered Stilinski. "Your girlfriend is a ghostwolf, Stiles. I still don't know what Kira's supposed to be. Allison came back from the dead. When the flying monkeys come soaring through this station, you will have my undivided attention. Until then, just go to school."
Stiles' eyebrows furrowed, pointing towards his dad, "What did you do?"
"What?" Stilinski glanced down to himself, confused. "What do you mean what did I do?"
"There's something different about you," Stiles hastily said.
Stilinski watched him cautiously, "What are you talking about?"
Stiles took a step forward, unaware of any personal space. "What is it?" he questioned, it genuinely bothering him. "What's different?"
"For the love of God," Stilinski said as he pushed his son away from him. "Stiles, just go to school."
"I will go if you promise to do a full background check of the Raekens."
"No," Sheriff Stilinski quickly said. "You know what? Just because I'm one of two law enforcement officers who knows anything about this, does not make it my responsibility to do something every time you have a minor suspicion."
"It isn't minor, Dad. After Theo was here, he moved to the same place as Jacy. The same high school. Then he comes back after she comes here specifically? How does that not warrant some suspicion?"
"Easy," Sheriff Stilinski replied, crossing his arms, "jealously."
Stiles' mouth gaped open, "Wh-what? No I'm not. I am not jealous."
"Yes, you are," he said with a sigh. "And Stiles, you shouldn't be. That girl loves you so much."
Biting the inside of his cheek, Stiles hesitated with his hands on his hips. "I still want to run a background check."
Sheriff Stilinski rolled his eyes, "If I don't get in trouble for this, you sure as hell will."