𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗙𝗧𝗬-𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 ♡

♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 fifty-three

I did something bad.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DALLAS HAD NEVER FELT SUCH INTENSE PAIN HER ENTIRE LIFE.

The fork's frequency rang through her hollow bones while the wood was harsh against her knees. She tried to open her eyes, but blurriness stared back mockingly while tears escaped them. Dallas tried to focus on the words between Stiles and the Assassin. However, that was a bust too. All she could focus on was the pain. Pain from the fork. Pain from Scott. Pain from the world.

The assassin wrapped his fingers around the fork and cocked his head to Stiles. "Take me to the rest of them, or I'll make sure this one rips out her pretty little brain right here and now."

Stiles flickered his eyes down to Dallas, who had her hands clasped to the edge of her temples and anguished hissing leaving her lips. Her nails dug deep into the wood and drew claw marks across the floorboards.

He lifted the fork to slam it against the desk once more but Stiles lifted his hand up and leapt forward towards her. "Stop, stop!" the human swallowed at the gun that was pointed his way. "I'll show you, just stop."

The teacher allowed a sick grin to spill across his face. Before he could take a look back at her, he was being ushered out the door while the gun pressed to the back of his skull.

 Meanwhile, Dallas couldn't shake the helpless feeling from her gut. Like rotting from the inside, each emotion she felt turned bitter from it. All alone and collapsed into herself, she felt like a kid again. Nobody would make her feel that helpless. Nobody had the right. 

She wanted to feel free.

No matter what she did, what she said or where she went. Dallas accepted she would never be like Scott. She wasn't built to be the hero. She wasn't built for happiness. Destruction and fear were all she had. The blue faded away. Now, everything felt a little black. An empty, neverending abyss of black.

Stiles fell against the wall as he was roughly shoved into the locker room. He tried to turn around but had no choice but to hold his hands up in defence as he met the gaze of the pistol. "You still look feverish, Mr Stilinski."

"But you should know something." he mocked. "The virus doesn't kill humans. You'll get better."

Dallas narrowed her eyes from inside the classroom. Scott was convinced she'd fly off the rails again. Hurting people was her nature, after all. 'It wasn't her fault!' But then, 'It is her fault!'

The teacher taunted Stiles some more as he came to a halt. "So, don't you think you should tell me where they are?"

Nobody would hurt her again, nor would they ever hurt Stiles.