❝In my entire life, I've seen more dead people than living.❞
❝I will kill you and when you come back as a ghost, I will kill you again.❞
In a town filled to the brim with the supernatural, the dead have a lot to say. But is Harley willing...
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Consequences
"FUCK THIS SHIT." Harley muttered as she squeezed her eyes shut.
She was leaning up against a tree. She was drained of energy. She had done that weird travelling thing again and she was now caught up with the shadow demons on the outskirts of Beacon Hills by an old warehouse. It was dark. The only light she had was the moon and the dim street lamp by the road.
She closed her eyes for a moment. She needed to rest for a second. She needed to process.
She remembered Michael calling her name. She remembered his arm reaching for her and his hand trying to desperately grab her. She remembered the pain and fear in his eyes. And she remembered trying to close his wounds in panic before the ambulance arrived.
She opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. They were still covered in his blood.
Tears filled her eyes as she felt a cry rising from the back of her throat. This was her fault. She let out a scream as she hit her bloodied hands against the tree over and over again until the pain searing through her turned numb. Blood caked her knuckles and dripped down her arms.
After one last punch, she had made a dent in the tree, pieces of wood flying off. She crashed into the trunk, leaning her forehead against the rough wood. She had saved her father at the cost of her cousin. She had no idea if either was alive. And the worst part was that she knew deep down if she had to do it all over again, she wouldn't do anything differently. It was too much for her to handle.
Her phone then vibrated in her pocket. It made her jump. She was surprised it hadn't broken yet. She took it out. Stiles. She answered, instantly sobering. It was very likely she was about to walk into her death and she wanted to hear his voice even if it would only be for one second.
"Hey." She breathed out.
"Hey?" Stiles echoed incredulously. "I've been calling you for hours. I thought you were dead and you say 'hey'?"
"Sorry." Harley deadpanned. "Hello."
"I hate you." Stiles sighed.
Harley rolled her eyes. The second was up. "Look, Stilinski, I can't exactly talk right now."
"Just tell me where the hell you are!" Stiles exclaimed.
