SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
condition terminal
"Kinsey. Kinsey, stay with me." Lydia pleaded as she tapped on the girl's pale face. "Please stay." The girl begged as Kinsey stared at her, spaced out as the blood stained her lips a pale pink, she heard the words, that were clear, and she followed them, as though she had a choice. She held that little ounce of life inside of her as strong as she could. "They're on their way. A little longer. Just a little longer, please. Please, Kinsey."
"A little longer." The girl's labored breaths repeated with a weak nod. Her eyes were heavy, even a second felt like a lifetime as she felt the blood gushing from her stomach, taking everything in her with it. She could feel the life draining out of her like a bath plug. Kira warned the girl to save her breath, to focus on breathing, another instruction that Kinsey followed as she stared up at the ceiling with a point of focus, using it to help her. She stared at it. Wondering how it had come to this. How had she gone from being a bored freshly sixteen-year-old girl moving to a new town again to this, a girl, almost eighteen, dying in the arms of her best friend? A supernatural. A form of magical species that was claimed to be able to protect people. And here she lay dying. "Lydia. I need you- I need you to tell him." Kinsey pleaded, tightening her grip on her best friend's hand. Lydia nodded, ready to pass along whatever message she had. "I need you to tell him. Tell him I love him. I love him."
"Stiles will be here soon, Kinsey," Kira reassured the girl. "You can tell him yourself." The Kitsune promised the girl who gave her a split-second glance before meeting the green eyes of her friend again, her other half, a twin flame, the person who knew what she meant.
And she didn't mean Stiles.
Stiles Stilinski's heart was caught in his throat as he emerged at the doorway, the sight of Kinsey wounded on the floor was an image he never thought he would see, the love of his life taking her final labored breaths, and he was frozen. She could barely see him as her vision faded, to her the room was filled with nothing but mumbled voices and fuzzy images that her brain couldn't work out, every bit of energy inside of her worked toward keeping her heart beating lowly.
Theo Raeken pushed past him, whipping off his belt as he dropped down at the side of the three girls, wrapping the leather around the dying girl's waist, allowing Kira a break as she removed her hands from Kinsey's stomach, staring down at the scarlet red blood that had already started to stain her skin. Her hands began shaking as she looked down at them, unsure what to do in the current situation, nobody was, nobody had ever imagined Kinsey dying at their hands. This was a girl who avoided death the way that Malia avoided math. She came up fighting every time, she was undefeatable. And yet here she lay, defeated.
"Hold on, Kinsey." Theo urged the clammy girl on the ground as she whimpered. "Stiles. Stiles, get over here." He yelled at the frozen boy who failed to react, only the slight growth of his eyes as he looked at the deep wound on his girlfriend's stomach, a quiver of his lip, a shudder of his breath. Anything but the movement of his joints that would allow him to be at her side.
