Whose Eyes Were Red? [s.m][3]

part 8

Isaac's consciousness flickered like a faulty lightbulb, in and out until eventually his head didn't feel so foggy. His eyelids felt like they were sewn shut with leaden thread, but he managed to pry them open, revealing the dimly lit expanse of the old locker room. The pungent smell of rust and disuse assaulted his senses, only barely masking the more sinister scent of poison that lingered in the air.

To his left, Levi and Scott were slumped against the same wall as him. He could make out the black tendrils on their necks that showed the Wolfsbane poisoning that they'd all received from Allison's coated weapons, and he was sure that he had the same on his own body.

"Scott... Levi..." he rasped, voice barely a whisper, each syllable laced with pain and concern. No response came from either of his friends, confirming his fears that they were out cold, just like he had been.

A shift in the shadows drew Isaac's attention toward the far end of the locker room. There stood Allison, her back to him, shoulders rigid as though bracing against an invisible storm. Her posture was so familiar, yet so foreign under the flickering fluorescent lights that cast an eerie glow over the scene.

Allison spun around, the suddenness of her movement sending a shiver down Isaac's spine. Her eyes widened at the sight of him propped up on his elbows, confusion etching her features into a mask of wariness.

"You're awake," she said, voice barely above a whisper but sharp as an arrow. 

"Allison," Isaac's voice cracked, the sound hoarse and desperate. "It's been a while since I last saw you."

The words hung in the stale air between them, heavy with history and unspoken emotion. Isaac watched for any sign of recognition, any hint of the connection they once shared. Would she remember? Could she?

"How? I don't know you."

Isaac managed a crooked grin despite the throbbing in his head that threatened to split his skull open.

"I'd like to hope you don't," he replied, his laugh a dry, pained sound. "Otherwise, I'd have to be pretty pissed at you for poisoning me and your friends."

"Friends?" Allison spat, her eyes narrowed as she moved closer towards him. "All I know is I hunt werewolves, and werewolves are certainly not my friends."

"You are way more than just a werewolf hunter, Allison." His voice was firm, carrying the weight of conviction even as his body betrayed him with weakness. "You're a friend, an ally, a fighter..."

He paused, the next words catching in his throat, laced with emotion that tightened his chest.

"...and to me, you're more than that too." 

Allison's lips parted, surprise etching her features into a flit of vulnerability. The light from the chipped creaking bulbs above cast shadows over her face, deepening the creases of confusion and denial.