" dude, do you know
who that was ? "
" no . . . "
" that was derek hale ! "
𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 . . . katherine's life gets thrown into a whirlwind after she figures out that her best friends a werewolf. she's pulled into...
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𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 . 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧
Derek's house had been cornered off with police tape being that it was a crime scene. I was taken there later last night to be cleaned up. The boys wrapped up my side, cleaned the blood from the side of my head, and tended to the deep punctures in my ankle where Peter had stabbed his claws in to drag me down. I must have had a panic attack, a break down. It was an emotional night, knowing that I'd either turn into a werewolf or turn into nothing...and die. I had fallen asleep on one of the dusty couches, a warm blanket draped over my shivering body, hoping that I'd wake up to see the next morning.
And I did.
Here I was the next day waking up in my own room. I was warm under my comforting covers, safe and well—I couldn't account for being unharmed. This was definitely not the last place I was. And I wasn't in my own clothes either. They were in a ball beside my bed. My shirt had been partially shredded thanks to Peter's claws and my jeans were ripped, muddy, and covered in blood. Sort of how I was like last night. Someone had changed me, and I didn't remember who but I could make a bet on it. The overly hormonal best friends of mine barely could go near me if my bra strap was showing; they weren't going to change me out of my bloody clothes. It had to have been Derek. I could have guaranteed it. And it wasn't only because I could smell him on the shirt, I could tell the shirt belonged to him by the size.
Waking up, I thought being a werewolf was supposed to make you feel great—like the best I ever felt on ecstasy. But I felt sicker than ever, like I was to weak to breathe and my throat felt tight and dry. I kicked off the covers, feeling flushed and overheated and walked over to my dresser, pulling on a pair of tight, plaid pajama shorts. It was nauseating even moving. Outside, I could hear the sound of a car unlock. I stumbled over to my window and watched Derek walk to his car, sliding in and speeding off, the engine revving. I went back over to my mirror, staring at myself in the face. I looked pale, paler than usual and my eyes looked dead. The dryness in my throat worsened and I decided I had to get something to drink. Descending down the stairs was a job for me, I felt like my body was going to cave in and I'd trip or something like that. But luckily I stayed stable. I walked into the kitchen, Stiles at the fridge and Scott sitting on the counter, and glared at the boys.
"Morning she-wolf." Stiles said through a mouth full of food. This felt like déjà vu from when I got shot, except Derek wasn't here and I wasn't a werewolf.
"Stiles, shut up." Scott mumbled.
"Sorry." He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his plaid shirt, "want some food?" He offered, taking a plate filled with food and holding it up for me to see. I didn't answer. That set me off. A roll of nausea went through my stomach, warm acid rising into my throat, my mouth salivating. My cheeks puffed out and I quickly pressed a hand to my lips, darting for the bathroom. I fell to the floor beside the toilet and lifted the rim as fast as I could, throwing up any of the contents in my stomach. It felt never ending when it really lasted at the most fifteen seconds. Scott and Stiles ran into the bathroom just as I started gagging and gasping for air. My throat burned like it was set on fire with alcohol and I weakly held on the edge of the porcelain. I could feel the blood rush from my skin. Was this how it felt to be transitioning? Scott sure didn't seem like it the day after. There was a terrible pounding in my head and the bite was still stinging just as bad as it did yesterday. I coughed multiple times and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Out of all the things I expected to hear from the guys, this wasn't the first.
