REAPING INNOCENCE ◦ STILINSKI [3]

v.

v. RULE OF THOUGHT

○ ○ ○

"RUN!"

Carter was hit with a wave of fear, blistered with panic. Raeven's voice sounded odd, tinged with pain. She willed her eyes to adjust as she sprinted down the dark corridor. At first she could see only shifting shadows, but they soon turned into the shapes of bodies — ancient statues were lining the walls, facing toward her, pointing. She was confined by two walls made of gray stone and covered in spots with thick ivy that reached out and tickled her arms. The walls had to be at least fifty feet high and formed a perfect aisle in front of her.

She once again felt a pressing ache of confusion — she didn't understand why this was happening. It was supposed to be a simple operation. Something to keep the control she had over the Pheanix strong and sure. Different emotions battled for dominance in her mind and heart. Confusion. Curiosity. Panic. Fear. But laced through it all was the dark feeling of utter hopelessness, like the world had ended for her. If she couldn't keep control over what was inside her than there was no point.

She began to think that it was bad karma — bad karma for placing her trust in someone she barely even knew.

Emptiness ate away at her insides, quickly replaced by a sadness that hurt her heart. It was all too much — what did they want with her? How was she doing to survive this? Tears welled up in her eyes — Carter refused, blinking them away. Some instinct took over her actions and without thinking pushed her legs to move faster.

"You're not going anywhere, Caterina."

The voices were low, almost impossible to understand. And then there was the sound of snapping wire. The whoosh of an object slicing through the air. The sickening, wet thunk of it finding a home.

Carter screamed. Her body jerked to a stop, leaning her body against the stone wall to her right. The long shaft of the arrow stuck out from her shoulder, the blood surprisingly less than she was used to, but seeping out and soaking her clothes all the same. Black in the darkness, like oil. She felt the little tears as the rough stone cut into her skin, but she ignored them. Their sting would be healed before she could even think about them.

She could hear their footsteps, sounding like large feet stepping in puddles of water. She ran faster, taking longer strides. Fire trembled down her spine, throwing tight spasms out along her arms and legs. She was trapped, knowing that there was no exit at the end of the hallway. She was cornered, shaking and burning, unable to stand up and fight something that she couldn't see. The entire thing was discombobulating. Dying to kill them. Afraid of getting hurt. Scared of never getting out.

She ran away from them, trying very hard not to think about what might happen next. She began to wonder why she hadn't just left it alone. Oh right, because I'm an idiot, she thought.

A pain erupted in her head — it felt like her skull was being split in half. A scream, blistered with agony, ripped from her lungs. She fell to her knees at that exact moment, gripping the sides of her head with both of her hands, her face furrowed in pain.

An image of Stiles popped into her mind, head cocked at an awkward angle, blood running down the sides of his face until it collected, his body surrounded by fire. Scott's face came next — his body lied motionless, face covered in gashes as his final breath of air left his chest. Jordan — his glowing irises stared at her, they reminded her so much of her own; the two of them had the same fire flowing through their veins. Kira — she was struggling, fighting for control over the bright aura that came from within. Malia — anger, the pulsing in her veins was the only thing keeping her going, it was what fed her hunger for revenge...