Barely Human (But Getting There)

Chapter 5

Unbearable.

Torn muscle constricted around invasive hard metal, trying to force the foreign objects from his flesh to no avail. His ribcage heaved with exertion and every breath burned. For all it was worth, he felt like he was in the universally depicted depths of hell. Funny though, when he'd actually been in hell, the atmosphere had been close to freezing, not a flicker of a flame in sight.

The pain was nearing unbearable and Theo had never been more alarmed. He was terrified by how much he yearned to call it quits, halt it with an open palm, wave a white flag. Terrified by how resigned and how tired he felt.

Yet it continued to taunt him, driving him mad as it wavered tantalisingly close to the threshold of numb unfeeling. That would be such welcome relief, he was almost there...

Almost, but not quite.

The gang was gathering inside Deaton's animal clinic after timely distress calls were made to the both veterinarian himself and Melissa (currently on her way with emergency hospital supplies and painkillers). Parrish had parted ways back at the school to continue his deputy duties, dressed only in burnt uniform pants and an air of law enforcement composure, but not before he procured a singed, deformed, somehow still intact baseball bat to the immense relief of both Mason and Stiles ('I thought I'd lost you forever' the latter had wailed rather embarrassingly, leaving Mason shuffling awkwardly on the side). The rest of them had then filed into their limited vehicles, those more capable wordlessly delegating themselves as drivers.

Theo didn't really remember how he got there, or who was behind the wheel, just that Liam was squeezed beside him, providing a warm comfort. Maybe too warm. The little wolf was burning up.

Right. If he felt the effects of wolfsbane from Monroe's bullets, then that meant the damned first shot had put it into Liam's system too.

In spite of things, they could probably consider themselves lucky that the influence of the Anuk-ite had led many hunters to act rashly without their usual preparation, or else they probably would've faced a lot more poison than they had. Monroe, being the ever so calculating and resentful exception, had made the most of her supply of yellow Wolfsbane, diffusing it in a regular purple mixture and coating just the tip of her bullets to extend the usage. The vile concoction wasn't enough to be fatal immediately, but the burn grew, it gnawed its way up the nerves and singed every throbbing cell it passed.

"Tell yourself it's just a survival mechanism." He said out of the blue without really moving his head.

"What?" Liam whispered back through a tight jaw.

"Your brain is receiving warning signals and then translating it to pain. It's to remind you to protect yourself, which, I think we all know, you're shit at doing." He shifted slightly in his seat, flaring the burn in his back again, and doubled his efforts to feign nonchalance in his voice. "So, single it out like a predator cornering prey. Pull the pain forward and then picture locking it in something secure in your mind, like a box, or a simple drawer for a start. A mind palace that belongs only to you. Other people use this to store memories or knowledge, but it can be altered for pain compartmentalisation."

He looked to Liam then and the young wolf was staring at him with eyes shining in confusion. Had he skipped a few sentences he'd been meaning to say back there? His head was getting a little hazy and it was hard to remember.

"Then you gotta focus on a place that's not hurting. At least, not as bad." He turned back to face the front and added as an afterthought, "Memoiri Loci. That's how I do it."

Great, what had compelled him to share the inner workings of his brain with Liam? He probably hadn't made any sense and now Liam was seriously judging him.