The Omen

ꕥ Chapter Thirty-Three ꕥ

The party was in full swing and my body felt light. I giggled along to useless conversations that I listened in on. Peoples words twisted in my mind, turning humorous. I lean against Stiles and run my hand along his arm, laughing as the fabric bunches up. 

Stiles sends me a small grin and wraps his arm around my back, stabilizing me as I begin to lean backwards. 

"Are you gonna apologize to Allison or what?" Stiles asks Scott, his free hand wrapping around my hand that had been toying with the collar of his shirt. 

Scott raises his eyebrow at him, "Why should I apologize?" 

"Because you're the guy." Stiles pokes Scotts chest and I giggle, taking another sip of my punch, "It's, like, what we do." 

"But I didn't do anything wrong." 

"Then you should definitely apologize. See, any time a guy thinks he hasn't done anything wrong, it means he's definitely done something wrong." Stiles turns to me, "Is that right." 

"Usually." I chirp.  

Scott shakes his head, "I'm not apologizing." 

"Is that the full moon talking, buddy?" Stiles coaxed, pulling  me closet to him. 

"Probably." Scott shrugs, "Why do you care, anyway?" 

"Because, Scott, something's gotta go right here. I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you haven't noticed. People are dying. I got my dad fired. You're gonna be held back in school. I'm dating a nutjob." Stiles glances down at me, "And if on top of all that, I gotta watch you lose Allison to a stalker like Matt, I'm gonna stab myself in the face." 

Scotts eyes focus across the pool and his eyes widen, "Don't stab yourself in the face." 

"Why not?" Stiles snaps, his arm falling off my shoulder as I step away from him. Lydia had been handing out more punch and I intended on getting more of it. The more I drank the most I seemed to forget all about our supernatural problems. 

"Because Jackson's here." Scott whispers. 

I walk towards Lydia and grab one of the punch cups, "What did you put in this?" I ask, rocking back and forth on my heels. 

"A special ingredient." Lydia hums, walking over to the punch fountain to fill up more cups. "You should be changing into your second outfit." She informs me. 

I nod numbly, my head spinning as I sip more punch, "The black or the blue one." 

"Im wearing a blue dress right now, Hetha." Lydia snaps, shoving punch in someones face, "The black one obviously." 

I agree and stumble up the stairs, slamming against the bannister as I miss a step. The stairs seemed to be tilting under me as I climbed higher. The lock on my door was moving as I tried to shove the key into it. 

Finally I managed to unlock my door and slide into the room, the black dress was sitting on my bed and I threw off the maroon one. I struggled for a second to get into the dress. It had a plunging neckline and a flared skirt. Once I made sure the dress was properly aligned I threw open the door and walked into my hallway. 

I pause for a moment and glance down the hallway, confused by the lack of music and people. I jogged down the stairs, feeling significantly more sober than I had been when I went upstairs. 

Downstairs there was no one. The pool deck was empty, the living room lacked the couples making out. 

I ran my hands along my arms as chills shot through me. Something was wrong.