єṅċһѧṅṭяєṡṡ - ṡ.ṡṭıʟıṅṡҡı

49

"Faline, Faline"

Flaine wheezes as her burning lungs gasp for air. Her legs feel numb and unsteady, painfully sore.

Her throat feels dry, so uncomfortably dry. Clothes, her brown hair clings to her form, no different than if she had ran through a rainstorm.

This was her fifth time running around the town of Beacon Hills looking for the citizens. Unable to go on, she stopped running gasping for air.

Being chased was nothing like the movies. The stars look heroic, sexy, and in command of the situation. The reality was far removed from that pretty version of running to save your own skin. No citizens, not anywhere in this small town, they weren't even in their houses.

"Faline"

"LEAVE ME ALONE" Faline screams.

"Faline"

Faline shrieks when Matt appears in front of her. She couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her.

Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. But no one would, no one was there. A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, and she felt a drop run down her cheek.

"Leave me alone," Faline whispers. "Please"

"I'M STILL HERE" Matt roars. "NO MATTER WHAT YOU CAN'T BLOCK ME OUT"

Faline screams, shooting up from her position in Stiles' bed. The boy shoots up from his mattress on the floor and quickly pulls her into his arms as she screams.

Stiles wraps her in a warm swaddle of his chest and arms as she screams.

"It's just a dream," Stiles says in her ear, nodding at his dad who had come to see if Faline was okay. "Just a dream"

Faline nods, her breathing slowing down before she quickly climbs out of Stiles' bed and walks into his bathroom, wiping away her tears and splashing water on her face.

"Come on," Stiles says, lifting his duvet, and Faline slides under it curling up into him.

Her fingers were tightly gripping his shirt, anchoring her to reality as he whispers comforting nothings to her. 

Faline walks into Miss Morrell's office, tossing her bag on the floor.

"Faline,"

Faline is greeted with a warm smile.

"Um hi," Faline says.

"So let's talk about Matt,"

"You know," Faline says. "When you're drowning you don't actually inhale until right before you blackout. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head is going to explode. But when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's actually kind of peaceful, serene even"

"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his final moments?"

"I don't feel sorry for him," Faline says. "I can't feel sorry for him"

"Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?"

"Just because he was dragged into a pool by a bunch of drunk teenagers when he couldn't swim, doesn't really give him the right to do the fucked up shit he did," Faline says. "But not only did he kill those people, he made my life a living hell. Stiles' dad told me that Matt had created some kind of fantasy relationship. There were photos of us that had been edited to make it look like we were in a relationship. Maybe drowning at nine years old messed him up but he was insane"