'people don't always get what they deserve in this world.' lemony snicket.

season 1, episode 2
second chance at first line

Neviah knew she would never be okay from the day she lived, and Cora Hale and Lilith Alexander didn't. And at nearly twelve, she accepted that as the first solid truth in her life.

Locked behind her eyes was the entrance to the floodgates. Behind the face she grew into and adored, was a part of her that could never be found. For a long time, Neviah believed life was one big adventure that she would experience with her three closest friends—her sisters. Now, she burned the last bridge and left herself to survive alone.

By the time she hit twelve, she learned how to glue the pieces of herself back together because no one else would. They wouldn't understand. Not the way she needed. She used gold to fix the cracks and bind pieces together again. No one noticed. No one questioned. No one cared. As her second and last solid truth, she understood she would be the only one who would love her.

She knew her scars and demons and didn't fear them. She didn't need to invite someone into her darkness. They would only try to invent light to fix it. Light only existed in the absence of darkness. It didn't mean the darkness stopped existing.

Tears would bud in her eyes, but she would blink them away and continue to blankly stare at her ceiling. She spent the entire weekend lying above her comforters, eyes wide and unfocused as her mind burned. A fire grew from a little spark. It managed to remain strong in the sleepless hours. Barely wavering at distractions like her dad forcing her to eat or her body screaming to do its bodily functions. She only knew how to let the fire consume her like it was supposed to.

The little spark was named Derek Hale. There wasn't much to say. Just another person who left after promising they wouldn't.

It stayed strong as the fire that burned the Hale house did. Like that fire, it burned Neviah. Not literally, but she felt it as if it were that day again. The flames sliced her skin with the desire to burn brighter. Smoke filled her tiny body. She deserved it.

She blinked again, reminding herself that she survived. It was both positive and negative. She teetered the fine line. Surviving when others didn't. Accepting that she lay in bed while their graves lay empty because their children's bodies were nothing, but ash and bones was the hard part. It made her sick.

"It should've been you."

Neviah rolled her ring as the neurons in her brain activated with the rising sun. A blazing orange light collided with the midnight blue. It gave it light to combat the darkness. Its glorious rays mocked her. Cold metal gave her a nudge out of the storm.

She stepped into the eye of the storm. Silence found her. Her thoughts were muffled. She focused on the ring on her finger. Stiles gave it to her for Christmas. It came as a surprise and bubbled into anger. The two hadn't given each other gifts since they were ten and friends. He had poor timing and didn't know it. How dare he try to weasel his way back into her life? How dare he be the only one to acknowledge her that day? She wanted him to match her anger but lit something else in him. Her attempts to press his buttons brought him closer. He closed the gap between them.

Neviah shoved the memory away. It was nothing more than a ring, regardless of its source. Nothing more, nothing less.

Neviah wore it as if it was gifted to her by a real king.

Nothing more, nothing less. It was just an object with little value besides its beauty. The memories laced with it meant nothing. Just fun in a time of need.

Someone knocked on her door. "You up yet?"

She didn't try to answer.

Damian entered with a knowing look. Neviah didn't need to look at him to see it, it radiated from him. "You didn't get any sleep, again?"

She looked at him with a shrug. He rarely pried. Out of cowardice or lack of care, Neviah didn't know.

"Come on," he urged, stepping into the room. He sat across from her at her vanity. It was as close as he ever allowed himself to go. Though she never gave him the chance to get closer. "You can skip, Neviah, you should have skipped yesterday. You need sleep."

Neviah was often told she was her father's daughter; a replica of him from her personality and looks. But she didn't get her dark eyes from him. Hers were forever painted with pain. She had pieces of a woman she barely remembered. She often wondered if that's what deterred Damian from her. Was she more like the woman who left them than her eyes? Did she share her selfish qualities? Did her greed come from her?

"Is Derek back in town?" she asked. Her voice scratched her throat.

He stared at her. He didn't attempt to open his mouth. Silence was her answer, giving her the truth he wouldn't. He couldn't. Cowardice or lack of care?

"Have you been talking to him?"

Damian nodded sharply. "I told him you might not want to see him."

"I don't." She looked down at her hands. Clean, untouched by mud. She existed in her own room. She wasn't in a burning building. She twisted the ring. "Tell him to stay away from me." She bit her lips and met her dad's gaze. "Please."

"Okay," he responded, placing his hand over hers. His hands radiated warmth she didn't have the capacity for. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Neviah shook her head. The word 'yes' was too heavy on her tongue. The words explaining why were even heavier. Only a lie weighed the lightest.

"No thanks."

He nodded, standing up. He didn't believe her, but there was no point in pushing. He knew better than to fight her. He planted a kiss on her forehead and walked out. The spot on her skin stung.

It took her a moment, but Neviah stood up. Ignoring the unstableness of her legs, she walked to her bathroom and showered. Cold water beat on her skin as a reminder. She was still there. Water beat on her skin. Fire did not tear into her flesh.

When she exited and clothed herself, Neviah paused at the mirror. Gazing at the person in the mirror, she didn't know who it was. Remnants of a girl who should have died stared back. Broken and lost. Instead of wallowing, she did what she knew best. Picking up her concealer, she sculpted the person she remembered. And all the missing pieces were filled with gold.

༻❁༺

"Everyone has something that weakens them," Neviah explained as she stared absently at the students walking to their classes early. "Fears, people they love or hate, memories. You just need to ask the right question, and you've got everything without needing to know everything."

Jackson's eyebrows knitted. "How?"

"You'll know when you know," Neviah answered, tilting her head to Lydia. "Ready for Math?"

The redhead rolled her eyes and nodded. She kissed Jackson, hovering over his lips afterward. The two shared a look, communicating without words. It was disgusting. Lydia joined Neviah onward.

"You two fix...whatever was going on between you?" Neviah asked, not actually caring for an answer. It was the principle of things. You ask the obvious and obscure questions even when you don't care because somewhere in you, you do.

Lydia hummed. "Turns out an injury leads to make-up sex. Lots of it."

"No. Ew, gross. I didn't ask to know that."

She laughed. At least one of them was in a good mood. She could feed off Lydia's high energy. "What about you? Did you get any this weekend?"

Just before entering their class, Neviah paused. She smirked. "That's for me to know and for you to dot dot dot." She entered the room, sitting in her seat.

Lydia sat in front of her, turning towards her with her legs crossed. "Ugh, come on, Nav. I need to know if you've got someone before the Winter Formal." Neviah rolled her eyes. This conversation again. "Obviously I'm going with Jackson, Allison with Scott. You're the only one who needs a date."

"I'm going solo. Like I did last year, and like I'll do every year after," Neviah responded. She stood her ground. Any unlucky soul would come out disappointed she wasn't as they expected. They only wanted her one way. She could pretend for them, but at a distance. "Besides, who else will take the girls who got stood up, out after, if I'm with someone? Greenburg?"

Lydia groaned. Before another word could roll from her tongue, Malikai came over with a message.

"Scott's not playing the game."

He walked around to his seat across the room, sending Neviah a look. Anxiety rippled off him. Her face stayed the same neutral expression as she sat down. Internally, however, a storm reformed. Wind whipped, knocking objects around. Lightning struck. Heat radiated from its landing.

While she kept everything concealed, Lydia clenched her jaw and faced forward.

There was a foundation for sports. Scott took out a support beam—Jackson—leaving two to carry the team to victory. Possible with Malikai's skills and plans. Then, Scott decided to take out another for his own selfish reasons. Not thoughtful of his teammates. Selfish people often didn't think of others. She knew because she was one. She looked at Mal, seeing how relaxed he presented himself despite the anxiety rustling in his brain. His foot bounced, knee banging on the desk every once in a while. She wondered how the rest of the team was doing if Malikai was stressed. No, actually, she didn't. It sounded like a panic attack waiting to begin.

She needed their first game of the season to be a good one. Even if she went to great lengths to achieve that.

"Neviah, Lydia, and...Scott, come do the questions on the board." Seemed like luck was on her side.

The three stood at the board in order, starting their questions. They were relatively easy. Though her mind was slightly behind due to the lack of sleep, Neviah was nearly done when Lydia decided to speak. Scott hadn't even begun.

"Why is there a rumor going around that you're not playing Saturday?"

"'Cause I'm sort of not," Scott answered quietly. Glad to know he knew his actions were most definitely being frowned upon.

"I think you sort of are," Lydia responded, not caring—or maybe she didn't notice—about his upset mood. "Especially when you brutally injured my boyfriend by ramming into him."

"He brutally injured himself by ramming into me," Scott defended. His temper had a shorter fuse than she remembered. He sounded like his father.

Neviah chuckled. "And yet, you're perfectly fine."

Scott gulped and looked at the board.

"Jackson's going to play tomorrow, but he's not going to be at his peak. And I prefer my boyfriend at...peak performance."

"Okay?"

"I date the captain of the winning lacrosse team. And if they start the season losing, I date the captain of the losing lacrosse team." Before anyone could think of speaking, Lydia added, "I don't date losers."

"Losing one game isn't going to kill anyone," Scott snapped. Neviah hovered over her problem to confirm her work. She paused. Her eyebrow rose. "In fact it might even save someone."

"Fine! Don't play. We'll probably win anyway. And we'll go out after like we were planning, and I'll introduce Allison to all the hot players on the team," Lydia suggested, hitting the right buttons once more. "And Scott McCall can stay home and, surf the internet for porn."

With that, Lydia walked away deeming her question done.

Neviah exhaled, placing her chalk down and meeting Scott's eyes. They brewed with conflicting emotions. They weren't children anymore. She had no reason to spare his feelings with sugar when important things to her were on the line. "If I were you, I'd decide soon if you care about Allison, your place on the team, and how the school will view you. Because if not, I won't hesitate to get my hands on Allison until I'm bored, Scotty. And I think you know what happens to people I'm bored with."

She left him with her words, exposing his weakness. Allison.

༻❁༺

"M&Ms or KitKat?" Mal asked, inspecting every snack in the vending machine.

"Water," Neviah replied dryly, her eyes barely holding up. The two were at the hospital with Jackson and Lydia. Jackson was getting his arm checked out before the game to ensure he wouldn't royally fuck it up even more by playing. And Lydia claimed she needed them there for support. Her head lulled the entire ride.

"Bor-ring," Mal sang, pressing the buttons for water. He handed it to her. "How much do you wanna bet the doctor is going to tell Jackson to just take some drug and he'll be good?"

"I'm not betting the obvious." The town loved the lacrosse team, so there was no doubt they'd do anything for the first game to be good. Even if that meant risking a seventeen-year-old's health for one game.

"Worth a try." He smirked, dipping into his bag of Doritos.

Neviah sipped on her water, finding her mind soothed by the daily sounds of a hospital. Wheels rolling against the floor. Monitors beeping. Distant conversation. A yawn slipped out.

Malikai's eyebrows touched. "Did you not get enough sleep?"

He said it as if it was shocking. She wasn't known for her healthy habits.

"I didn't sleep at all." The cold water helped, but not enough.

Then, it all stumbled in. Concern, care, all those emotions burst like confetti in his face. "You should talk to Melissa."

"Talk to me about what?" the woman asked, appearing from around the corner. Her sudden appearance startled Neviah. She spilled water on her chest. "Oh, sorry, sweetheart. Come on, let's go get you cleaned up, I have to talk to you anyway."

Malikai nodded his head at Neviah, telling her to talk to Melissa about her lack of sleep with his eyes. For all he knew, it was just one night without sleep. That's all he and everyone else needed to know.

The two women walked into the empty bathroom. Neviah grabbed a few pieces of paper towels and dapped at the wet spots. Her features contorted in her attempt to focus. She barely noticed Melissa McCall watching her. She wore a motherly smile, pride gleaming.

"I'm glad at least one of you kids learned not to scrub. Scott still does it whenever he spills anything," Melissa grimaced.

Neviah chuckled. "Yeah, well, someone had to clean the messes so none of the parents saw."

The mother tilted her head knowingly at her comment. They all had their roles in their mischievous youth. Neviah just so happened to be skilled in leaving no trace. "So, how have you been?"

"Asking as a nurse or Melissa?" Neviah finished cleaning herself, stuffing the paper towels in the trash.

"Both," Melissa answered in a motherly tone. She was the only one who didn't die or leave. But she wasn't Neviah's to claim. She had enough parenting to worry about with Scott. Neviah could only wonder about the possibility of what her life would have been if she had Melissa as a mother. She could have been kinder, less selfish, and more like Scott.

A comforting tone, just not enough for Neviah to tell the full truth. "I'm good. Didn't get any sleep last night, but I blame it on anxiety for my swim meet and the game."

"Anything else?" she inquired as if she knew something.

Neviah's shoulders dropped, biting down on her teeth. "Did my dad talk to you?"

"Possibly," she answered quickly. Meaning yes, he did. If he couldn't get the answer one way, he always found another.

"Look, we don't need to talk about it," Melissa added, sensing Neviah's annoyance, "and that's not why I want to talk to you."

"Then why?"

Melissa pulled out a folded paper from her front scrub pocket. She unfolded it and handed it to Neviah. "You still haven't applied."

The summer internship program for nursing. Something Neviah had wanted to start since she learned about last summer. Then she turned sixteen and the world became unstable. No matter how much she pretended to be unbothered, the aftershocks knocked her over.

"I will," she muttered, folding it back up and tucking it into her pocket. "I just need to think if this is really what I want."

Melissa scoffed. She spoke once she saw Neviah's expression. "You've wanted to be in medicine since you were a toddler, always asking for Barbies dressed in lab coats and scrubs."

"And I still do. It's just..." she trailed off, not able to find the words to match her thoughts. Helping people seemed contradictory to how she treated others. She didn't like it. It grew into a bitter resentment inside her, yet she continued. It was all she knew.

The woman stepped forward, grabbing Neviah's shoulders to turn her towards the mirror. Her head was a tad shorter than Neviah's, but the girl felt smaller than her. "It's scary, I get it. But you're Neviah Degrace. You can quite literally do anything you want, sweetheart, and this is what you've wanted."

Melissa gave her a gentle smile before leaving her alone. Neviah only stared at her reflection. Neviah Degrace. That's who she was. The girl who excelled in everything she attempted. The girl everyone wanted to be or be with. Effortlessly talented, beautiful, confident-

"Scared," a disembodied voice added, echoing against the walls.

Neviah spun around. The A/C rustled, blowing air into the room. There was no one else there. All the stall doors laid open. No one had entered the bathroom. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Guilty, undeserving, selfish, a bitch," the voice continued, staying in one place. Right next to Neviah. "Arrogant, a whore, stupid, should I go on?"

Neviah turned back to the mirror, curling her fingers over the sink. "Go away."

A blurred face appeared next to her, shorter and ivory skin. Dark brown hair that rested above her chest. Her birthday sash charred to a crisp. "It should've been you."

She couldn't face the dead. She forced her eyes to peer into the porcelain sink. Neviah turned on the faucet, splashing water on her face. Maybe Mal was right about talking to Melissa about it. She thought she was good enough to where her hallucinations wouldn't bother her. She stopped taking her pills and everything appeared fine. She wanted to believe that she could go back to normal.

But it wasn't true.

Neviah inhaled before looking at herself. It was just her. Scared and weak but still her. Not who she used to be, but who she was now.

Luckily, her make-up held on. Thank God for waterproof make-up. Neviah collected her emotions into a bag, tucked them away, and walked out of the bathroom. Stiles stood in the doorway with his hand up as if he was about to knock.

"Are you okay?" he asked without hesitation.

"What do you want?" Neviah asked, ignoring his question. She waved her hand for him to let her by. He did.

Stiles cleared his throat, following her. "You were in there for a while, and I was just checking to see if you were okay."

Neviah stopped. She turned and tilted her head. "Were you watching me, Mieczysław?"

"I-uh. Maybe?" he said, unsure if that was the right answer.

"Why?" She questioned, not wasting a second. She looked him in the eyes.

He hesitated. His eyes blinked away from her then returned. Just for a moment, but he hesitated. "You seemed off all week, I mean yesterday you didn't even care that Scott dislocated Jackson's shoulder—which is kind of worrying and disturbing." Neviah narrowed her eyes. "It's like you're here but...not really."

Neviah's lips parted slightly. She didn't expect anyone to notice. And if they did, who cared? It was just something to brush under the rug. It made sense he had. Always in search of an issue needing to be solved.

She fixed her reaction and acted in the only way she knew how in foreign experiences. Defensively.

"Aw, Mieczysław, you worried about me? How cute?" Neviah teased, scrunching her nose. "Keep it up and I'll start to think you are gaining feelings for me."

Stiles rolled his eyes, brushing off her words. "Come on, Neviah, is something wrong?"

"No, god, I'm okay. Can't a girl have an off day? Besides, even if something was wrong, why would you want to know?" she inquired, crossing her arms. Any inquiries pressing further than the beginning of their deal were cut off seven years ago with the death of his mother and their friendship. His choice, not hers but she kept with it while he hadn't.

"I-just forget about it," he muttered, walking to the seats.

Lydia sat on one side of the cramped waiting room wall; she tapped her ear to signal that she was on the phone. Most likely listening to her mother's complaints about her father. Malikai was nowhere to be found. Then, Jackson came out from one of the rooms. Lydia bid whoever she was talking to goodbye and went to him.

Neviah internally groans, walking towards Stiles on the other side of the wall. She waved her hand for Stiles to scoot down a chair.

"Oh, you're sitting here now," he let out as he did what he was non-verbally told to do.

She huffed, moving a twist behind her shoulder. "Yeah, well, Lydia and Jackson seem to be into doing a public quickie everywhere they go today, and I rather not see that." She grabbed a magazine, crossing one leg over the other. "Besides, Mal is off with Scott, I assume. So, we can wait together."

Stiles shifted in his chair, turning to her with a whisper. "Did Mal tell you?"

She hummed, "What hasn't Mal told me?"

Neviah looked at him, inspecting his reaction. His eyebrows collided as the gears in his head churned. He teetered between believing her and not. Whatever she knew or didn't know held enough weight that he had to consider his next words.

Before he could speak again, Harley entered with a gust of wind following her. The pages of the magazines fluttered. Her eyes locked onto Neviah as Stiles stared at her with wide eyes. Whatever Neviah knew or didn't know had to do with that reaction.

"We need to talk," she stated without hesitation. It was like her middle name. She never cared what others thought, she just did whatever she wanted. An anomaly Neviah once appreciated. She stuck out, even if she tried to conceal herself. Neviah never understood why she tried. It made her who she was.

Stiles stood up, readying himself to separate a catfight. "Harley, what are you doin-"

"I don't want to talk to you," Neviah responded, returning to the magazine. Ways to Cope with a Diagnosis.

Harley shoved Stiles to the side. Not enough to harm him, but enough to move him. "I don't care what you want. We need to talk."

Scott and Malikai came from a hallway. Pathology section. Neither should have been there. Their expressions conflicted with the other—Malikai grew annoyed, while Scott was fearful—but both fit them. However, their expressions fell at the sight of Harley staring intensely at Neviah. Something bigger was occurring without Neviah's knowledge, and she did not appreciate being out of the loop.

"Neviah, my mom needs me home," Mal said, nodding his head to the door.

She smiled, putting the magazine down and finally looking at the group in front of her. An array of emotions was displayed in front of her. Each one mixed with other conflicting thoughts and feelings. It made it hard for the girl to read them all. The general consensus? They were keeping something from her.

"Looks like you lucked out, Pixie. Maybe next time schedule an appointment?"

As Neviah walked out, Scott told Harley he was right.

"I'm not being a part of whatever plan you two have to get Derek arrested."

But Neviah didn't hear that.

༻❁༺

the chapter name is kintsugi and it is an Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with a mixture of powered silver, platinum, or gold. it's part of a broader philosophy of embracing the beauty of human flaws (copied from BBC article) , and in the way Neviah "uses" it is more of a repainting to cover up flaws. and inevitably, if she continues this way she will be fully made of gold and unrecognizable. but who knows ;)

anyway, I hope you guys I like this chapter. I've been unsure with killshot baby for a bit in terms of plotting but I think I just need to keep writing and get the hang of it.

also! next chapter will be in another character's pov, so pay attention for any information that neviah doesn't know.

Edited: 11/13/2024