CHAPTER FORTY-SIX:
WHAT I WANT

"PHASMOTOS OCULACS." ELAINE QUICKLY SAID, revealing herself before she quickly put up her hands, yelling out a boundary spell. She watched the bullets bounce off of the protection spell, however she was quick to fall to the ground, just as the smoke bombs were thrown in. She was struggling to breathe, blood coating her lips and nose. But she had to keep on fighting. She had to get to her mother. She forced herself up from the ground, stopping upon seeing one of Gerard's hunters in front of her. She held out her hand, her eyes glowing.

"Patere!" She quickly sent the man flying back, regretting it immediately when the one word made her so incredibly weak. She clenched her jaw but made her way down the halls until she managed to get to the room where her mom and Stiles' dad was being held. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Noah knocked out on the floor. Melissa looked at her daughter, tears falling from her eyes upon noticing the blood that covered her mouth and torso.

"I forgot, you're not like you're brother." Matt told her, making her glare at him. He smirked. "But you are different." That's when his attention turned towards Derek who was standing there, snarling. Whilst Derek kept both the Kanima, who had joined Matt, and Matt occupied, Elaine quickly ran over to her mother's cell.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, alright." Elaine carefully spoke, ignoring the dizziness from the blood loss.

"Honey, you need to lay down." Melissa spoke, trying to ignore what was happening behind her child.

"Mom, I'm fine." Elaine assured. Just before she could do anything, the Kanima had wrapped its tail, throwing her into the wall, making Melissa let out another scream. The Kanima had been quick to knock Derek out, and Elaine could barely move as it was. So when the Kanima had placed itself on the jail cell of her mother's cell, Scott had been quick to jump in, throwing the creature aside. That's when Derek quickly jumped back unto action whilst Melissa called out for Scott who slowly turned his head to look at her, fangs and claws being shown making the woman step back, shaking her head.

"No." She repeated the word over and over again, not believing what it was that she was seeing. Melissa had been so distracted by Scott, that she hadn't even noticed when another woman walked in, plucking Elaine up from the floor before quickly disappearing. Rebekah looked down at her child, carefully laying her on the table as she glanced towards Deaton.

"You got what I asked for." Rebekah spoke, Deaton nodded his head before handing the woman the ingredients needed in order to let Elaine heal. Deaton walked out of the room, leaving Rebekah to stand there, looking down at her child as she mixed the ingredients. "You're going to be as good as new, Elaine. Just hang in there."

━︎━︎━︎━︎━︎

When Elaine had woken up, it was the next morning. The girl softly groaned as she forced herself to sit up, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion when she realized where exactly it was that she was at. Her attention snapped towards the door when Rebekah came in. She offered her a gentle smile.

"You're up." Rebekah nodded, an apple and water in her hand as she handed it to the girl. Elaine reluctantly took it before taking a long gulp of water and a bite of the apple. She swallowed before looking at the woman in slight confusion.

"How did you know?" Elaine whispered.

"A gut feeling." The woman answered. "How are you feeling?"

"Like an idiot." Elaine breathed, making Rebekah frown.

"Sweetheart, you did everything that you could." Rebekah assured her.

"Yeah, but I could've done more." Elaine whispered, shaking her head. "I want to be prepared. To do something more when the time comes."

"What are you saying?"

"I want you to teach me." Elaine answered, nodding her head. Rebekah looked at her, slightly surprised. "You're the only one that can help me. I was thinking. . . School's ending soon. I can go with you to wherever it is that you're residing, and you can teach me."

"If that's what you really want." Rebekah told her, nodding slightly.

Elaine nodded. "It is. That's what I want."

"Alright. We'll talk more when you're better, alright? But right now, I have a feeling you're going to want to go home."

━︎━︎━︎━︎━︎

Days seemed to pass by. Melissa was utterly confused onto how exactly it was that her child no longer had a bullet in her torso when she hadn't stepped foot into the hospital. And immediately she assumed that Elaine was like Scott. So, for two weeks, the woman was to scared to talk or even look at her children. Scott hadn't talked to Allison or Stiles, and Elaine hadn't either. Except for today, as she was sitting outside of the guidance counselor's office, wanting to be there for Stiles. But also because she needed to clear her head.

"You know, when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. 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's exploding. But then, when you finally do let it in... that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's-it's actually kind of peaceful." Stiles started, messing with his lacrosse stick, not bothering to glance up at Ms. Morell.

"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?" The woman asked.

"I don't feel sorry for him."

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

Stiles scoffed. "Just because a couple of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim, doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one. And, by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her, though. I mean, he Photoshopped himself into these pictures―︎ stuff like them holding hands, and kissing. You know, like, he had built this whole fake relationship. So, yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy-train."

"One positive thing came out of this though, right?" Morell asked, talking about the fact that Stiles' father got his job back.

"Yeah. Yeah. But I still feel like there's something wrong between us. I don't know. It's just, like, tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott and even Elaine."

"Have you talked to them since that night?"

"Elaine, yes. Scott. . . no, not really. I mean, he's got his own problems to deal with, though. I don't think he's talked to Allison, either. . . But that might be more her choice, you know? But I guess it brought her and her dad closer."

"What about Elaine?"

"She says she's fine. I don't believe it."

"Why?"

"Out of all of us, she's gone through the most." Stiles answered. "She doesn't talk about it. I think she's scared to burden us with her problems."

"Jackson?"

"Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal." Stiles answered.

"And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow?" She questioned.

"Why would you ask me that?" He then glanced down to the knitting he was biting on his lacrosse stick before quickly removing it from his mouth. "Uh, no. I-I never actually play. But, hey, since one of my teammates is dead, and another one's missing, who knows, right?"

"You mean, Isaac―︎one of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?"

"How come you're not taking any notes on this?"

"I do my notes after the session."

"Your memory's that good?"

"How about we get back to you." She suggested. The boy didn't speak for a moment. "Stiles?"

"I'm fine." He answered, nodding. "Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen."

"It's called 'hypervigilance.' The persistent feeling of being under threat."

"But it's not just a feeling, though. It's-it's like it's a panic attack, you know? Like I can't even breathe."

"Like you're drowning?"

"Yeah."

"So, if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment. . . What if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?" She questioned.

"You do anyway. It's a reflex." He shrugged.

"But, if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?"

"Not much time."

"But more time to fight your way to the surface?"

"I guess." He mumbled.

"More time to be rescued?" Morell suggested.

"More time to be in agonizing pain." Stiles corrected. "I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?"

"If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?"

"But what if it just gets worse?" Stiles asked. "What if it's agony now, and then―︎and it's just hell later on?"

"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said, 'If you're going through hell, keep going.'"

When Stiles walked out, Elaine stood up, looking at him for a moment, silently asking him if he was alright. He simply nodded his head before watching as she glanced towards the door. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be out here the whole time." Stiles assured the girl.

"You don't have to stay." She shook her head.

"I want to." She looked at him for a moment before nodding her head and entering the room, closing the door behind her and glancing at Stiles one last time before she sat down. Ms. Morell looked up at the woman, closing her notes.

"How are you, Elaine?" Ms. Morell started off.

"Honestly?" Elaine questioned. "I'm fine. At least, I'd like to believe I am."

"Elaine, whatever we talk about, doesn't leave this room." Ms. Morell assured her. Elaine looked at her for a moment before she sighed, nodding her head.

"I feel out of breath." She answered. "Scared out of my mind constantly. Worried about my friends and family like something's going to happen if I'm not there to save them. To help them."

"You can't be everywhere at once."

"No, but I can try, right?" Elaine questioned. "I can try to be everywhere at once, and hope that I get there on time before something happens." She sighed. "My mother won't even look at me. Scott and I aren't even mad at one another, but there's this block there, an invisible wall almost that's keeping us from speaking about it. Allison. . . she and I have just been butting heads lately. We don't talk to one another. And I can't help but feel like I've done something wrong."

"And what about Stiles?" Morell questioned, slightly surprised at how close Elaine and Stiles' feelings were. They were both struggling in different ways, but some of the same ways. And maybe she could convince the girl to talk with Stiles, get the two to help one another out.

"What about him?" She shrugged. "He's Stiles. The overly hyperactive boy that I've liked since we were four. He acts like I don't know how he feels, how he's suffering and blaming himself."

"Just like you are?" She asked, cocking her head slightly. Elaine was caught off guard by the question before she pursed her lips, nodding her head.

"Yeah, just like me." The girl whispered.

"Well, maybe you can help each other out." She suggested. "Confide in one another."

"How do you confide in someone when you're keeping so many secrets from them?" Elaine questioned, frowning.

"Are the secrets worth keeping if it means it could ruin something that means even more to you than something you're scared of saying?" Elaine looked at the woman, surprised at how much impact her words had on her. She swallowed before finishing the session and walking out. Stiles stood up and Elaine grabbed his hand, immediately interlacing their fingers.

"You okay?"

Elaine offered him the smallest of smiles as she nodded her head. "I'm fine."