I CAN'T STOP WRITING SAD THINGS AND I HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN THE EPISODE YET.
Disclaimer: I don't own shit, babe.
It doesn't feel anything like knives, she lies. It doesn't hurt at all.
Her heartbeat is so slow he doesn't pick up on the lie. She lies in a pool of her own blood, and it is red, crimson with life, and death, and pain, and she tells him a lie, to save him from her pain.
It doesn't feel like knives.
And she lies to herself along with him, because she doesn't want to admit that being speared with a demon's sword is exactly that.
Who would have thought? Being stabbed feels just like being stabbed.
She can feel the life draining from her, trying to sink into the ground and replenish it with her energy. It is a curious sensation, but does nothing to dull the pain.
The pain is thousands of blades, carving through her, tearing through her again and again and again while she struggles to breathe, lungs filling up scarlet and trickling from her lips. There is no escaping it; it roars along her body, consuming her greedily, burning up her soul as she gasps.
It is nothing she has ever felt, and nothing she will again.
It is fire, and charred corpses, and agony, and she doesn't admit to herself that she wants to live, that she doesn't have the energy to cry, or ask them to help her. She knows she is dying, and she doesn't want it, wants to live, and have babies, and get married, and save Stiles, and live.
But she can't. She doesn't have anything left. It is trickling from her as she lies twitching on the ground.
All of her remaining energy, such as it is, goes to choking on blood, trying to forget the copper tang of her own blood rolling around her tongue and staining her teeth as it fills her mouth, and ignoring the spurt of the tear through her body as it kills her.
If she could ask, she would.
Just as she thinks to form the words, her mind sluggish and chilled in her head, she stops doing anything at all.
And if she could think, if any part of her had remained, she would have asked them.
Save me.