Wow.
Here we are guys, it's the last chapter of this story.
There are so many of you I need to thank. Firstly, those of you who have already read this story in its original version. You guys have been so incredible and supportive. Thank you for believing me as a writer, thank you for believing in this rewrite, I really hope it's been even more of a joy to read than the original.
To my fellow writers who create the most amazing refreshing original characters, you guys were a big inspiration for me getting back to my feet. I was in a shitty place, physically and mentally. And this story was like a part of my soul and it felt like it was ripped away from me. Thank you for helping with sparking my creativity once more; it feels fucking good to be back.
Thank you to those of you who have ever spent time on my docs, helping me out or just there to make sure i'm actually writing and not fucking around. You guys always give me the push I need to assert myself as an author, and help find my voice.
Thank you to my new readers and reviewers. You guys honestly put a smile on my face every time you leave a review, and give me so much motivation to keep going and not give up on this story. You guys play such an integral part in this story, with every review I want to make you guys proud, make you guys smile, and more importantly make you guys weep (either from sadness or frustration) It helps knowing people actually care about this story, or care about my characters.
I'll stop with the sap fest now. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Please leave me love and reviews, I need to know you guys are willing to join my side as we go into battle with the next story! Because The Gloaming has barely skimmed the surface of whats to come!
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Relief came to Stiles in the form of his face meeting the asphalt, but at least he was finally free.
His fingers scratched at the wet ground in attempt to try and get up. Stiles was lying in front of his driveway after Gerard's thug carelessly dumped him out of the van like yesterday's garbage. He had sworn that he had seen both Erica and Boyd back there. The two Betas had been tied up with electric currents keeping them debilitated. Gerard methods of torture were truly sinister and inhumane.
Stinging pain radiated across Stiles' face, his right eye nearly swollen shut, attempting to even blink made it worse. Gerard's lackey didn't bother to take off his godfather-esque rings when he decided to pummel his fist into Stiles' face countless times. The front door seemed so far away, but he had to get inside where it was safe and warm.
Stiles gathered the strength to barely get up off the floor, stumbling around with his weak knees. Every step was reigniting his pain, now cruelly reminded how brittle and fragile the human body actually is. With the palm of his hand he opened the front door, letting the warmth and familiar comforting scent of his home engulf him. He needed to find his father, let him know that he was okay.
Except his father wasn't home. He was probably patrolling all of Beacon Hills, scouring every corner of this damned town looking for him.
With uneven footsteps, Stiles made his way up the stairs, every particle in his body aching. When he opened the door, he was stunned to see Nikita sitting on his bed, her hands crossed in her lap; waiting for him. She stood up quickly upon seeing his bruised and bloodied face, her eyes and mouth wide with horror. It looked like she was ready to cry, empathizing for Stiles.
"H-hi.' Was all he said. He could have kicked himself for being such an idiot, but he honestly was surprised to see her. She should have been home, safe, not here worrying for him.
"Hi." Her voice small like a mouse, as if her voice itself could cause him distress. Nikita had yet to move from her spot, still stunned by what she saw. "Your dad wanted me here, in case you returned home."
Stiles' elated heart was so happy to see her that he smiled, too wide a smile, cracking the cut on his lip even deeper so that it began to bleed once more. And that's when the tears began to build behind her doe eyes upon the sight of his pain; one would think it was her with the cuts upon her face.
Stiles' eyes went wide with panic, he had frightened her without meaning to! "No! Please don't cry! I'm fine!"
He pulled her shaking body in for a hug and held her tight as she tried to gather herself, her face pressed into his chest. Stiles rested his chin on the top of her head, his hands rubbing comforting circles into Nikita's back. With his eyes closed he inhaled the sweet scent of her white jasmine perfume. His fingers ran through her dark silken hair, he wanted to pull her in tighter if it weren't for his aching body. It had been so long since he touched her, he forgot how much he craved just being near her. This felt right, her here in his arms, where he could feel her body heat, where he could hear her soft breathing. Her breathing alone was the lullaby that melted all the heavy worries off his weary shoulders. Nikita pulled away and looked at him like he were the fragile one.
"You're hurt, you're not fine." Her shaky voice coming out in a whisper.
He couldn't stand seeing her like this, upset and worried. "Nah, It just looks worse than it really is." Stiles tapped the side of his swollen cheek to prove his point. It still stung like a motherfucker.
But he kept himself calm in front of Nikita, not wanting to frighten her anymore than she already was. It worked, she actually let out a laugh but quickly covered her smiling lips with her hand, ashamed to be laughing in such a tense moment. He didn't mind, he liked the way her childlike laugh sounded.
"Good job, idiot." She said between her laugh.
Once again Stiles couldn't help but to smile himself, this time not too wide. When they were holding eye contact for those few seconds, Stiles was taken back to the last faded moments he remembered being truly happy; when he was with her at the dance. How their friendship slid back into place so easily, it was like there was never any gaping wide hole between them. Nikita's smile began to fade when she examined his face once more.
Her soft hand grazed the side of his bruised face, Stiles relished her touch, but damn it still hurt. He closed his eyes to memorize the feel of her skin against his, her tenderness, a simple feeling which was missing from this rough new life. Nikita's finger traced the line of his jaw, then softly wiped the blood off of his busted lip with the pad of her thumb. She looked at a bead of blood that collected on her finger tip with hard concentration and swallowed thickly. Her attention solely on that now, like he weren't in the room. He watched her, watched her rubbing her fingers together to allow Stiles' blood to smear across her fingers. Almost like she were hyperfixated with the substance, not being one used to seeing others bleed.
"Stiles... what happened?" She finally looked to him.
There it was, the question he really didn't want to answer. This was the part where he was supposed to tell her everything, literally everything that he had kept from her, that everyone had kept from her. However, Stiles was beyond that now, he was just imagining her in that basement, tied up and beaten down. It could have easily been Nikita in his place, her only saving grace was remaining ignorant of the supernatural world.
He had promised himself he would talk to Nikita about all that was kept from her. And now he was going back on his words. He truly believed now was not the time.
"It's complicated." He answered, and it was just that. Complicated. That's what the truth would do. Complicate things. Like it had done in his life, like it had done with his friendships and relationships, even with his relationship with his own father.
Stiles made his way to the computer chair and slumped his achy bones into the seat.
"It doesn't have to be." Nikita whispered while wringing her fingers, contemplating if she should slip her hand in his. "Maybe I could help, Stiles let me help."
"Nik." He whispered, wishing she would just drop the subject, her prying was making everything even more difficult and adding onto the unbearable stress that he was dealing with. He didn't want this for her, he didn't want her to be sad and paranoid, but he also didn't want her in danger, laying awake at night afraid for her life and the lives of those around her. The constant weight on his heart was unbearable at times, he didn't want that for her.
Nikita bit her bottom lip and looked to him with worry, sitting back on the bed across from him.
"Is this a money thing? Do you guys owe money or something?"
"Niki." He said her name again, this time with a little more impatience as she rambled on. She was scratching at his walls and as much as he wanted to let her in, dear god he wanted to let her in so bad, he couldn't.
"If this has anything to do with you and Scott owing Derek money or something, I can help." She waved her arms frantically around her, deep into her fast paced non-sense, pulling out all these narratives that had nothing to do with anything. "My dad can help! You know this!"
"Niki!" Stiles shouted, causing her to jump.
"It's complicated is not an answer, Stiles!" Nikita shouted right back!
"It is!" Stiles getting up from his seat to take a step towards her, both of their voices elevated and both of their anger and frustration coming to a boiling point that threatened to burn them both if they weren't careful.
She looked absolutely horrified at the sight of his bruised and marred skin, or perhaps tt his sudden out of character anger, the two of them coming head to head.
"You're selfless to the point of not caring if you get hurt!" Stiles pointing to the angry bruises and cuts along his face. "Look at this! Look at me! This is NOTHING compared to the pain and agony that comes with the secrets I've been keeping from you! If I tell you, you'll probably end up dead in the gutter!"
Nikita was now completely struck in stark confusion. Yet, as the milliseconds passed she was starting to just grasp the dire situation he and Scott were in. The danger was real, and she was only feeling a fraction of it just by standing on the outside of the supernatural ring.
Stiles took another step towards Nikita and collapsed to his knees before her, grabbing both of her hands. An act of dire desperation. She needed to understand. "I DIED the night of Winter Formal when you went missing, Nikita! I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I was a walking hollow idiot for those five days and nights! I died inside! I can't lose you again!"
It was like the floodgates had opened and all his pent up emotions and anger came flooding out. Anger and passion he directed towards her even though none of it was her fault.
"Too many nights where I just couldn't sleep. You were out there!" Stiles pointing out his window.
"Alone and scared and hurting. I should have been there with you. I never should have let you go the night of Formal." Stiles could feel a lump forming in his throat as he confessed his deepest regret. How he had been such a coward back then. Hot tears began to stream down his face, Stiles instinctively using his right shoulder to wipe off a tear.
"I should have protected you then. Nik. I failed you. This is me protecting you now!"
Nikita's eyes were on the verge of tears, but this time she would not let them fall, she could not let them fall. She swallowed thickly and took the backlash of Stiles' pent up turbulent emotions. They didn't hurt her, not as much as the secrets and lies did. How did this turn into such a mess? She wondered. Nikita had come to confess her feelings to Stiles, put herself on the line and hope for the best...Well that went up in flames real fast.
Nikita pulled her hand away from Stiles. "Your definition of protecting me is completely wrong. I don't need your protection."
She got up to her feet, prompting Stiles to get up as well. A sullen silence fell between them, neither sure of where the conversation should go now. This felt like the penultimate moment in the movie where Stiles would feel heroic, the girl of his dreams would kiss him and thank him with gratitude. And then they would get together. He could have both things, a secret life and Nikita.
"You're right, it is complicated. Way too complicated for me" Nikita clearing her throat in order to steady her voice. " And clearly none of my business. I should get going."
"Nik." He said hoping the nickname would stop her from leaving. Gently he grabbed her arm before she could get to the door.
"Everything I've done was to protect you, please believe me." His voice cracking over the heavy lump building in his throat.
"You should probably call your dad, he's worried sick." She said in a shaky voice, speaking as though she would never see him again. Nikita stood on the tip of her toes in order to reach Stiles' left cheek, the unscathed cheek. And planted a kiss there. "Goodbye, Stiles."
Stiles let go of her arm, his own falling limply, this time she turned around to get one last look at him before leaving.
"Idiot!" Stiles scolded himself, kicking the trash bin over. A flurry of angry papers of research flew into the air. He slumped onto his bed and ran his fingers over the bristles of his buzzed hair. His phone went off as soon as he laid down, it was Scott. He picked up the phone hoping his friend had some encouraging words or good news, Stiles knew the chances of anything good ever happening were slim to none.
" Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Scott's voice frantic on the other end.
Stiles let out a sigh before collapsing on his bed "Yeah, I'm alright"
"That's a lie." Scott said without hesitation. Stiles held the phone out and looked at it in confusion before putting it back to his ear.
"How the hell?"
"I can hear the irregularities in your voice." The Beta stated nonchalantly.
"Gerard did hurt you." Scott stated with such cold venom that Stiles could feel goose bumps prickling at his skin. He had never heard Scott sound so angry. "And I'm guessing you just talked to Nikita."
Stiles' eyes widened "Is that part of your werewolf senses too?" He asked with astonishment.
Scott let out a sigh "I can sense your sadness, and she's the only person who can ruin you. Plus she literally texted me a minute ago."
His brows pressed together, Nikita and Scott were in communication? " She has your number?"
"Uhh yeah, seeing how she'll eventually be my step sister. Plus I told her to text me if you came home. Anyways, did you tell her?"
" No, I didn't think it was right. It's just so risky. I can't Scott...I couldn't do it."
Scott didn't respond...falling silent with contemplation.
"Do you think I made the wrong decision?"
"You're my best friend." Scott said, reassuring his friend. "I stand by you no matter what."
Scott's silent way of saying it was a terrible decision, Stiles went silent wondering if he had done the right thing. Only to reassure himself time and time again.
"Look, I think Derek may have figured out how to help Jackson. Meet me at my place in fifteen minutes."
- Scott's POV-
Saving Jackson with the power of love?
This had to be some kind of a joke.
Derek had sworn he knew how to help pull Jackson out of the Kanima's curse, out of Gerard's control. Scott didn't ask where this idea came from, how Derek Hale of all people suddenly cared about saving Jackson Whittemore. The idea alone sounded so far-fetched, reminding Jackson of what he desired the most. For cold blooded creatures felt no love, but even Jackson himself could conjure such feelings and emotions. Or at least Scott hoped so, because for this plan to work, Jackson had to feel something.
There were no options left, nothing else to fall back on. He really hoped Derek was right, this was their last resort.
Scott had to really sit and think in order to formulate a plan. Jackson's life depended on Scott now. What did the jock love besides himself, popularity, and material possessions? This would be like finding a needle in an endless haystack.
For a second Scott contemplated on using Jackson's porsche to reignite the spark of love in Jackson's cold blooded heart….but then he remembered….
Scott walked down the school halls in the dead of night by himself to find Jackson's locker. The Beta simply crushed the lock within his grip, opening the locker. There it was, a silken royal blue bomber jacket. Scott's thumb ran along the golden thread embroidery of roses, it was nice. He remembered the last time he had seen Jonesy in this jacket. It was the same day he found out Jackson had intense feelings for Jonesy, Scott also finding out that it was Jackson who bought the jacket for Jonesy. Jonesy had grown fed up with Jackson, done with his ruthless and horrid demeanor, giving Jackson the jacket back.
It still smelled of the wrestler. Sharp spice like deodorant spray.
"Come through for us, Jonesy. I hope this is enough to bring Jackson back." Scott whispered while bunching the material in his hands.
- Nikita's POV-
The forged documents were folded in her purse, ready to go.
Everything was packed and ready for tomorrow morning. Even after the scare she had with the screaming girl, Nikita was still set on checking herself into Eichen House. She needed this, for whatever shred of sanity she had left. She had to take care of herself.
Surely no one else would.
Nikita had tried talking to Stiles, but it had blown up in her face. She was frustrated to the point of not caring to try with him anymore, she had turned deaf to his words. He claimed to be protecting her from the ominous big bad 'they'. Perhaps he was, his face was proof of that. Stiles could protect her all he wanted, she would be entering treatment by morning anyways.
She stuffed her bags into the trunk of her driveway, the neighborhood under a sleepy spell in the dead of night. Nothing seemed to turn the slumber of Beacon Hills.
Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck were on ends. A sixth sense of hers was telling her she was not alone. She turned around to see Jonesy standing under the dim street lamp. His shadow stood tall, falling upon her and cloaking her in darkness. His blue eyes glued to her open trunk, on the duffle bags.
"Going on a road trip?" He mused, having yet to peel away from where he stood.
"Los Angeles, for a few days." Was all she said, swallowing dryly and hoping he would just leave her be.
"So it's true?" He asked her, his dark brows met together to scrunch his smooth forehead, his spearmint blues looked at her with hurt. As if she were the one betraying him. "About Eichen House?"
He had somehow seen past her lie, how the hell did Jonesy know about Eichen House? No one knew about Eichen House.
Jonesy started to walk up to her now, but Nikita stood her ground, not showing an ounce of fear or discomfort.
"It's none of your business." She hissed. And it truly wasn't, she didn't think of him as a friend or a trusted ally anymore, in fact he posed a threat over her.
"Will you ever forgive me?" Jonesy inching even closer to her, crossing her personal boundaries.
"I wouldn't waste my breath." Nikita couldn't be any more clear of her dislike of him. "Now get the hell away from me. Or I swear I'll scream again."
"I am sorry though, Nikita." Jonesy standing toe to toe with her. His height toppling hers.
"Yeah, I got that."
"And I'm really sorry for what i'm about to do."
Nikita froze, unsure of what that had meant. She didn't even have a moment to bat a 's when he grabbed her arm, spun her around and slammed her face against the trunk of her car. She hit the cold wet asphalt, black spots dancing in her sight. Nikita could feel the warm gush of blood trickling out of her nose and pooling before her. It felt as though her face had been split in two. Her fingers curled and scratched at the pavement as she desperately tried to get up. She wanted to scream out for help, but all that came out was a raspy choke. Nikita pushed herself off the floor and began to crawl to her house, towards the open door. She could hear his footsteps slowly following her.
"We don't have time Nikita, we have to go." Jonesy said in a hushed whisper.
Nikita's strength gave out as she collapsed on the ground. Even though she didn't make it to the porch steps she stretched her hand out, wanting to be inside her safe warm home. Her head was aching, her vision tunneling.
Her eyes grew heavier by the second, Jonesy standing above her, in her blurred line of vision.
"I'm sorry, I never wanted to cause you pain." His words starting to drift in her head. "But I promise all of it will stop hurting soon."
She woke up with the veins around her temples screaming and throbbing like hell and her vision hazy. It took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness and the movement. Black wiry fingers of branches clasped and swayed together ; fingers of moonlight illuminated the dirt road in front of her. Nikita blinked slowly, unsure of what was happening or where she was for that matter. She was off the main road, where no one could find or follow her. Nikita squeezed her eyes shut as she rode another dull wave of pain. She had to go, she had to find her father, she had to find safety.
But she couldn't move. The seat belt across her chest felt restricting, holding her down like a restraint. It would make it hard for her to execute a swift escape. She looked to the window where her head rested earlier to see a mess of dark crimson smudged onto the glass. Nikita's fingers went straight to the gash on her forehead. She hissed at the stinging pain pulsating along with her own heart beat. It came back to her, the last thing she saw was the door to her home, after Jonesy smashed her face into the trunk. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she recalled the incident perfectly. He was beside her in the driver's seat, wordless. The silence was unsettling and creeping under her skin like a parasitic worm burrowing beneath. Nikita looked to Jonesy, pale moonlight and deep shadows danced across his face, his hardened gaze sat transfixed on the road, concentrating hard. His eyes didn't dare leave the road, even when she woke.
His skin was pulled over his knuckles, grip tightening over the steering wheel. She couldn't tell if Jonesy was furious or nervous.
"I'm sorry for this." Jonesy finally speaking to her.
"Why are you doing this?" Nikita croaked, head and heart full of hurt. She had never expected her coming back to Beacon Hills would end up like this. Los Angeles had been kinder, the people here were sipping some sort of berserk drug. No one here claimed to be who they truly were.
Jonesy pulled over, putting the car in park.
He gave out a long sorry sigh, still not looking at her. "I'm doing what I should have been done long ago. C'mon."
There wasn't a second's hesitation as Nikita's fist went flying straight into Jonesy's stone hard face, throwing him off guard. A crippling pain shot through her entire hand to her elbow, she couldn't help but to scream out when the sudden bolt of pain shocked her. But it didn't stop her from unbuckling her seat belt, opening the car door, and running out. Her feet hit the slick leaf littered ground. Nikita didn't even get a start when an iron hand clasped around her arm and dragged her back. How Jonesy recovered so fast was beyond her. Her blood curdling scream penetrated into the night and all too soon silenced as Jonesy put his hand over her mouth. They were at the edge of the preserves; no one would hear them here.
In fact Nikita understood exactly where they were.
There it stood before her, the quaint butter yellow Victorian home she had seen a few times before. Budding purple flowers grew on serpentine like vines that had attached themselves to the face of the home and refused to let go. In the day it was to be marveled at, a home that looked suited for Ina Garten herself. But at night, in the dark, the house looked so dreary and bleak. She knew this home.
Jonesy's home.
She struggled, she kicked, and she put up a fight. But he was stronger than what she had imagined.
"You're making this so much harder than it needs to be." Jonesy said in a taught voice.
That's when he twisted Nikita's arm behind her back, her eyes shot wide to the heavens above her as her knees buckled. Now he could maneuver her with ease, against her own will. He began to push her towards the home, she tried to dig her heels in the earth, creating deep grooves in the leaf covered ground, but with a sharp twist of her arm he was able to control her again. His other hand remained over Nikita's mouth, refusing to take it off until they were in the home.
Nikita's eyes widened, what was Jonesy up to? Was her once-friend planning her demise?
They walked into the darkened home, the dimmest of lights to guide them. No one seemed to be home, it was empty apart from the two of them.
"What are you doing Jonesy!? Please!" Nikita screamed, finding herself in a position where she was begging for her life, yet again.
"You don't have to do this." Nikita begged. Anger and fight had escaped her; instead it was replaced with fear and helplessness.
Her eyes widened when they walked through the home and reached the door to the basement. He looked to her, wearing a somber face, just before opening the door. This had to be a mistake, for only a second ago he was looking at her like she were a hurt animal, she swore she saw a sorry expression on his face. Now he wanted to shove her into a basement?
He didn't want to do this. Maybe he was forced to do this!
"Jonesy! Please!" Her voice shaking to no end.
He remained deaf to her pleas. Instead he lead her inside, stepping into the basement with her.
'Click' went the lock.
There was no way for her to escape, for he stood behind her on the steps, guarding the door. He was above her, at an advantage to overpower if she dared try to escape. A lump was building in her throat, her eyes began to tear up. Fear was like a hot twisting knife in the pit of her stomach. Nikita was paralyzed, her feet like two blocks of cement super glued to the wooden steps. She had underestimated him the whole time, just like she had with Matt. How foolish she had been to be deceived so easily, not once, not just twice.
Everyone she had known in Beacon Hills was a deceiver.
And now there was no escaping, not this time.
She turned to look at him one last time, hoping that her once friend was still there, still cared for her.. "Please, I just... I just want to go home. I won't tell anyone about this, I swear."
Jonesy couldn't even bare to look at her. Maybe he was ashamed, maybe he too was afraid, maybe he would crack upon looking her in the eyes for he was weak for her.
"Begging won't get you out of this." A cold familiar voice said.
Her breath caught in the back of her throat. It was as though the stiff air around them turned viscous, and she was finding it hard to take another breath. She could feel every inch of her flesh prickle with goosebumps as a bitter ice sensation trickled down her spine. Nikita slowly turned to see bright familiar eyes staring back at her. Just the sight of him and his hawkish sadistic smile churned the acid in her stomach.
Alex lingered at the bottom of the steps, half hidden in the shadows.
His smile died now.
Something more sinister took its place.
Nikita's fingers curled to fists, a last desperate attempt if they were to hurt her. She even remembered to place her thumb over her fist this time, just like her father had taught her. Even with that in mind, there was no winning, she was a frightened doe trapped between the two tall brothers. Jonesy himself was a brick wall blocking the exit.
Alex slowly walked up the wooden stairs, the planks groaning beneath his weight. His long fingers dancing up the banister in a playful childish way. This all seemed to be a game to him, he was either amused by her or completely vacant to her horrors.
Nikita backed away cautiously, trying to put space between her and the older Jones brother. She managed to bump into Jonesy who had come down a few steps, they were closing in on her doom. Jonesy's fingers came to grip Nikita's shoulders, forcing her to stay put, firmly keeping her there.
Alex moved resolutely forward, coming to stand directly in front of the quivering girl. Finally face-to-face with him, Nikita had no choice but to look up into his vibrant eyes. With the shadows falling upon him it looked like they were that of a sea in the dead of a stormy night. they carried an element of brutality and disaster like mother nature herself. Beautiful, terrifying, capable of so much more than one would expect. The angelic face that many fawned over - herself included for a brief time- was no more, he was satan in a leather jacket.
His gaze was so intimidating, he was peering right into her soul. But deep in there, hidden beneath the icy demeanor was something she didn't expect to see of him. A hint of sorrow, a hint of loss, even fear within himself. His hardened concentrated gaze starting to soften.
"You have no idea, do you?" He asked with his eyes narrowed on her. Studying her where she stood. She could smell the scent of him with how close he was, clean, soapy, and ruined by the lingering scent of cigarette smokes.
"Of course you know. Maybe not on the surface. But deep, deep, deep inside you've always known everything, Nikita. You just always found ways to doubt yourself because of how people would treat you, because the reality of it all was so difficult to swallow."
Nikita didn't answer, afraid to make a sound, she had no clue what he was on about. Alex sounded like a madman, most likely he was. She was afraid of him, afraid he might lash out violently, there was no predicting him now.
Alex shut his eyes, breathing deeply and then exhaling in a rush. "This is my fault. I'll admit to that. You were never my priority." His glance shot across her to land on Jonesy, who still remained silent.
"What is that supposed to mean?" She demanded harshly, her voice weaker than she would have liked but still laced with a mild venom. She was terrified but still far from defeated. She had a fighting spirit and Alex could see that. Nikita needed him to see it.
Alex took an exasperated breath like that of an impatient museum guide during a field trip of preschoolers, she was a mere intrusion to his life, a splinter lodged beneath his nail. Nikita jumped when his hand shot out. Her heart stuttered and stopped then, her whole body going stiff. He forced her fingers to lift and slipped something hard and warm onto her palm.
Nikita froze, breathing hard now and watched Alex take a step back from her. Her panic had turned to a blistering heat, it clawed up to her shoulders and constricted around her neck, dizzying her.
"You wanted to know the truth? Well here it is." Alex cocked his head to her hand, silently telling her to look.
Slowly, so slowly, Nikita lowered her eyes and uncurled her fingers to see what he had placed in her hand.
Horror shot through her with what she saw. Her gaze whipped back up to Alex, her eyes asking him if what she saw was real.
"Oh god." She groaned, feeling nauseous.
It was a shiny silver quarter.
That was it.
Alex. It was Alex leaving the quarters, leading her around, placing them on her eyes. It was all Alex's doing.
Her legs went liquid, unable to hold herself up. Nikita collapsed to the floor, taking a seat on the step. Disbelief and horror rose with the bile. The acidity coating her tongue. She wanted to throw up right here. The silver coin slipped between her sweaty trembling fingers and hit the stairs, rolling over the fading aged wood with a slight metallic clinking.
'Clink.' It hit the next step, still rolling.
"This can't be happening, this is NOT happening." She reassured herself and she gathered her knees to her chest, holding herself. All those times she had woken in the middle of the preserves...He had been the person planting the quarters on her.
"I can assure you, it is." Alex adding from where he stood.
'Clink."
Nikita could only stare into dead space, unable to break her dissociating transfixion while her body quaked with fear. Her eyes began to sting with briny tears building up in her eyes. Her mind was starting to go numb, trying to shut out the thousands of thoughts running rampant and clawing at her mind.
'Clink.' The quarter kept going.
Alex lowered himself to her level, with that subtle hint of amusement that so faintly pulled at his lips. "As stubborn as I am, I'll admit. This went too far. Secrets and lies can be so….exhausting. I'm sure you would agree."
Nikita's head lifted to look at Alex. It was then she noticed at this angle, from where she was below him, how the bare lamp hung above his head. It darkened his figure to an almost silhouette, she could only make out faint details of his face. It illuminated the back and the crown of his head to make it so that his sandy hair was glowing bright gold.
A halo sat atop Alex's head.
And he asked.
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"Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"