After a calm breakfast at a local diner the next day, Ky insisted on staying out and heading home later. After her grandparents drove off, she visited the old corner store that her dad would take her to sometimes while her mom shopped for groceries across the street.
While paying for a pack of gum, the bell above the door chimed and a wave of quiet discontent passed through Ky. She froze, recognizing the feeling from the last time. She looked up from her wallet. It was the same couple.
In the daylight, it was easy to see they were regular people. The man had a steady, sullen frown on his face and a wiry frame. The woman looked tired. She went to the back where the fridges were, presumably to get milk or eggs.
Ky finished paying and tried to get out of there as quickly as possible, but the man was standing at the lottery stand and blocking her way. She tried to say something but couldn't, and felt frozen in place instead. She saw red tendrils floating around his body, and frowned at the sight of it. This was new.
The man caught her looking and stopped in the middle of his scratch-card. "What do you think you're looking at, kid?"
"Nothing. Um, sorry. I just, uh- I need to get by."
"Wait. I know you from somewhere..."
"Please, just let me-"
The woman came back to the counter with a carton of eggs. "Carl, what are you doing? Let the poor girl through." It was easy to tell that the woman recognized her. Nerves rolled off her in dark blue wisps. Ky rubbed her eyes hard. The two were still surrounded by colours.
The cashier had bent down to fix something behind the counter when Carl started getting up in her face to the point where it was uncomfortable. She remembered what her grandmother had said, about envisioning a wall. And then the thought of a mirror came to mind.
She wished they felt as afraid as she did. Or as if they didn't want anything to do with her. Or oddly enough, that Carl felt the cuts and scrapes he'd given her that night.
Then a peculiar thing happened. The look in the man's eyes changed, and he took a step back. Afraid, now, just as much as Ky had wanted. And confused. The woman paled and stepped back, too. The colours surrounding them became less vibrant.
"What are you- you know what, nevermind. Cynthia, we're leaving." He sped out of there the way Ky had wanted to moments ago. Cynthia threw down a five dollar bill, took the eggs, and followed suit.
The cashier stood back up and took an earbud out. "What the hell was that…?"
It took a second for Ky to realize he was talking to her. "No idea." She moved towards the door, but stopped to watch the couple's car leave first. They sped out of there. She went outside and leaned against the brick wall by the store entrance.
"Hey- are you okay?"
Ky turned to the concerned voice. It belonged to a girl her age who had also just left. She had a bag of groceries with a magazine peeking out. No tendrils.
"Well, obviously you are and I should probably be asking about what spooked them, but. You know. They're gone, so they're probably fine too."
"Yea. Uh, yea, I'm fine. Thank you for asking." Ky glanced back out to the main road. The car was nowhere to be seen now.
The girl nodded contemplatively, her strawberry blonde waves bouncing gracefully. "Anyway, they were invading your personal space first, so I wouldn't feel too bad about whatever it was that made them leave like that." She smiled, with a knowing look in her eyes. Could she see the tendrils too? Could she tell that Ky had just… bent someone else's emotions?
"Anyways, have a nice day," the girl chirped.
"Thanks. You, too."
After the stranger had driven away, Ky took a deep breath. Her heart was racing. What had she just done? Okay, she knew the answer to that. Her fingers trembled as she took out a piece of gum and calmed back down. Yes, it had been terrifying.
But there was a newfound control and power now too, coursing through her veins.
On Thursday night, Ky's phone was ringing as she got out of the shower.
"Hello?"
"Hey, I'm sorry, I don't think I can make it tomorrow." Stiles's voice was raspy and quiet, even more than usual. "I caught a cold. Well, I thought it was a cold this morning and now the room's kinda spinning whenever I sit up so... it might be a bit stronger than that."
"Oh shit, that sounds bad."
"Nah, it's noth-" A pause, and then the muffled sounds of him retching into what was hopefully a container of some sort. Ky winced and held the phone further from her ear.
"Sorry," he said again, after. "You did not need to hear that."
"Yikes. Can you keep food down?"
"Up until now, I sincerely believed I could, so. This is... a new development."
"Are you hot? Like, fever-hot?"
"And cold and hot again," he said, sounding tired of it. Not an ounce of sarcasm; just genuineness. It must have been really bad.
"Did you take meds?"
"My dad and I usually never get sick, so the Tylenol's probably expired- wait, let me check. Oh- nevermind. Standing is not agreeing with me either. I don't know why I tried that."
"Jesus Chr- I can come over," she offered, concerned. "We always have stuff just in case, so... or is your dad coming home soon?" Maybe it was better that he take care of his son, even though Ky had a sinking feeling about the answer to that question. She was right.
"Probably not... but it's fine, you don't have to. I think I'll be okay, maybe just sleep it off-" he paused, the phone rustling with movement.
"... hello?"
"- sorry, I thought I was gonna throw up again. Um, on second thought, meds might be good if you have them."
She rolled her eyes and smiled drily. "Yea, I thought so too. Okay, I'll be there soon."
"Thanks."
"Just… close your eyes and rest until I get there, yea?"
Ky expected something snarky like "Sure thing, doc" or "I'll try" but he just said a quiet "okay." She stared at the phone before shaking herself out of the reverie, hanging up, and rushing to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. It was full of supplies and medications, but where was the- ah. Tylenol. Not expired, too. Hopefully the Stilinskis had a thermometer. She slipped the thin rectangular package into the pocket of her hoodie and slipped quietly out of the house; her grandparents had already called it a night.
She crossed the street and knocked twice on the wooden door, before looking back out at the street. It was around eleven at night. Quiet. The dark road peacefully illuminated under the soft glow of orange street lamps. Not a car drove by.
The door opened. Stiles stood in a grey t-shirt and boxers, looking worse for wear. "Hey. That was fast."
"I'm quick. Oh, here, you can–" Stiles had begun stumbling down, after trying inconspicuously to hold onto the door for support. Ky slipped underneath and let him rest his arm on her shoulders, and then kicked the door closed behind. He felt warm. He shook his head when she was turning to the living room and pointed upstairs instead.
Stiles's room was the first door on the left. She grabbed a pillow to prop him up a bit– that usually helped when she was sick– and helped him into bed, before putting a cool hand on his forehand, which was expectedly hot to the touch.
"Dude. You're burning up."
"Oh, so that's what it is." Sarcasm, but faint.
"Did you check your temperature yet?"
"No, couldn't find the… the thing."
"Damn." She took out the Tylenol from her pocket, and realized they were the drowsy nighttime kind.
"Well, you definitely feel hot enough."
"Thank you."
"Wha–? Oh, my god."
He chuckled weakly while she read the packaging. There weren't any obvious red flags.
"I'll be right back."
"Mm."
Ky spotted an empty cup at his desk amid the mess of books and papers and grabbed it. She went down to the kitchen to fill it with water and then came back to offer the medicine. After he'd had it, there wasn't much else to do.
"Well, I guess I should go. Your dad'll be home soon, right?"
"Dunno." Stiles had his eyes closed. Ky looked around the room, saw a bulletin board bent in half in the corner underneath an empty pizza box. Piles of clothes on the floor, along with different coloured strings. Green, yellow, red.
"Okay. I'll swing by tomorrow, then," she said, uncertain about what to do. When she turned to leave, she felt his hand graze her wrist.
"Wait. Stay," he murmured, half asleep now.
"Well, this is more cliche than I signed up for," Ky said softly, mostly to herself. "Um. Okay." She sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled the thin covers up to his shoulders.
"I'm sorry. I should just… I'm sorry," Stiles mumbled.
"No, no. You're alright. Everyone gets sick."
"But now you can't sleep."
"Probably wouldn't be able to, anyway. Now, go to bed," she said gently, grabbing a nearby shirt to dry his sweat. She watched as he fell asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing becoming deep and slow and steady, and moved quietly to the nearby chair, wincing as the floor creaked.
"Allison? Is that you?"
Stiles's voice was raspy, but it jolted Ky awake anyway. Apparently she'd fallen asleep on the chair. "Hm?" She yawned, then realized he was still sleeping. Sleep-talking.
"No, no, no," he muttered. "Stop– wait, I didn't want to– I didn't mean to, I didn't…"
His voice became clearer now, as if he was awake. It chilled her to the bone. "Get out. Get out. No, don't–" Then he laughed, not with light amusement but with tone she could only describe as sinister. And then he started crying.
Ky rushed over to wake him up. "Stiles– wake up. Wake up." She had to shake him awake. His eyes were wide and frantic before taking in the dimness and familiarity of the room.
"Ky... Oh. Just a dream."
"Just a dream," she assured. "Sounded like a nightmare."
At that moment they both realized she was still holding him tightly. She let go. "Sorry," she muttered awkwardly, face getting warm. Thank god it was still dark. He just shook his head.
"I have them a lot."
"That sucks. No wonder you have trouble sleeping."
At least he was sounding more coherent. She put a hand on his forehead. Surprisingly, it was already cooler.
"Oh hey, I think your fever's gone down. How do you feel?"
"Better." He still looked shaken, clutching the sheets tightly. Something overcame Ky and she took his hands in hers, unclenching his fingers gently.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked, avoiding eye contact under the guise of what she was doing. When she tried to let go, Stiles held on and gave her hands a soft squeeze. They stayed like that in silence for a bit, her heart pounding in her chest. Then he let go.
"She died because of me," Stiles mumbled finally, staring back up at the ceiling. "A drunk driver's still a driver... not that I was drunk. Or driving."
"What were you doing, then?" she asked softly.
"Things I didn't want to do, that I didn't remember until it was... Wait, did Isaac say anything? About that? About her?"
This took Ky by surprise.
"Scott said he thought he saw you and Isaac when he was visiting her, so I figured... Sorry, I dunno if I should've mentioned that earlier." They heard the sound of a car driving past outside. The lights made shadows dance along the walls, and then it was quiet again. "It's okay, you know. If he did, or if you asked, or whatever. I mean, if I were you then I'd wanna know more, too."
"... yea, he mentioned it. We visited her together after Scott left."
"... What'd he say?"
"How she died. That the people who did it were, uh, taken care of." Stiles scoffed. Odd. "That she was brave and caring… and for what it's worth, I think he was concerned about you." She actually knew he was, but didn't say it.
"What?"
"I dunno, he just seemed pleasantly surprised to learn you were leaving your house again." She looked around. "Guess that's not happening for a while. Oh, my god. You should rest," she said suddenly, remembering that he was still sick.
"He doesn't blame me?" He closed his eyes.
"I don't think anyone does. Not if you weren't the one driving."
"Mm. So many goddamn bandages," he murmured, just before falling back asleep.
In a while, Ky knew it was time to sneak out and get back home. She left the Tylenol on the dining room table in hopes that the sheriff would notice, but it turned out to be in vain since the lock turned just as she was leaving. The door opened.
Sheriff Stilinski looked just as tired as his son, but in a different way. In the way that a full night's sleep might fix. Of course, it didn't seem he had such easy access to that. He had his hand on his holster, but took it off upon seeing her standing there.
"Um. Hello, sir."
"Hi. You're... Kyla, right? Friend of Stiles?" They had never formally met.
"Mhm. Sorry, um. He let me in. He was running a fever a few hours ago–"
"What?"
"Yea, but I brought over some, uh. Just tylenol, but I think it's working. He's asleep now."
"Well, thank you for doing all that. I appreciate it. I should've been home hours ago." The sheriff's voice was tough but quiet. She didn't need to look any deeper to know he was remorseful, too.
"Of course. You didn't know." He hadn't called, she wanted to say. She didn't know why he had called her instead.
The sheriff sighed, then squinted at Ky. The house was dark so it must have been hard to see. "Stiles mentioned you're back for the summer, right?"
"Yea."
"That's good. This town's a lot of things, but cozy isn't one of them."
"... I dunno, I like it. I didn't think it'd still feel like home after leaving, but it does."
"Hm. Well, speaking of- it's late. You should get home. Do your folks know you're here?"
"Yea, but they're probably worried. It was nice to meet you, Sheriff- er, Mr. Stilinski."
"You, too. Take care, now. And thank you again," he added sincerely. "I'll be sure to take it from here."
"Of course." Ky wanted to ask about Allison's death and what had really happened, or Stiles's part in it, but decided against it. She wished him a good night and left.
After safely sneaking back in and noting the ease in doing so, Ky tried to sleep but couldn't. She was remembering all the dark feelings from Stiles's room, and kept seeing the Sheriff's tired eyes.
How did it get this bad? she wanted to ask. But in the dim light of that house, the answers were somehow clear enough.