We departed from the tattoo parlour and I admired my new ink through the plastic cover. It suited me so well.
"I actually really love this. I'm gonna be pissed if it heals." I grinned at the word on my forearm. Just as we piled into Stiles' Jeep, the tattoo began to sting.
"The adrenaline is wearing off. This shit stings," I complained. The stinging didn't last long because it quickly turned into searing pain.
"Shit shit shit!" I hissed. "Holy mother of Satan. This hurts like a- ow! -bitch!" I grit my teeth and ripped the plastic off of the tattoo. The surrounding skin was black as smoke appeared.
"Fuck!" I screamed, annoyed at the sight of the smoke. Smoke engulfed the wound and the pain disappeared completely, along with the tattoo.
"Did it heal?" Scott asked.
"Yes," I hissed in response. I looked down at my clear forearm. "Fuck."
"Maybe it's a sign." Stiles suggested.
"What?" I glared at him through the rearview mirror.
"Maybe it wasn't meant to be. You know, maybe it healed because you weren't supposed to have that tattoo," Stiles clarified.
"Fuck you. I'm going to get that word tattooed all over my fucking body just to piss you off," I threatened. "Scott, let's go see Derek."
"Derek? You're getting that done again?" Stiles asked.
"No, not yet anyways. A different one. My original plan. Maybe I should tattoo 'fuck' onto you while you sleep. I'll put you under anesthesia so you don't wake up." I would never even think of seriously tattooing someone in their sleep without permission, but he insulted my ink. Why not let him think I would?
"You know, the scary part of that is I could totally see you doing that to someone," Stiles shuddered. We called Derek and arranged a meeting. The location was one we hadn't been to since Scott got his tattoo for the second time-The Hale house.
The house had been burned down years ago, though Derek had still lived there. It still stood due to its grand structure, but now decay and abandonment was adding to the char.
I pushed through the front door, which still had the Alpha pack symbol on it. The fire was still plainly obvious, though now there was moss clinging to the walls. Grass broke through the floors and walls, and there were sections of the walls and floor missing. It was like it was when Scott got his tattoo, but now it was several times worse.
My foot went crashing through a floorboard and I groaned, hoisting my leg back out of the floor.
"Nice interior decorating. It looks even better than last time. I like the tetanus theme you have going here," I commented while eyeing the rusted metal in the once home.
"You might want to be nice to him considering he's about to burn you with a blowtorch," Stiles warned.
"Thanks, Stiles," Derek nodded. I sighed. I wished there had been someone other than Derek to do this, but he was the only one who knew how.
"You know, Derek, you should open up a werewolf tattoo parlour," I suggested. I sat in the chair and brought a piece of paper out of my back pocket.
"I already had the lines done," I informed him, taking off my coat. Sure enough, on my left shoulder was the lines for the new tattoo. I just didn't get it actually tattooed.
"So, you healed?" Derek asked me.
"Yep," I sighed.
"Maybe we should hold you down like we did Scott," he suggested. Scott and Stiles nodded, each holding me down. I heard the flick of the blowtorch behind me and I could feel the heat from a distance. Sucking in a deep breath, I told Derek to start. That's when the screaming pain ripped through my back and shoulder. The flesh underneath the blowtorch instantly charred, filling our noses with the smell of smoke.
I screamed, much like I had when I broke the trap. The flames darted towards my skin, forever staining my skin. My eyes seared with heat and fury. I knew they were glowing. I struggled under Scott and Stiles' hold, fighting each of them. I roared in the purest of rage, reaching towards them with my hands struggling to reach their throats.
"Sorry, Kayla," Scott murmured before his elbow came flying towards my face. His elbow brought darkness and the pain stopped as I fell unconscious.
"Kayla," a distant voice echoed. Then again, but this time louder and someone else's. "Kayla!" My eyes snapped open and I glared at the three people in front of me. A smirking Derek Hale, a gentle Scott McCall and a cautious Stiles Stilinski surrounded me, staring at me. I suddenly remembered why I was here. Pushing past the three of them while wincing at the moment of my shoulder, I moved towards the mirror that rested on the broken table. I held it behind me, staring at my shoulder. Through the mirror, Derek raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to critique his art.
"Sick," I quietly approved. Scott and Stiles still stood motionless, staring at me like I was a bomb waiting to go off. I shrugged at them and walked out of the crispy Hale house.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that? I'm not going to cry if that's what you're wondering," I glared at the two idiots who finally began to follow me out of the house.
"Just making sure you're okay," Scott held his hands up in surrender. "Also, your eyes were glowing again."
"Look, I don't care about my eyes anymore," I lied. "They're probably just idiot detectors. If an idiot pisses me off, they glow." The three of us headed home, leaving Derek standing in his old house.