☾

Do you know what sucks about hospitals? The smell of medical equipment and the cleaner that's used on them, everything is sterilized and it leans a distinct stench. Try dealing with that with enhanced senses. Seriously, it's nearly impossible! Also, hospital food can be pretty disgusting, except for the pudding.

I've been here for about four days now and when I first woke up, the first person I saw was Stiles. He had filled me in on everything that had happened while I was out.

Beeping fills my ears, an electronic sound that's ringing in my head. Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking against the harsh lights above me, opening them fully when adjusting. The first things I notice is the very loud beeping from what I think is a heart monitor, the smell of multiple kinds of medicine and cleaning supplies, and a head lying on my hand.

I turn my head slowly, my muscles tense and nearly unyielding, and my eyes fall upon the familiar buzzed head of my boyfriend, his cheek on my hand. Everything floods through my mind - the dance, my confession, Lydia on the ground all bloody, and being bit by Peter.

The heart monitor starts beating a tad bit faster, catching Stiles' attention. His head snaps up, eyes wide and connecting with mine, and it seems as though time slows down. "Hey," he says, suddenly smiling, the feet of his chair scraping against the floor as he scoots closer to the head of my hospital bed, making me wince as it echoes painfully in my ears. "How you feeling?"

He covers the back of my hand with his, fingers curling against my palm as he uses his other hand to hold the top of my head, thumb stroking my hairline. "Okay," I croak out, voice rough from disuse of it, gulping thickly in hopes of soothing the roughness, if only slightly. "I guess. Considering the circumstances."

Wanting to see him better, I attempt to sit up, groaning as faint pain flares through my sore shoulder, and there's something around my face. A nasal cannula. "Wait, wait," Stiles orders, making me stop as he moves his hand from my head and to the control thingy on my bed and pressing down, the top half of my bed moving up until I'm sitting up, not all the way, but still. "There."

His goofy grin is infectious, one spreading upon mine as I squeeze the fingers still wrapped around my palm. "Is everyone safe? What about Lydia? Are you okay?" I question him frantically, worried.

He doesn't answer, instead shaking his head and chuckling, "You never cease to amaze me. Here you are, in a hospital bed and still worrying about everyone else." I give him a look, quirking an eyebrow, the same look my mother had a lot when trying to figure out if one of my siblings were lying. It was her 'interrogation room look' as she said. "Fine, fine. Everyone is okay, except for Kate and Peter. Lydia's fine, and I'm a hundred percent okay."

I narrow my eyes at him, knowing he wasn't telling me something, "There's something else. Tell me."

He sighs, dropping his head for a moment before looking back at me. "Lydia's bite isn't healing and we have no idea what's happening to her. She was having an allergic reaction to it, but the doctors said she'll be fine."

My eyebrows furrow, confused; what the hell is going on?

Then I remember that I was bitten.

"Is my wound...?" I trail off, slightly afraid of the answer.

His face falls for a second, licking his bottom lip nervously. "It's nearly gone," he answers. "There is a reason for that: you did have to get a blood transfusion with the amount you lost, and maybe that jump-started your healing. Whatever you are, Scott thinks it may or may not be like him. The other half, we have no idea what is it."

I'm silent for a while, soaking in that information. I may or may not be a werewolf-something hybrid. Well... It's a step in the right direction to figuring out what the hell I am.

"That's good, we're closer to finding out what I am," I say optimistically. "So, Peter's dead? And Allison's aunt?"

"Yeah, Jackson and I used self-igniting molotov cocktails to light him on fire, Derek slashed his throat so now he's the Alpha. And Peter slashed Kate's throat because she was the one to set the Hale house on fire all those years ago."

"Well, good riddance. But Derek's now the Alpha. Great."

I lean my head back and close my eyes, using my other hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. But I open my eyes at the feeling of lips on my palm, fingers slotting through the spaces between mine. Stiles smiles softly at me. "Hey, we're gonna get through this, together," he assures me in a whisper. "Because I meant what I said at the dance. I love you, and that means I'm gonna help you no matter what, no matter how difficult it'll be. I'm freaking crazy for you, Mary Anne, and I'm very sure I'm not going to stop loving you at any time in the future."

My breath hitches in my throat, feeling a powerful surge of love rushing through me, my hand moving involuntarily to cup his cheek, feeling him lean into my touch. "I love you, Stiles, so freaking much," I whisper, afraid if I speak any louder my voice is gonna crack from the lump of emotions lodged my throat.

His smiles so brightly it makes my heart flutter, watching as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. I start to lean forward slightly when he surges towards me, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. His hand wraps around one of the bars that's on either side of the bed while leaning over me, careful not to hurt me, using his other hand to cup my cheek. A spark lights within me, this kiss sealing our future as a couple. It... Changes something.

And for once, this change is good.

Now, it's Monday and I'm ready to get the hell out of here. I mean, I haven't seen the wound yet but I'm pretty sure it's smaller than my palm which is tiny.

A quiet knock on my door catches my attention, my eyes falling onto Nessa in her blue scrubs. "Hey, Mare," she greets, leaving the door ajar as she walks in, clipboard in hand and a bag on her other which she places on my bed, along with her clipboard. She moves to my hand, removing the IV which is the only piece of equipment left for me, moving my hand quickly before she could see the tiny puncture hole healing. "So, I brought some clothes for home since you're being discharged tonight, and you can take a shower before then."

A happy sigh leaves my lips, clapping my hands softly. "Hallelujah," I declare dramatically as I flip back the blankets and slip my legs over the edge. I really need a shower, feeling unclean which is ironic since a hospital is always clean. And besides, I hate it when my hair gets greasy, it feels weird.

Nessa laughs softly before moving to kiss the top of my head. "Be careful, the wound shouldn't prevent you from showering but, still, it's better to be safe than sorry. And it's good since the water will clean whatever we couldn't get out, if there is anything left."

"Safety is my middle name," I quip, smiling as I stand. Something outside the door catches my attention from the corner of my eye, moving closer in curiosity and a little laugh leaves my lips. My boyfriend's lean and tall body is stretched out across three chairs, passed out with a balloon tied around his wrist. "He's been here all night?" I ask quietly.

"He's been here all weekend," Nessa corrects, opening the door more and walking out, spinning around to face me. "You got a good guy here, don't let him go."

As she leaves, I whisper to myself, "I don't plan to anytime soon."

Stiles puckers his lips, like he's kissing someone in his dream. Holy Gods, please don't be the kind of dream I'm thinking about, in public. A nurse walks up to empty the trashcan below his head, and the look on her face is priceless when Stiles says something in his sleep, "You're dirty." The noise from the trashcan wake him up, bleary-eyed as he swats the balloon away from his face, standing and catching sight of me in the doorway. A smile instantly lights up his face as he shuffles towards me. "Hey, what're you doing?" He asks through a yawn.

I shrug one shoulder, looking up at him and crossing my arms over my chest. "I was about to take a shower when I saw you sleeping," I pause with a mischievous grin. "You said some, uh, pretty interesting stuff."

A deep blush tints his face as he tries to avoid my eyes, using the hand without the balloon attached to scratch the back of his neck nervously. "Uh, what did I say?" He asks, embarrassed.

"How 'bout this?" I tease, raising up on my toes, since I'm a lot shorter when I'm barefoot, and placing a hand on the door frame to steady myself, I press a soft kiss against the underside of his jaw. "I'm taking a shower because I'm dirty." I emphasize the last two words, implying that it was what he said.

I can feel his neck heat up against my lips, a little groan leaving his lips. "Go take your shower, before I might do something that's a little inappropriate to do here."

Intrigued, I pull him into my room and shut the door, my hands finding his shoulders. "And what is it that you might do if I don't stop?" I murmur against his neck, feeling a little courageous.

His blush darkens even more. "Throw you down on that bed and kiss you senseless," he mumbles, almost shyly, but the sly grin on his lips says differently.

I lean my forehead in the crook of his neck as his hands settle on my waist, contemplating my options. As delicious as Stiles' option sounds, I really need a shower. "Gods, next time when we're alone, I expect you to go through with it," I whisper, pulling away from his neck and pecking his lips lightly, backing away so I don't involuntarily run my hands down his arms. I don't know why, but I have a thing for his fingers, his veiny hands and arms.

He nods, his blush lighter now, eyes trained on my face. "Deal," he says, starting to walk back before spinning around when he almost tripped over his own two feet. Suppressing a giggle, my eyes follow him out the door when it's closed. I sigh in frustration... Sexual frustration.

This damn boy is gonna kill me one of these days, I swear.

I turn and head towards the bathroom, turning the light on and shutting the door behind me. It's generic, a simple shower with a plastic curtain and a little sink with a mirror. I stand in front of the mirror, sliding down the short sleeve of my gown to expose fthe gauze covering my shoulder. I need to know if I'm actually turning into a hybrid, since Scott told me that when he got the bite, it healed rather quickly, but faster than mine is healing, apparently.

Not knowing is worse than knowing, and it's been eating away at me since I woke up a few days ago.

Taking a deep breath I reach up and peel away the gauze from the corner slowly, exposing my pale skin until I see the wound. It's small, almost as small as my palm and that's saying something. Maybe after a few more hours, it'll be completely healed.

I shake my head, reaching behind to undo the ties of the gown, the cold air hitting my exposed skin as the flimsy material drops and pools around my feet, and I bend down to remove the leggings Nessa brought this morning for me to wear. The doctors allowed it, since I'm close to being discharged. Moving to the shower, I pull back the curtain and turn the knob, waiting for the water to become lukewarm before stepping in. The water hits my opened wound, making me hiss in pain but for some reason, the pain only lasts for a few seconds. I shake it off, instead moving beneath the stream of water, dousing myself while closing my eyes.

Running my hands through my now wet hair, I gently work out the tangles using my tiny fingers and only going mid-way since my hair ends at my waist. My fingers gently brush the open wound still healing in the crook of my shoulder and neck, face scrunching up as I can feel phantom feelings of fangs piercing and tearing at my flesh, crimson eyes and the screaming of my name from Stiles, it all flashes through my mind. I lick my wet lips, clenching my jaw and willing my body to relax, the tension hurting my already sore muscles.

A crash from outside causes me to jolt, and I pull back the curtain to look around the bathroom before pulling it back. I run my hands over the top of my chest, over my clavicles, opening my eyes and looking down.

Dark water fills the tub, like I had been covered in dirt and it got into the water. Dread and disgust forms in my gut, and I back away a bit from the stream of water to kneel down, holding back the urge to gag. I reach into the murky liquid, searching for the drain until I feel something tangle around my fingers, pulling out a clump of dark hair.

I start coughing and gagging in repulse, flicking it away to the lip of the tub and reach under the water again, pulling out more and more hair. But then, a burnt arm jumps from the water, grabbing my forearm. I jerk back and stand, a shrill scream leaving my lips the same time a similar one comes from a room next to mine. But right now, I don't think about it.

I turn and slip on the bottom the tub, falling backward and the curtain rips from the rod, covering my body as I fall. My body hits the side of the tub harshly before I land on my ass on the floor, gasping and scrambling backward until my back is pressed against a corner, ignoring the pain from the impact of my body onto the side of the tub.

My eyes snap to the door, seeing two figures burst in but it's blurry. "Mary Anne?" One of the figures asks quietly, carefully approaching me. I look up at them, clutching the plastic curtain to my chest with a trembling hand. Slowly, they kneel a little less than a foot away from me as the other keeps its distance. I see a hand reaching for my cheek out of the corner of my eye, the sudden movement making me flinch back and hit my head against the wall, thumping audibly.

"No, no, please don't," I plead, not realizing who it is as tears blur my vision. I can't remember the last time I was scared enough to freak out like this. My chest is heaving as I struggle for air, tears starting to stream down my cheeks. "Please, please don't hurt me," I whimper, flinching away as two large hands cups both my cheeks, but the familiar roughness of the fingertips and the warmth of the palms makes me stop struggling.

"Mary Anne, it's me," Stiles tries to soothe me. "It's just Stiles."

He uses his thumbs to rub away the tears from my cheekbones, his fingers tangled in my wet and messy hair at the sides of my head, vision becoming clearer and I find myself looking into the wide, fearful whiskey eyes of my boyfriend. A strangled cry leaves my lips and I lunge towards his chest, not letting go of the curtain, shifting as close to him as possible while he just wraps his arms around me, whispering "shh" into my hair, cupping the back of my head, strangled sobs continuing to leave my lips.

"You're all right, you're okay," Stiles tries assures me, not sounding so sure of himself. I want to disagree with him, but I can't. It's like my vocal chords are paralyzed, so I say it in my head.

I'm far from okay.

"Hey, hand me that towel," Stiles gestures to the little stool in the corner next to the shower where two generic white towels were on, my stunned sister snapping out of her stupor and nodding mutely, doing as he asked and handing him the cotton towel while keeping her distance, not wanting to freak me out even more. "Baby girl." His voice cuts through my foggy mind, making my eyes snap to his instantly. "We need to stand up, and you're... Um, naked, so..."

I nod my head once and he slowly rises to his feet, hands slipping under my arms to help lift me up but I cling the frosty shower curtain to my bare body, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood but I can feel the skin stitching back together almost instantly. "Is it okay to...?" Stiles trails off, holding the towel in one hand and the other gently curling around my shaking wrist. He maintains eye contact but I move mine over his shoulder to look at my sister and mouth, "Please go."

It's bad enough I'm about to be naked in front of my boyfriend for the first time, I don't need my sister to see me in the nude as well.

She nods and clears her throat awkwardly, "I'm gonna wait outside." My eyes follow her as she quickly scurries out of the bathroom, leaving us alone together.

"Yes," I croak out, voice breaking while speaking just one word so far as I flick my eyes back up to his. "Just look at my eyes. Please."

He nods understandingly, doing as I asked by just looking into my eyes as I slowly and hesitantly drop the ripped shower curtain from my body, the cold air surrounding me even more now that I'm no longer covered. I'd never imagined the first time I'd be naked in front of someone, or even Stiles, would be because I had a hallucination and freaked the fuck out over it. But thankfully, as I asked, he keeps looking down into my eyes and carefully wraps the towel around my waist with my help, and as soon as it covers my small chest, he drops his hands, not wanting to overstep any boundaries he thinks I have.

"Thank you," I murmur, tucking the corner between my breasts to keep it in place and move my hair to cover my wound. "I didn't know... I didn't know what was happening, exactly, and I-I reacted badly." My voice is shaking and I'm wrapping my arms around myself instinctively. I don't have to continue, thankfully, as he pulls me into his body once more, making sure not to make the towel fall.

"Shh, you don't have to explain," he assures me, lips against the side of my head. "I understand. I only care that your safe."

That's the thing, am I really safe?

☾

Turns out that other scream I heard was Lydia's, and she, unlike me, fled through the window of her bathroom. Naked. During the winter.

I wouldn't let any of the doctors check me after my episode, saying I'm fine physically. They summed it up to be PTSD, which is utter bullshit. I know it has to do something with my bite and whatever I am and that it's affecting me. And it's affecting Lydia in a similar way.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Stiles asks, his back to me to give me a little privacy as I dressed in the clothes Nessa brought from home. A gray v-neck, a blue flannel shirt, clean black leggings, gray socks and brown boots, with a navy blue jacket to stay warm.

"Yes," I stress, gently turning him with my hand on his bicep. "Now, let's go find my best friend."

He nods reluctantly and takes my hand, moving out of my room as his father, Lydia's father, and a deputy follows Ms. McCall and we follow them silently. I don't really listen to their words, too absorbed in the fact that Lydia could be in danger. I only break from my reverie when I hear Mr. Stilinski give a rather generic description of her.

"All right, let's get an APB out on a sixteen-year-old redhead. Any other descriptors?"

Without thinking, I step forward, pulling Stiles with me as I automatically answer for them, "Five foot three, green eyes, fair-skinned, and her hair is actually strawberry blonde."

Mr. Stilinski looks down at me. "Is that right?"

I nod, pursing my lips. He shifts his eyes towards his son and takes him by the back of his neck. "Uh, come here." Since our hands are connected, I'm pulled with him as his father questions him, "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"Um... Providing moral support?" Stiles tries.

"Uh-huh," Mr. Stilinski says. "How 'bout you provide your ass back home, where you should be. And take your girlfriend home."

"Okay, I can do that, too," Stiles agrees.

"Yeah," Sheriff breathes out as he let's go of Stiles and my eyes land on a fallen vending machine where to guys were working on. So that was the crash I heard earlier.

I turn my head to see Stiles with a weird look on his face as he tugs me along to keep up with his fast pace. "You did that, didn't you?" I ask him, flatly.

"Maybe," Stiles answers vaguely.

I shake my head at him while chuckling, walking out of the hospital. As we reach the hospital's parking lot I notice two things: Scott sitting in the passenger seat and Stiles pulling out a balled up hospital gown with a bloody patch from his jacket. When did he get that?

Stiles lets go of my hand and I climb through over the passenger's seat to fall into the back, popping my head slightly between them after Stiles got in and shuts the door. He hands the gown over to Scott, the werewolf asking, "This is the one she was just wearing?"

We both nod, Scott noticing my fallen expression and tries to assure me. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again."

Somehow I believe him. I know that I used to be really annoyed by him, but after talking to him when both he and Stiles visited me during my four-day stay, we got to get to know each other a little better and we're finally friends. And I know that he won't let anything happen to Lydia if he can help it.

"All right, just shove the thing in your face and let's find her," Stiles says, starting the jeep. "Wow!" When the headlights turned on, it revealed one Allison Argent standing there. She moves over to Scott's side instantly.

"What are you doing here?" He whispers urgently. "Someone's gonna see us."

I remember Scott telling me that he and Allison aren't allowed to see each other anymore, resulting in secret meetings. They're like a modern, supernatural version of Romeo and Juliet. How poetic.

"I don't care," Allison says firmly. "She is my best friend, and we need to find her before they do."

"I can find her before the cops can," Scott points out.

"How about before my father does," Allison retorts.

"He knows?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah," Allison answers. "I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUV's."

"Search party," Scott says.

"It's more like a hunting party," Allison corrects.

Scott says, "Get in," before opening the door for her and she climbs over him into the back with me, our eyes connecting as Stiles pulls out of the parking spot and drives out the parking lot.

"You okay?" She whispers, biting her lip. She couldn't really come visit me because of her parents, so I've missed her these past few days.

"Yeah," I say, shaking my head lightly. "That doesn't matter right now, what matters is finding Lydia."

She looks uncertain before nodding, our heads turning back to the front as Stiles asks her a question, "All right, but if she's turning would they actually kill her?"

"I don't know," Allison answers honestly. "They won't tell me anything. Okay, all they say is, 'We'll talk after Kate's funeral, when the others get here'."

"What others?" I ask at the same time as Stiles.

"I don't know, they won't tell me that, either," Allison says, dejected and a hint of annoyance underlying her voice.

"Okay, your family's got some serious communication issues to work on," Stiles states, making me quirk an eyebrow. I understand that completely since my sister might have stolen my memories from before I was seven of everyone other than our parents, her, my brother and Lydia. Whenever I ask her about something to do with our parents or relatives, she shuts it down and changes the subject.

"Scott, are we going the right way?" He asks Scott, who is sticking his head out the window and sniffing the air like a dog. If it wasn't for the situation, I would've laughed my ass off at the sight.

"Take the next right!" Scott yells.

Stiles does as told, my body jerking a bit into the side with the force and considering I weigh barely over a hundred.

Where the hell are you, Lydia?

☾

The scent leads us to the preserve, more specifically, the old Hale House. I've never been here, but it seems familiar. Like I have been here before, I just forgot about it. Probably one of the memories that was stolen from me.

I walk next Stiles, the other couple behind us as the ruined house.

"She came here?" Stiles asks, stopping to look at Scott while I continue to slowly walk ahead, like my body didn't want to get close to it. "You sure?"

"Yeah, this is where the scent leads," Scott confirms.

Stiles sighs and starts to catch up with me before I stop when he does, hearing him ask, "All right, but has Lydia ever been here?"

"Not with me," Allison answers.

I don't look back at them, my eyes running over the house almost involuntarily. It must've been a beautiful house before the fire, large enough to hold a big family. To imagine people being burned alive in there, by my friend's aunt, makes me shiver from something... I can't exactly describe it, but what I can describe it as is that it feels like pressure that forms in my chest.

"Mary Anne?" Stiles asks, holding my shoulder, breaking me from my reverie.

I quickly turn my head to see his concerned eyes, brows furrowed and lips pursed. "I couldn't have taken her here with me since I've never been here," I answer his silent question.

He nods after a moment, still concerned but he lets go of my shoulder, dropping the issue of my absentmindedness. He starts to slowly head for the house as I move towards the other couple to walk next to Allison, hearing her suggest a theory why the scent lead us here.

"Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek."

"You mean... Looking for an Alpha," Scott clarifies.

"Wolves need a pack, right?" Allison asks.

"Not all of them," Scott sighs. That's right, he's an Omega now that Peter is dead, and so am I. A lone wolf. And if Lydia's being drawn to an Alpha, then why am I still here? I'm not feeling any pull to anyone, other than the usual with Stiles.

"But would she have been drawn to an Alpha?" Allison questions. "Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?"

"Yeah, we're-we're stronger in packs," he says.

Allison nods, "Like strength in numbers."

"No, like-like, literally stronger, faster, better in every way," Scott corrects.

"That the same for an Alpha?" Allison asks.

Scott nods, while I think and listen simultaneously. Why would Lydia even come here? I mean, it is where Derek killed Peter, so maybe that's why?

"That'll make Derek stronger too," Scott agrees, pulling me from my thoughts. Why I am I getting distracted repeatedly tonight?

"Ooh, hey, look at this," Stiles says from a foot or two away from us, crouched down. "You see this?" Allison and I walk over to him, crouching down and I see what he's referring to; a wire. "I think it's a tripwire."

"Maybe," I consider as he pulls it, and nothing happens.

"Stiles..." Scott trails off from behind us.

"Yeah, buddy," Stiles replies, turning his head and his eyes widen, my own as well when I turned my head to see that it did indeed do something. "Oh."

Scott is hanging upside down, a wire wrapped around one of his ankles. I smother a giggle as he tells Stiles some advice, "Next time you see a tripwire... Don't trip it."

"Yeah, noted," Stiles says as we stand up, my head turning to see Allison smiling. We start to head over to him to help, when he holds out his hands to stop us.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," he repeats. "Someone's coming. Hide." Then I hear it, footsteps. Multiple footsteps. "Go!" Scott insists as we just look around.

Stiles reaches for my arm as we turn and hurry down a little slope to hide behind a tree, with Stiles behind me and Allison by my side. I watch as Chris Argent with two other guys behind him approach Scott, crouching down to be level with his face. However, when I attempt to listen to what they say, my vision goes blurry around the edges as pain darts through my head, having to clench my jaw shut tightly so I don't freak out. The only sounds I can hear is ringing and my low voice, the other sounds drowned out. But I can feel two hands on my waist, my back pressed against a chest.

"Zashtitete go, kakto toĭ bi vi zashtitil," I whisper, unable to stop repeating the words.

Suddenly, my vision comes back into focus as the pain disappears, the ringing dying down. I blink rapidly, turning my neck to see Allison staring at me with wide eyes. "What?" I murmur, turning my head as Stiles shifts behind me, a weird look on his face.

"You were whispering something over and over in a different language," he whispers back.

The subject is dropped, thankfully, as the three men leave and Stiles takes my hand as the three us to rush over to Scott who is still hanging upside down.

"You okay?" Allison asks, worried.

"It's just another life-threatening conversation with your dad," Scott replies lightheartedly.

"Stiles, help me with this," Allison says, running off with him to somewhere as I stay in front of Scott, curious. He flicks out his claws, reaching up and cutting the wire with his claws easily and falls, flipping and landing on his feet.

I smile a little at him, chuckling softly as I turn my body around to see Allison and Stiles near the tree where the rigging to the trap is, stunned. "Thanks," Scott says. "But I think I got it."

"Yeah," Stiles agrees while Allison huffs out a laugh, the two sharing an amused smile.

Scott turns and heads for the house, stopping to turn his head towards us to ask with a smile, "Comin'?"

I shake my head a little as we walk behind him and towards the house, dread weighing down heavily on my shoulders as the words resonate in my head, not in Bulgarian, but in English.

Protect him, as he would protect you.

☾

Hello, season 2!

FYI, the translation may not be accurate, since Google translate isn't always correct. I tried as best as I can so if any of you know Bulgarian, can you tell me if I was correct? I'd totally appreciate it because I'm going to use it a lot since Mary Anne has Bulgarian in her and she's going to be speaking the language more often during the course of the story.

Vote and comment your thoughts, it gives me the motivation to keep on writing.

Void_Stiles_is_Life xx