┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter forty- one!
LIVING IS HARDER
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( the divine move, pt. i )

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

SHOCK. THAT'S WHAT THE paramedics had told Vera she was suffering from when they showed up at the scene. It explains why she can only hear a continuous, deafening ringing sound that's been filling her ears since Allison drew her last breath. They'd given her a blanket that she hadn't felt even as she pulled the orange fabric tightly around her with her good hand. The other one is broken, just as she thought.

When Chris Argent had arrived before the first responders, he'd already strung up a lie for Scott to tell the authorities. Vera had briefly snapped out of her daze upon his appearance. She hadn't been able to look at him. The man she'd come to think of as a father figure would now be reminded of his only daughter's death when he looked at Vera. A reminder that she had lived, but Allison had not.

When he'd knelt down in front of her, making them eye-level, Vera had choked on a sob and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Vera," he'd said, but she was on a roll, a snowball sliding down a mountainside, and couldn't be stopped.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry—"

"Isaac told me what happened. I don't blame you at all."

He'd pulled Vera into a hug, and though she hadn't deserved it whatsoever, she'd melted into the paternal embrace, sobbing into his chest until it felt like her lungs would burst. His arms had been safe and secure when he should've been pushing her away. After all, it was her fault that Allison — that Allison was —

Now, she's back in a far corner of her mind, her eyes vacant and that persistent ringing noise her only constant. She can no longer feel the blinding pain of her shattered hand. The agony that had once overpowered her brain doesn't register. She feels detached from her surroundings in the Sheriff's station, her surroundings fuzzy, her brain overcome with the sensation that she isn't quite here. Maybe she will wake up and this will all just be some horrible night terror.

A firm pinch on her forearm tells her she's not dreaming.

"Anything else?"

Deputy Parrish's voice is distorted to Vera's ears until she zones back into the present conversation. She, Lydia, Scott, and Isaac are crammed onto a sofa in Stilinski's office while they're interviewed about the tragedy. Stiles, Dom, and Kira had fled to the Yukimura household to plan their next move with the Nogitsune.

"Isaac?" Parrish asks. He's leaning against Stilinski's oak desk, his expression gentle even as he prods for answers. "Can you remember anything else?"

Isaac keeps his eyes locked on the floor, refusing to look at the deputy as he whispers what Argent had told them to repeat if they don't know what else to say. "I'm sorry. It... It just happened so fast."

His voice is barely a whisper, but Parrish catches it anyways. He nods in understanding and glances at the four shell-shocked teenagers with pity in his eyes.

A metallic shing! of a sword slicing through flesh. Allison's blood warm on her skin. Allison's widened eyes when the blade had gone through her instead of Vera, the hand she'd pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding. Allison's gurgled sounds as she'd choked on her own blood.

Parrish clicks his pen closed and stands.

"I'll organize a deputy to get you to the E.R. for your hand, Vera," he tells her. The sound of her name makes her jolt upright. Parrish gives her a small quirk of his lip, trying to lighten the mood by joking, "Maybe one day you won't be injured when we meet."

He's right— first her messed up nose when dealing with Barrow and now a broken hand. Her track record for staying in one piece isn't very great.

After he leaves, Vera faces forward again and notices that Isaac has gone rigid next to her. Though he's been just as spaced out as she has, something is off about him, and it's enough to make her gently nudge him with her elbow.

"You okay?" she asks. Her voice doesn't sound like it's coming from her. A part of her is still floating outside of her body, watching everything from above with no tether to ground her to the present.

Isaac fidgets. Vera knows he's never glad to be back in the station after he was locked in a holding cell here, then made a fugitive, and some of the remaining deputies from the time don't seem to like him. But this unease... this is different.

He manages an odd, humorless laugh that's more like a breath through his mouth. The sound is striking in the tense quiet of the office. "It's weird. That deputy looks just like Camden would've if..."

The rest of his sentence trails off into silence. Isaac rarely talks about the brother he'd lost so young, but now Camden's memory joins Allison's in the room, another ghost hovering over them. She hadn't really known him since he'd been several years older, so the details of his face are fuzzy, but she trusts Isaac's judgment. He wouldn't say that if Parrish hadn't shared a truly uncanny resemblance to his brother.

"Miss Pérez?" a female deputy asks, popping her head into the office. Vera raises her good hand in greeting. "I'll be taking you to the emergency room for your injuries."

The woman leaves and Vera stands, looking at her friends, appearing so despondent and empty that it breaks her heart.

Her fault. This is all her fault—

"See you guys later," she manages to croak, which elicits an almost imperceptible nod from Lydia and no response from Scott, who is trapped in his own head, his eyes unfocused.

"I'll come with you," Isaac offers. He stands as well, seemingly eager to leave the station, but the deputy leans her head back into the office.

"I'm afraid she has to go alone," she says. "The rest of you have to stay until Deputy Parrish finishes processing your statements. Shouldn't be too much longer."

Isaac's expression falls in disappointment, and Vera can't deny that she feels the same way. She doesn't want to be alone. But it's not like she can make Parrish work any faster, so she's forced to give Isaac a half-hearted wave and leave her friends behind.

— ✯✯✯ —

Having a cast on her dominant hand sucks. It makes her feel useless in a matter of hours— she wakes up the next morning and tries to grab her phone from her nightstand, only to realize that she can't, and instead has to awkwardly go through the motions of checking her notifications with her right hand.

She doesn't have any new messages. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? It's easy to spiral down the negative path, wondering if her friends are avoiding giving her updates because they blame her. Or maybe there just aren't any updates to give. That, in and of itself, is terrifying.

The cast is pale blue and covers her left forearm, wrapping her palm and last three fingers in fiberglass, leaving only her thumb and index finger free. Each time she attempts to wiggle those joints, searing agony runs like fire down her entire arm, so she tries to keep it as still as possible.

Vera rubs at her aching, weary eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. By the time she'd returned from the emergency room, taken painkillers, scrubbed the blood from her skin, and climbed into bed, it was well past two in the morning. Haunting images plagued her every time she closed her eyes. They still do — even now, she can see the Oni's sword slicing into Allison's flesh. She flinches and snaps her eyes open before the flashbacks can suck her in completely.

A soft knock sounds at her door. She turns to see Mai holding a mug in one hand, appearing exhausted and uncharacteristically disheveled. Dom is behind her, still dressed in his pajamas.

"¿Comó estás?" Mai asks her as she walks in, setting the steaming mug on Vera's nightstand before smoothing her daughter's sleep-tousled hair behind her ear.

Vera replies with a vague grunt. Not even a thousand words could express the turmoil raging inside of her. She feels overwhelming guilt for her best friend dying from a wound she should have endured instead. She's terrified that the others will be upset with her. Do Scott and Lydia resent her for remaining alive when Allison is not? She's angry that anyone had to die in the first place. And a million other things. But most of all, she is tired. Her joints ache from the fight yesterday, her head is full of pressure, and her soul is heavy from the weight of enduring so many supernatural conflicts.

Mai leans down to kiss the top of her head. "Don't let yourself drown in your grief. I'm here for you if you want to talk."

That surprises Vera. Talking isn't something they really... do when it comes to their feelings. When Pai was killed, her mother had put Vera in therapy, cleaned up all of his stuff where he had left it around the house — his shoes by the door, his jacket slung over the back of a dining chair, his sunglasses on the kitchen counter — and that was that. Her grieving was done in private. She tried to escape their house by going on business trips. The Hale fire only amplified her need for avoidance. Her best friend, Talia, was gone, just like that. And then Laura was murdered five years later.

Her whole life, Vera has hardly seen her mother break down. But the way she speaks about drowning in her grief suggests that she has done it before. How many times had Mai wept behind closed doors, or cried herself to sleep while Vera was in her room, unaware? How often did she pour her heart out to Talia, then hardened it once her only true confidant was taken away from her, too?

As difficult as their relationship has been, Vera feels an abrupt swell of love for Mai. They're the only blood family they have around here— or even in this country, for that matter. She surges forward and wraps her arms around her mother's hips, burying her face in Mai's midsection. Mai seems surprised by Vera's sudden display of affection before she returns it.

Vera pulls away after a moment, her eyes damp. "Thanks, Mai."

She nods. "I'll be downstairs if you need me. I've got to call your tía."

Again? Daily phone calls with her relatives back in the Dominican Republic are not common. Usually, they're spread a few months apart. Is Abuela still sick?

Vera feels the urge to rub her eyes again. She's been so consumed by the problem of her friend being possessed by an evil fox spirit that she has barely given thought to her family. She should be hopping on that phone call with Mai, asking if everything is all right. Instead, she flops down onto her back, breathing out a heavy sigh.

"Did you sleep?" Dom asks. He'd been so silent, a phenomenon that's unlike him, that she'd forgotten he was there.

"Does it look like I slept?" Vera shoots back. The venom in her tone makes her wince. "Sorry."

"S'okay. I didn't, either." He sits on the edge of her mattress. "I just keep wondering if I could have done... more."

As the morning light drifting through the window catches his face, Vera realizes that the skin under Dominic's eyes is red and raw like he's been crying often. The whites are bloodshot, crimson veins crisscrossing over each other. The contrasting color makes the green of his irises pop and draws more attention to his rough appearance.

"I don't really wanna talk about it," Vera says, her voice brittle.

"Thank God. Me neither."

Even though they're both miserable, Dominic still tries his best to lighten the situation. He reaches into the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms and produces several colored Sharpies. "I wanted to be the first person to sign your cast."

Vera uses her good hand to move her left arm closer to him. "Be my guest." As he uncaps a red marker, a thought suddenly strikes her. "Don't draw a penis."

"Aw."

She manages a small grin at her friend's reliable affability. Even though some things have changed forever, people have passed on, and the ground has fallen out from under their feet countless times, it's a relief to know that other things don't change. Dom has been a rock in her life for as long as she can remember.

With the Nogitsune still out there, Vera knows that their fight is far from over. It seems like she's going to keep leaning on her friends for a little while longer.

_______

a/n:

lol would you believe me if i said that i started writing this chapter IMMEDIATELY after finishing the last one? funny how motivation works. i thought the teen wolf movie would help with my inspiration, but instead, it tanked it. lol.

once again, i am SO SORRY for literally just disappearing. my goal was to have this book finished last year and obviously that Did Not Happen, so i am DETERMINED to finish it this summer. i am finally on the season finale!! that means only two-ish chapters left before the end.

thank you for waiting so patiently and i'm sorry that this chapter was short, but i wanted to get something up for you guys before the BIGGGG action that's going to happen next time.

also shoutout to the people who guessed that i'm going with the "parrish is camden" theory heheheheh. u were right!!!

again, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed this chapter!

— kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

¿Comó estás?: How are you?

( word count: 2.3k )