thirty two; how to kill a pheanix

                                    

                                          
HOW TO KILL A PHEANIX


                          
​Carter's body felt heavy, almost like it had been weighed down by dumbbells. And when she tried to push herself upright, she was instantly sent back down on her back. In a panic, she snapped her eyes open, glancing around to see that there were restraints secured around her wrists and ankles along with a single restraint across her body – efficiently holding her down to a bed. No matter how hard she struggled to break free of the restraints, she was not going anywhere. Sighing, she lied back and stared at the ceiling but in that moment a sickening feeling ignited in the pit of her stomach; she suddenly began to panic as the revelation of being in Eichen House hit her in the chest like an axe. The invisible blade sliced through her tissue, carving through bone until it reached her heart – and that was when she knew that she was in Stiles' mind.
                          
​"Car, are you all right?" Scott's voice sounded from her left, his words sounded muffled and distant but when she turned her head on the pillow she saw that he was strapped down to a bed right beside her.
​
When their eyes finally met, they both shared looks of panic as neither of them seemed to understand just how they got into that position in the first place. She never thought that she was end up back in that horrific place ever again – even if it was through someone's subconscious. The two teenagers simultaneously were back to struggling to break free of the restraints that were holding them down. They refused to allow Carter to move, the girl squirming as she tried desperately to harness her werewolf strength, but to no avail, it was like she didn't have an ounce of supernatural strength in her body. And that was when she tried to strain her hearing to hone in on Scott's heartbeat, though, all she got in return was silence. Something was wrong with her. Something was different about her.
​ 
She let out a cry of frustration, body falling limp after several futile attempts to use her now nonexistent abilities. She glanced over toward Scott once again, watching as the True Alpha struggled as well to break free. The brunette tilted her head at him, taken aback slightly as she wondered why breaking out of the restraints had been so difficult for him – she knew that he still had his werewolf abilities, she could practically feel them radiating off him.
​
"Scott," Carter called out, the Alpha turning his head to look at her as his struggled ceased. "Do I actually need to remind you that you're a werewolf?" She asked, her voice echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back to them
                          
​"We're in Stiles' head," Scott pointed out, talking to her like she hadn't already figured that out.
                          
​Carter quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, "And you're a supernatural creature with supernatural strength – break free."
​
It was almost as though Carter's words had triggered something in the teen Alpha's mind, the brunette watching as he slowly nodded his head while thoroughly absorbing her words. Her eyes widened when his fists clenched at his sides, beginning to raise them up as he started to harness his strength; fighting against the leather to break free of their hold. He grunted as he began to strain himself, the veins on his arms and neck bulged out from beneath his skin – and just like that, the straps broke, finally releasing Scott from their grip.
​
His dark eyes widened, head snapping back toward Carter to see a knowing looking on her face. He shook off the ripped straps before leaning forward to unbuckle the ones wrapped around his ankles; he quickly shot off the bed and made his way over to Carter. He worked hastily to unclasp each and every buckle that had been restraining the girl to the bed, trying to ignore the intense smell of anxiety that was looming around her while she slowly began to regain control of her body. She sat upright, throwing her legs over the side of the bed while tenderly rubbing at the purplish raw marks around her wrists – it had been obvious to her then that she definitely did not have a single ounce of lycanthropy in her blood, not even the healing as the marks on her skin continued to morph into darker shades as the seconds passed.