Grief
Word Count: 562
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: Allison, Chris, Gerard
Summary: Brief character study of Allison; her reaction to her mother’s death.
It's a desperate feeling; a kind of anguished denial that gnaws at her belly as she rides the elevator to the second floor. The doors slip open with a faint ding, and she angrily wipes an errant tear from her eye-calm down, Allison, it might not be true. She looks up from where she’s been adamantly staring at the floor to meet her father’s eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just gives her a helpless look.
“No.” She tells herself firmly, her throat already clogging with tears. Her dad’s gaze is unwavering, his own eyes glittering with unshed tears. She shakes her head frantically.
“No, dad.” It comes out angry, at first. “No, dad.” Her voice breaks with despair and she moves forward, grief slamming in her chest. She lifts a shaking hand, to her mouth, to her hair, to her chest, before pointing at her dad.
“If this is some sick training exercise, you better tell me,” She hits him as he moves to embrace her, her gaze locked on the figure lying still and covered in a bed in the room behind him, “you better tell me.” A sob wracks through her body and her knees buckle. She struggles in her father’s hold, his arms tightening around her as her knees buckle.
She can literally feel her heart breaking, and it’s agony.
*~*~*
The covers on her bed are soft; the curtains on the window are drawn tightly, hiding the night. The lamp is on next to her. There’s a shirt on the floor, an open book on the desk, a painting hanging crooked on the wall.
She feels empty, like someone scooped out her insides and didn’t bother to refill her when they were done. Her cheeks are stiff with dried tears, her hands fidget with the sleeves of the plaid button-up she had pulled on when she had gotten home from the hospital. She continues to stare blankly ahead, trying to wrap her head around the fact that her mother was gone.
Gerard knocks on the door, entering a moment later holding a letter. She listens carefully as he waxes about vengeance and retribution, telling her to burn the letter once she’s read it.
Her eyes well up again as she takes in her mother’s words, detailing her death and the bite that caused it all. Fury curls in her lungs and weighs down her tongue, a few tears slipping silently from her sore eyes.
She watches numbly as the flames crackle, burning the letter in her hand as she drops it onto a ceramic plate to finish. She watches for another moment, her eyes moving around her desk as the desperate anger wells inside her. She reaches out, throws a few things into her trashcan, before the rage bursts and she begins shoving things off the tabletop.
She begins tearing things off the walls, her chest heavy with ire and sadness. She rips the clothes off her hangers; grappling desperately at the shirt she’s wearing, yanking it off her body after popping several buttons in her rush to remove it.
She turns to face her room, grief lacing through her veins as her heart beats a plea for violence. She heaves another breath, shoving her hands across her face roughly to wipe away the tears.
“Okay, Allison,” she says to the empty room, “let’s get to it.”