THIRTY-FIVE | STRIKE THREE

"You changed." I comment to Hale. Once I'd been thoroughly checked out by the Doc, we left the infirmary together. It's late. Or is it early? My internal clock seems broken and the sky's still dark so I'm not really sure. We're just passing through that glade near the house, Hale walking slowly at my side, not touching me, but there in case my aching legs decide to give out.

"I did." He accepts, not asking specifically what we're talking about. He must've known I'd ask after what I saw.

"And?" I prompt him, wrapping my arms around myself. The cold has come back, just like before, wrapping me in it's unforgiving embrace. The vast emptiness seems even worse now. My hands keep shaking, no matter how much I rub at them, they don't stop. Like I'm on a caffeine high or something. Minus the alertness.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Hale sighs wearily, dragging one of his hands over his face. He's still got those circles under his eyes. The glamor seems to have disappeared, too, his face is just as young as it was when I was little, eyes a memory-stirring evergreen. Too pale to be alive. A vampire.

"How about the truth?" I snarl at him, feeling angry and more scared than I've ever been in my life. "How could you lie to me about something so important?" I hiss, waving my hands at him as we come to a stop, facing each other. I take a deep, calming breath before asking bluntly. "Becoming a monst- *Revenant*. It's more complicated that you said, isn't it?" I catch myself before saying *monster*, but Hale still visibly cringes.

"It can be-"

"*Fuck*!" I scream at him in frustration, throwing up my hands again and whirling away as my anger manifests into a brief spike of strength. My fist goes through the center of the nearest tree, splinters of wood flying out. "Give me a straight answer!" I yell at my father, the coldness is biting at me, amping up the roiling emotion within. He stays stock-still, cat-like gaze watching me stoically, but his muscles are tensed - as if waiting for me to transform into the nightmare itself.

"There are three ways to become a Revenant." He finally says. "The for-sure way is to drink blood - like I told you. An excessive amount." His voice takes on his teacher-clipped tone. The no-bullshit-tone. "The second is to...die."

"You *said* we're hard to kill." I rasp accusitorially, clenching and unclenching my fists anxiously.

"It is-" Hale sighs, dragging his hand through his hair. "It's complicated," He shakes his head. "This is why I wanted you to come by the Coven-"

"Just *tell* me. Why is that so hard?" I hiss, wringing my hands at him. I know it's overly dramatic, but I don't care. After what I saw. Everything that's happened. Everything I know that *could* happen - I can't take anymore surprises. I'll go insane.

"If Craven had ripped off my head, I'd be dead. But we heal - regenerate." Hale's words get louder, more emotional as he speaks. "The more we do, the harder it is for our bodies to put the pieces back in the right way. Our souls can get lost in the process-"

"You came back." I don't mean for it to come out as cold as it does.

"I've...had a lot of practice." Hale resumes his stoic calmness, lifting his chin almost defiantly. I try not to picture the *practice* he may have had, but my stupid brain replays Craven snapping his neck over and over in my head until I think I'm going to be sick.

"And what's the last?" I choke out, sucking in a breath I know I'll need.

"Time." He says, taking a step back, like he's afraid he'll break any second. Or change. "The longer we live, the older we get..." He trails off, seeing my expression betraying me. He looks away from me, up at the moon high above. "If you don't keep your mind sharp as you age, you can lose it - which is sometimes worse than losing your soul." He sounds like he's talking to himself now.

Neither of us says a thing. The silence stretching unbearably between us.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" I breathe emptily, so very confused and overwhelmed at everything I've found out.

"No. You're not-" Hale whips his head around, looking at me - eyes wide and worried. Then they begin to glow bright - acidic like before. "*You cannot hurt yourself again, do you understand?*" His words are silken, cloyingly sweet and hypnotic. I can feel his influence in my head, coaxing my emotions and actions-

Anger surges through me, along with that icy cold that's been plaguing me lately. Filling me - but the red curtain doesn't come. It's just me and that bone-chilling cold when I drive him out of my head. My father staggers back, eyes wider now, filled with surprise.

"I'm *not* suicidal," I snarl at him, annoyed at his attempt to try to screw with my head again. "I thought we were through with that shit."

"Scarle-" He begins, a penitent look taking over his face.

"*Leave me alone!*" I yell at him, not sure if he's going to try to use his power on me again. He winces, like I hit him, but I haven't made a move. Without a word, he turns and disappears.

When he's gone, I scream at nothing. I scream and scream until my throat's raw. I wear myself out, there under the branches of the clearing near the house, I let it all out. No one comes to investigate. No one comes to check on me. Everything is still when I'm done. Not even the birds are left to keep me company as I spiral through the overflowing abyss of my mind.

I soak in the empty, welcoming the nothingness until I've accepted the truth.

I'm going to be a monster one day. Maybe not today. Or a year from now. Maybe not even in thirty years. But one day, when I'm so old that everyone I know is dead, my soul will leave my body, and all that'll be left will be a rampaging monster. Until then, I'll live every day with that knowledge, tip-toeing around humanity and those I love. Forever afraid something'll flip the switch like Hale.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as the light of the moon filters through the tree branches, bathing my pale skin in it's gentle light. My mind calms, the energy draining from me until I'm left with nothing but the memories of the fight - replaying in my head over and over again.

Hale isn't human. Not Wolven. Lucky for him, or he'd be dead right now. Any of the other Wolven would be. If it had been Yuri who tried to stop Craven, or Misha, or Blue, they'd have died. I'd never be able to forgive myself. And now, it's clearer than ever, everyone around me is a target. One way or another. Whether it's by the Reinier Pack's hand or my own, death's coming. And now I know, there's nothing I can do to keep it a bay.

*Strike three, Scarlett. You're out*.