The Million Pieces of His Heart
Author: laraF laraflame
Title: The Million Pieces of His Heart
Rating: PG-13
Character/s: Peter Hale, members of the Hale family mentioned
Summary: “The constant burn of his cells as his body mended itself; the slowly piercing sensation of agony reminded him of fireworks crackling under his skin.”
Peter could only lie in his hospital room and relive the fire that destroyed his life. The pain brings memories and the memories inspire a deep-seated desire for revenge.
Warnings: mentions of canon character deaths (Hale-fire), ANGST, mental and physical anguish
Content Notes: canon-compliant, pre-1st Season
Submission Type: Ficlet
Word Count: 997
Prompt: #180 - Fireworks
Author's Notes: Pretty dark and bittersweet. Maybe Peter before the fire looks a bit OOC but I think he’s really not : )
His whole right side prickled and ached. Like thousands of fiery little bugs crawling, biting and poisoning every fibre of his being with acid. Endless screams echoed in his mind. He wanted to tear his skin apart; he would've done anything to get away from this purgatory. Flames were eating away his world, relentlessly and merrily dancing in their cruel victory.
*
When he arrived he couldn't believe his eyes. The unsettling and unfamiliar scents reached him and lured him out from the middle of the woods where he liked to trek. They clashed with Talia again and he needed some fresh air. He sprinted back like never in his life.
He tried to help. Nothing else mattered. His bitter relationship with Talia, their frequent fights over generally every little decision and mainly about what was good for the pack, for the kids especially seemed to disappear. Their last fight... He had been unusually angry. He had a break at university and he went home just to meet a closed off, unfriendly and cold Derek. It was so unlike him... He couldn't convince him to talk about it. He had a soft spot for the kid. It caused an uncomfortable ache in his soul to see him like that. So... empty. He shifted erratically while yelling in his sister's face regarding how she neglected Derek in favour of so full-of-herself Laura. That previous fury, his constant scorn toward Talia's methods seemed to fade into nothing. Adrenaline and fear pumped in his veins, his blood loudly banged in his ears. Thanks to the eye-watering heat his stupidly expensive designer clothes started to melt into his skin. He didn't even realise it. Dirty-grey, almost black smoke evaporated from their once beautiful home. He mocked Talia many times because of that too. How he spat in her face that they were all sitting ducks in a big, fancy country-style house playing good citizens... So unlike their nature. His sister just smiled patronizingly with pity in her eyes and that irritated him like nothing else in the world. The derision he met every time among his beloved family and the stinging pain of always being an outsider, of always remaining alone no matter how big a pack they had... Nothing mattered, only survival. Theirs. Him, the so-called cautious, selfish, manipulative jerk just wanted to get in the house and pick up as many pack-members as he was capable of to save them. His claws desperately scratched the mountain-ash barrier. Giving up never occurred to him. If something, he's been always persistent. Desperation fuelled his beta strength and that was the only passable explanation of how he could crawl his right side through inch by inch. Blood poured from his fingers and the stench of burning flesh assaulted his nose. He cried and whimpered, repeating the names of his loved ones like a mantra. To no avail. He was late. He couldn't hear their pleas and screams anymore.
The pressure from the mountain-ash grew unbearable. He fought tooth and nail against the fast approaching unconsciousness. His last thought was 'I just want to die with them.'
He didn't. He woke up to pain even worse than the fire in his memories. He didn't understand. Time and space lost their meaning. It was just him and those last minutes infinitely repeating themselves. It was merciless. He lived it through a thousand times at least. In the end he just wanted to run as far away as he could but his useless body didn't budge. When he understood that this hell will never go away he finally blacked out.
*
Next time he came to his heavy lids opened up almost involuntarily. A white ceiling welcomed him. Sometimes a woman's sickly sweet smile appeared in his vision. He didn't care. All he felt were the cut down pack-bonds' jagged edges.
Cora's hurt the most.
Sweet, innocent little Cora. She was a hellish child - resembling him a bit - completely wrapping the adults around his little pinkie finger, though. She was so full of life... Always up to no good; scheming and tricking everyone with her harmless and absolutely transparent plans. She messed up Laura's irritatingly tidy room leaving hand-made chocolate bonbons under her pillow to placate her. She enticed her human cousins into bets they couldn't possibly win and stole her mother's papers from her desk and decorated them with colourful crayon drawings about the pack.
When Peter was home Cora instantly monopolized his attention. She latched onto his leg or hand, breathlessly reported every little thing Peter missed since his last visit and dragged him off to play. Or do anything, really. She always looked at him with such adoration in her eyes, it warmed him up entirely.
She was the only one who showed him unconditional love.
She didn't judge him.
She liked to touch his exposed fangs and tried to mimic the silly faces he pulled exclusively for her entertainment.
Her favourite colour was the cool blue of Peter's eyes.
*
The constant burn of his cells as his body mended itself; the slowly piercing sensation of agony reminded him of fireworks crackling under his skin.
Cora loved fireworks. She followed the sparkling beams with her tiny fingers, mouth forming silent 'O'-s and 'A'-s. She was delightful. Peter never understood her love for that stupid, obnoxiously loud thing but that never stopped him to dig up every festival and celebration throughout California. He grabbed Cora and Derek along with their willing cousins and they were off with multiple packs of iced juice and chocolate bars. Peter bought bowls of popcorn and pieces of huge candy-floss and they congregated around him, awed expressions on their small faces when the first rockets went up.
Those were the most carefree days of his life. He felt happy. Content. Loved. He took care of his pups and that was all that mattered.
A lone tear escaped his eyes.
He will kill the culprits.
One by one.
The End
Title: The Million Pieces of His Heart
Rating: PG-13
Character/s: Peter Hale, members of the Hale family mentioned
Summary: “The constant burn of his cells as his body mended itself; the slowly piercing sensation of agony reminded him of fireworks crackling under his skin.”
Peter could only lie in his hospital room and relive the fire that destroyed his life. The pain brings memories and the memories inspire a deep-seated desire for revenge.
Warnings: mentions of canon character deaths (Hale-fire), ANGST, mental and physical anguish
Content Notes: canon-compliant, pre-1st Season
Submission Type: Ficlet
Word Count: 997
Prompt: #180 - Fireworks
Author's Notes: Pretty dark and bittersweet. Maybe Peter before the fire looks a bit OOC but I think he’s really not : )
His whole right side prickled and ached. Like thousands of fiery little bugs crawling, biting and poisoning every fibre of his being with acid. Endless screams echoed in his mind. He wanted to tear his skin apart; he would've done anything to get away from this purgatory. Flames were eating away his world, relentlessly and merrily dancing in their cruel victory.
*
When he arrived he couldn't believe his eyes. The unsettling and unfamiliar scents reached him and lured him out from the middle of the woods where he liked to trek. They clashed with Talia again and he needed some fresh air. He sprinted back like never in his life.
He tried to help. Nothing else mattered. His bitter relationship with Talia, their frequent fights over generally every little decision and mainly about what was good for the pack, for the kids especially seemed to disappear. Their last fight... He had been unusually angry. He had a break at university and he went home just to meet a closed off, unfriendly and cold Derek. It was so unlike him... He couldn't convince him to talk about it. He had a soft spot for the kid. It caused an uncomfortable ache in his soul to see him like that. So... empty. He shifted erratically while yelling in his sister's face regarding how she neglected Derek in favour of so full-of-herself Laura. That previous fury, his constant scorn toward Talia's methods seemed to fade into nothing. Adrenaline and fear pumped in his veins, his blood loudly banged in his ears. Thanks to the eye-watering heat his stupidly expensive designer clothes started to melt into his skin. He didn't even realise it. Dirty-grey, almost black smoke evaporated from their once beautiful home. He mocked Talia many times because of that too. How he spat in her face that they were all sitting ducks in a big, fancy country-style house playing good citizens... So unlike their nature. His sister just smiled patronizingly with pity in her eyes and that irritated him like nothing else in the world. The derision he met every time among his beloved family and the stinging pain of always being an outsider, of always remaining alone no matter how big a pack they had... Nothing mattered, only survival. Theirs. Him, the so-called cautious, selfish, manipulative jerk just wanted to get in the house and pick up as many pack-members as he was capable of to save them. His claws desperately scratched the mountain-ash barrier. Giving up never occurred to him. If something, he's been always persistent. Desperation fuelled his beta strength and that was the only passable explanation of how he could crawl his right side through inch by inch. Blood poured from his fingers and the stench of burning flesh assaulted his nose. He cried and whimpered, repeating the names of his loved ones like a mantra. To no avail. He was late. He couldn't hear their pleas and screams anymore.
The pressure from the mountain-ash grew unbearable. He fought tooth and nail against the fast approaching unconsciousness. His last thought was 'I just want to die with them.'
He didn't. He woke up to pain even worse than the fire in his memories. He didn't understand. Time and space lost their meaning. It was just him and those last minutes infinitely repeating themselves. It was merciless. He lived it through a thousand times at least. In the end he just wanted to run as far away as he could but his useless body didn't budge. When he understood that this hell will never go away he finally blacked out.
*
Next time he came to his heavy lids opened up almost involuntarily. A white ceiling welcomed him. Sometimes a woman's sickly sweet smile appeared in his vision. He didn't care. All he felt were the cut down pack-bonds' jagged edges.
Cora's hurt the most.
Sweet, innocent little Cora. She was a hellish child - resembling him a bit - completely wrapping the adults around his little pinkie finger, though. She was so full of life... Always up to no good; scheming and tricking everyone with her harmless and absolutely transparent plans. She messed up Laura's irritatingly tidy room leaving hand-made chocolate bonbons under her pillow to placate her. She enticed her human cousins into bets they couldn't possibly win and stole her mother's papers from her desk and decorated them with colourful crayon drawings about the pack.
When Peter was home Cora instantly monopolized his attention. She latched onto his leg or hand, breathlessly reported every little thing Peter missed since his last visit and dragged him off to play. Or do anything, really. She always looked at him with such adoration in her eyes, it warmed him up entirely.
She was the only one who showed him unconditional love.
She didn't judge him.
She liked to touch his exposed fangs and tried to mimic the silly faces he pulled exclusively for her entertainment.
Her favourite colour was the cool blue of Peter's eyes.
*
The constant burn of his cells as his body mended itself; the slowly piercing sensation of agony reminded him of fireworks crackling under his skin.
Cora loved fireworks. She followed the sparkling beams with her tiny fingers, mouth forming silent 'O'-s and 'A'-s. She was delightful. Peter never understood her love for that stupid, obnoxiously loud thing but that never stopped him to dig up every festival and celebration throughout California. He grabbed Cora and Derek along with their willing cousins and they were off with multiple packs of iced juice and chocolate bars. Peter bought bowls of popcorn and pieces of huge candy-floss and they congregated around him, awed expressions on their small faces when the first rockets went up.
Those were the most carefree days of his life. He felt happy. Content. Loved. He took care of his pups and that was all that mattered.
A lone tear escaped his eyes.
He will kill the culprits.
One by one.
The End