Chapter 31

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Chapter 31:

                Brittany’s P.O.V

                “Call Jackson and tell him where she is. That’s all you get for her,” Peter said as he stood there with his arms crossed across his chest. Stiles pulled out his phone and called Jackson. I held Lydia’s head in my lap like she did to me at the school when I hurt my head. She was as pale as a ghost and she had blood dripping all over her. I started to cry as I hugged her head. Why did this have to happen to her? She didn’t do anything to deserve this! “Stand up Brittany.” I shook my head no. I wasn’t going to listen to this guy. “NOW!” He screamed as he grabbed my hair, forcing me to stand up.

                I could feel his claws ripping open the stiches on my neck that I haven’t got out yet. Yup, when I went to the doctors they told me my cut was so bad that I had to leave it in for a few more days.

                “STOP! Can’t you see you’re hurting her?!” Stiles yelled as he put his phone in his pocket and ran to my side. Peter let go of my neck and wiped his claws on his coat.

                “Does it look like I really care?” He asked. “Now let’s get to your jeep.”

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                I rested one hand on my neck, and my other hand was intertwined with Stiles’. He was shaking like crazy, and so was I.  He kept on whispering to me, “I won’t let you get hurt, not again,” but his words weren’t very reassuring at this moment.

                We made it to Stiles’ jeep, where he shakily got out his keys and unlocked the door. Stiles opened the door, and I slid in first. Peter was on the other side of me, and then there was Stiles in the driver’s seat. “Drive to the parking garage,” Peter said as he stared at the couple in a van making out.

                “What? What parking garage? There are a bunch of parking garages in Beacon Hills-” Stiles started, but was stopped by Peter giving him the dirtiest look you could imagine.

                “Just follow my directions, or…” he put his claws over my neck. Stiles jumped forward, but Peter started to dig into my neck making Stiles sit back down. “Her pretty little neck will get ripped open.” I sat there, motionless, too scared to even move. I wasn’t crying, which was a surprise. But I was screaming on the inside.

                “Fine! I’ll drive you! Just please, leave her alone!” Stiles exclaimed as he turned the keys and started his jeep. Peter let his hand fall to his lap and he smirked at me as we pulled out of the school parking lot and headed to a parking garage.

                Peter rested his hand on my leg the whole way there. Stiles noticed it, because he kept on huffing, looking down at my leg, and then giving dirty looks to Peter. But I’m sure his dirty looks aren’t directed just towards his hand being on my leg. They’re directed towards everything he’s done to us. All the hell he’s given us.

                “Now Brittany, I did know your mother, don’t you know that?” Peter asked, breaking the silence. I stared at him in shock.

                “Don’t you dare mention her mother you little-” Stiles started, but Peter put his hand up.

                “Don’t interrupt me,” Peter said. He placed his hand back on my leg. “Yes, she used to live here.”

                “What?!” I screamed. No, she did not. My mom said she was born in San Francisco. I have to calm down; he’s just saying that to freak me out. And it’s working. “You’re lying,” I said, trying not to make my voice sound shaky.

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