7) Chapter Seven

16.9K 584 184
                                    


LAST CHAPTER

"Well," I say standing up once again "I gave you an explanation so that means I can leave now" I turn and step out of the circle of mountain ash, then proceed to walk towards the door.

As I am about to walk out of the door Lydia called out to me.

"When are you coming back to school?"

Glancing over my shoulder I see everyone staring at me.

"I'm not coming back to school Lydia"

"Stiles" begins Isaac "you can't just 'not come back to school'"

Turning to face them I begin

"When I said I was going to leave I didn't mean the loft...I meant I'm leaving the pack" I turn and walk towards the door and finish...

-

-

-

-

-

"I meant I'm leaving Beacon Hills..."

NOW

"Stiles you can't..."

"Just try and stop me Dad" I respond as I continue to throw my belongings into a suitcase.

"Stiles...please"

"No Dad this is my final decision...they wanted me gone and now I'm going" I growl, my eyes turning purple for a few seconds as I turn to look at my Dad. When I see him I see the expression of worry and sadness on his face.

Walking towards my Dad I pull him into a hug "But just because I'm leaving now doesn't mean that I'm gonna stay gone forever...I'll be back" I pull away from my Dad and look him I the eyes.

"When I'm ready I promise that I'll be back I add softly.

"Well at least leave this mess" my Dad motions his arms around my room "until morning"

"Alright" I respond "Goodnight I guess"

Letting out a sigh of relief my Dad goes to leave my room, as he does he turns back and says "Goodnight"

After I've heard him walk downstairs I turn and sit on my bed. As I move to lie down y phone suddenly rings, letting out a sigh I quickly grab the phone and check to see who's calling...its Scott.

I deny the call and text him instead...because I'm really not in the mood for talking.

STILES: wat scott?

SCOTT: I heard what happened. We need to talk

STILES: tomorrow morning?

SCOTT: k

Turning off my phone I set it down on the nightstand and move to go to bed. Lying down I stare up at the ceiling and begin to dread the morning to come.

Not Just Human...Where stories live. Discover now