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| Revised Chapter |
3rd POV
Nobody was there to see the distress on Stiles' face when he'd made the call to Jackson to come and pick up the girls. He wasn't allowed to do much else with Peter breathing down his neck, forcing him to take his jeep and ditch the scene.
Jackson had ran there, the phone call his heart beat so quickly that he could hear the pounding in his ears and the moment he'd ended the call, he was screaming for someone to call an ambulance.
"Come on baby, stay with me." Jackson pleaded, lifting Layla's head and setting it in his lap. She was bleeding profusely from her temple and Lydia was beside her not looking much better. There was blood everywhere—so much that Jackson couldn't tell what was injured and what was just smudged. "Come on."
The ambulance came to the school sirens blaring, the gurney was rolled onto the field, taking Layla's body from his hands, they used a flashlight to check her pupil. "They're blown, we have to get her to the hospital STAT."
"Lydia," He piped up, noticing they only had one gurney. "I'll bring her."
"Hurry up son, they don't have much time."
Jackson carried her bloodied body, the crimson liquid staining his white dress shirt and deeming it unwearable. "Can I come with you?"
"Is she your immediate family?"
He nodded towards Layla's body. "She's my girlfriend and this is her sister. Please, let me go with her, she doesn't have anyone else."
The paramedic lifted the gurney into the car, taking Lydia's body and giving it to the EMT sitting down. "Not enough room, kid. Drive behind us and we'll see what we can do once we get there."
The following actions were don't so quickly hey we're a blur, he drove quicker than the speed limit and following the ambulance all the way to Beacon Hills Memorial, jumping out of the Porsche and almost forgetting to shut the door.
The rushed her body inside, where the sheriff already stood. "What happened out there?"
Jackson tried to pass through and get to her, but Stilinski's hand reached out to stop him. "How is she?" Jackson frantically asked, his breathing stopping all together when he saw Layla, laying there with an oxygen mask on her face, helping her breathe.
"Hey!" The sheriff said louder, trying to grab the boys attention. "What the hell happened to those girl?"
"I don't know," He admitted, his hands shaking and his voice cracking at he tried to gather his thoughts fast enough to tell law enforcement what it was that happened. But Jackson didn't even know, except for the fact that it was supernatural. No human had the strength to bash someone's head into dirt so hard that their pupils blow out. "I was looking for Layla and—"
"And what? You just so happened to wander out in the middle of that field and find them there like that? Don't lie to me son!"
"No. I—"
He grabbed ahold of the collar of my suit and slammed me into the wall. His eyes were ablaze and the only reason why Jackson didn't fight back the way he knew he could, was because Layla was laying right there and if they made him leave the hospital, they wouldn't let him come back to check up on her. "What happened to them?"
"This isn't my fault!"
"She's your girlfriend! That's your responsibility." He jostled the teenager into the wall again, his teeth gritted while yelling at Jackson.
"No, she's not!" Jackson shouted, the frustration and anger building when he realized that this man thought that he tried to kill the girls. "I didn't even go to the formal with her."
"Then who'd she go with?"
Jackson's jaw clenched and nose flared and if he were a cartoon, steam would be coming from his ears. "Do you really wanna know? She went with Stiles."
"What?" Sheriff whispered in disbelief, his grip on Jacksons collar loosened.
"Stiles took her."
He let Whittemore go, pointing a finger in his face breathing heavy, and then turning away. "Somebody better find my son."
