for most people, a home is a structure with four walls and a roof. for phoebe whittemore and isaac lahey, their homes were each other. their homes were their lover's hearts.
[book is not finished, just protecting it from wattpad lol]
ISAAC LAHEY X...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♛
𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧, he knew this. He also knew that the deadweight of the teenager he bit was not what he expected. Dragging the body of Phoebe Whittemore through the woods of Beacon Hills had proven to be a difficult task.
Sure, he could've easily carried her, but he didn't want any blood on his nice shirt.
He wasn't new to the whole killing, dragging, hiding, and burying thing; he did it with his own family, of course. Nathaniel was just a complicated, heartless, and unafraid man. That's definitely why he let out a loud shriek when Phoebe muttered, "what are you doing?"
At first, he thought he was hearing things, but the teen started to fight back with the strength she had left in her. She kicked her feet, trying to free them from his grasp that was too tight for her liking. Of course, he's holding on tight, Phoebe reminded herself, he's kidnapping you.
"Would you," Nathaniel yanked her legs harshly, earning a groan from the girl, "stop fucking moving so much." He didn't hear a response from the girl. So, with a smug smile on his face, he continued on the path to the old wooden house that he used to call "home".
Phoebe was in and out of it for the rest of the journey, jolting up when her head would hit the ground too hard, or a stick hit her in the wrong places, but she never fought back again. She was tired; she was dying, and Nathaniel knew that.
He could smell the blood coming from her gaping wound, the bullet still inside of her small frame. The way her heart slowed down and the blood in her veins wasn't traveling as fast as it once did. He enjoyed the pain he felt from her body, he didn't even have to do the job himself.
All he had to do was sit and wait for her to bleed out, then he'd toss her in the river and hope no one would find her body.
When Phoebe came to once more, she heard the wind howling, the creaking of the wood beneath her, and the metallic taste on her tongue. She blinked the fogginess away, adjusting her eyesight to the new lighting. It wasn't bright anymore, like it was in the police station, wherever she was, it was almost too dark for her to even see at all.
"Are you awake?" She heard someone whisper, someone young, causing her to flinch and groan in pain. The voice immediately started apologizing, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I was just...well, you know, trying to see if you were dying on me or not."
Phoebe blinked hastily, fear creeping through her body. Was this it? "Who-" She cut herself off, wetting her lips and trying again. "Who are you?" She said, this time a lot quieter to try and avoid the scratchiness in her voice.
