xxxviii. THE AFTERMATH

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xxxviii. THE AFTERMATH

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Foster's fingers trembled slightly as she retrieved her wallet and cary keys, her mind overthinking what she was preparing to do. After the events that occurred last night, including Allison's and Aiden's death, and the demise of the Nogitsune, Foster and her friends had little to no contact. They all needed a day or two to grieve themselves before they try to help each other out with the process. It was a large thing to grasp, all of them still shell shocked by what happened.

Foster has yet to have Allison's death truly sink in yet. She's still waiting for her phone to go off, Allison asking her about the homework or if she wanted to go to the movies. Of course, that text would never come under the contact name of Allison Argent.

Being disconnected from everyone thought meant that Foster still had yet to tell anyone what she had learned during her time with the Nogitsune back in Oak Creek. Then again, Foster had a feeling that not telling anyone may be a good idea.

It was her secret, and her secret alone. If she told her father that there was a way she could possibly save her mother, he would be ecstatic. Eric Foster had been a shell of himself for the past year ever since his wife's accident, as was Foster. Except, Foster had been a little preoccupied with all of the supernatural problems taking place in this town to visit her mother as much as she liked. She felt like an awful daughter at this point, she had spent little to no time being by her father's side and she rarely visited her mother. 

But this could make up for her mistakes, by bringing her mother back out from her coma. The good thing about her father not knowing was that if she did fail, considering she had absolutely no idea how to go about this, was that she couldn't disappoint him. If he knew, only to see her fail, he would shatter on impact.

Which was why Foster was determined to be alone while this happened, she wasn't going to bring anyone down with her if she failed.

That was the plan, but for the teenagers of Beacon Hills, nothing ever really seemed to go the way they planned.

The fault in Ella Foster's plan came in the form of Peter Hale, her head whipping in the direction of her apartment door when she heard the knob start to twist. She knew it wasn't her father since he was at work, and Isaac was currently at the Argents. Eric was aware the pair had school the next day, but neither of them could bring themselves to go at this point. After witnessing two of their friends die and battling a Nogitsune, they all needed a day off.

In fact, Foster would prefer a year off. No time would ever be enough for her to move on past Allison, Allison would always have a place in her heart. A crack in the organ that would never be completely fixed. 

She assumed that maybe it was Isaac who was coming back from the Argent's residence early, but when a heart stopping figure slipped through the doorway, Foster was sent into a blind panic. Shutting the door, Peter Hale smirked as the girl's face fell stark. 

Her head whipped around in search of a weapon or something - anything - but it was to no avail. There was nothing remotely useful that could ward off this psychopath. 

"Why the hell are you in house?" Foster barked at him, her eyes narrowed into slits as she shot knives in his direction. If looks had the ability to kill, Peter Hale would be dead on the spot.

He merely chuckled as he took a step forward and into her kitchen, allowing his fingers to drum against the counter of the island separating the two. His eyes were lit up to the most vibrant of blues, something sinister playing behind them.

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