Spurious [Sequel To Open Your Eyes] *editing*

[21] It's For...Anti Possession

Claire:

There's no way in holy hotcakes that I can reach that. At least not without a super jump or a ladder. "Are you going to start or just stare at it all day?"

I turn my attention away from the metal pull-up poll over to the deep voice that broke my concentration. His arms are firmly crossed across his chest as he watches in subtle amusement at how distorted I appear.

"Well unless you have a ladder that magically appears at a wave of your werewolf powers-- then being 5'5 is not gonna cut it." I remark to Derek, turning my head to face the bar again.

As promised I've been training with Derek and Isaac every morning for around a week now. It started with joining Isaac and him in their daily morning runs; 5am morning runs. Which, no, are not pleasant.

I get cut off from my thoughts when a pair of hands wrap around my waist and hoist me up. Luckily this time around I'm able to curl my hands around the cool metal poll.

Clearing my throat, I try to bring my heartbeat back to normal. "T-thanks." I manage to say somewhat calmly. One of his hands still stays on my waist and I awkwardly glance down to see why he hasn't moved his other hand.

Not that I mind and all...but it's extremely incredibly--distracting. "Uh, you lose something there hondo?" I start to feel my face heat up as his hand lifts up part of my shirt.

A part where I don't want people looking.

I quickly put my attention back towards the bar and hastily pull up, making him pull my shirt down. Great. Now I'm stuck with my chin over the bar or dangling back down for him to see that spot.

"Was that a--"

"ONE." I yell out, moving back down and swinging my legs around in an unnecessary manner. Derek takes a step back to avoid getting a foot to the mouth.

Pulling back up quickly, I instantly regret not having more upper body strength as my arms start to burn and wobble.

"That was a tattoo wasn't it?" His smirk is practically radiating through the room as I struggle to move down and quickly move back up once again.

"Two." I count off, ignoring his question. My arms get extremely sore and I let out an annoyed huff of air.

What the actual heck? I can honestly not be this worn out already...I'm going to lose ten bucks to Stiles if I am.

A sudden shock of pain vibrates throughout my entire left arm and my grip completely falters from it. Okay. That's definitely not from being a wimp with hardly any upper body strength.

Letting out a sharp cry of pain I lift my arm up again, struggling momentarily to grasp the bar, before finally grabbing it with both arms again.

"Three." I repeat the process of doing a pull up, trying my best to ignore the burning pain. Holy guacamole, that hurt. And this is exactly why I tend to use light weight bows.

My body dangles downward, arms shaking the whole way back up. "Four." I manage to spit out, my left arm burning full on again. I sloppily drop down, arms dangling, no matter how much the pain.

"Come on, Claire. You're not even half way there." Derek's voice echos from another part of the loft. Obviously he's not around and sees my real freakin struggle right now.

I bite my lip to hold back a small whimper. Come on, you got stabbed in the hand for Pete's sake. Just ignore your arm and don't be a wimp. With a determined look on my face, I begin to lift myself up slowly.

Only to come up half way and drop harshly back down.

The pain is pulsating throughout my bad arm and now the sensitive skin of my scar from the stab is burning up too. "I--I can't. It's an old injury I got." I explain, letting out a cough of despair.