IN HER HEART, THERE'S A HOLE
THERE'S A BLACK MARK ON HER SOUL
"How tall are you?"
"Why?"
"Oh, I just asked, so I know how long I should dig your grave."
EPISODE 6: FRENEMY VI. BARTENDERS AND BUCKET LISTS
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I get out of the sleek black SUV, which Uncle Chris was driving, and pull out my gun, as I move towards that thing.
I point at his shoulder, so as to not hurt Jackson, and shoot. He stumbles back a little, and I was about to knock him out, when Uncle Chris comes up behind me, and starts shooting at it.
"No, stop!" I yell, as he empties an entire clip into him. "It's just a kid under that."
"No, there isn't." He tells me, as the kanima drops to the floor. "Not anymore."
I look away, as he starts to examine the place, but turn around again, once I hear a grunting noise.
I see Uncle Chris getting thrown at a pillar, and immediately take my knifes out. The kanima looks at me, and screeches, running towards me.
I move to the side, and stab him in the back, as he tries to claw at me. I hit hit his face with my elbow, but he doesn't even move. I look at him, and he threateningly snarls at me, and grabs my arm, making his claws dig into me, and pushes me towards another pillar, as I groan painfully, feeling blood dripping down my arm.
"Good to know, Jackson's an asshole in all form." I mutter painfully.
« ————— »
I come up behind Scott and Stiles, who were hiding in an alley, beside a club.
"Did you see where he went?" I ask them, and they both jump.
"Aaaahhhh!" Stiles yells, as Scott looks at me with wide eyes.
"Oh, my God, Scott." I say, in disbelief. "You're a werewolf, for God's sakes. Now, stop being jumpy, and tell me if you saw where Jackson went."
"I lost him." He answers.
"You couldn't catch his scent?" I ask.
"I don't think he has one." Scott answers.
"All right, any clue where he's going?" Stiles asks.
"To kill someone." Scott states the obvious.
"Ah, really?" I ask, sarcastically.
"That explains the claws, and the fangs, and all that." Stiles says, in the same tone as me. "Makes perfect sense now." Scott gives us both a look. "What? Scott, come on. I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay? Sarcasm is my only defense."
