20// RETAIL THERAPY

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CHAPTER TWENTY; RETAIL THERAPY

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CHAPTER TWENTY;
RETAIL THERAPY

JAELYN
Life had always been easy for me. Sure it had its moments, times of great sadness and misfortune, but in the end it was easy.

I am a Whittemore after all, along with my family's riches and my obvious beauty, not to sound too self-centered, I should get along just fine.

So tell me why I, Jaelyn Whittmore, queen of Beacon Hills High and all that inhabit it, have been targeted, shot, attacked, dragged through the mud, and betrayed all in a span of less then three months. I'll tell you why, love.

True to its core, rip ur heart out of ur chest love.

The kind of love poets write about, the kind of love that makes you go crazy, do crazy things, say crazy things, and tell crazy lies. The kind of love that will let you stare down the barrel of, what I can only assume was a military grade weapon, and feel nothing. Because you've been numbed by this little thing called love.

It's sickening.

I've had to wash scarlet blood out of my perfect blonde locks far too many times in the last three months, and I've become all too familiar with the hospital staff at Beacon Hills Memorial. All for my undeniable painstaking love for one person, or should I say one werewolf.

Scott McCall.

I've lied for him, I've lied to him, I've thrown myself in the most dangerous of situations all because of my love for him, all because I've wanted to keep him safe. Scott is my teenage dream, my epic love, and he can't even look at me.

Scott can't face me because he can't stand the amount of danger I put myself in, can't stand all the lies I've told him to keep him safe. But he needs to understand that I can't help myself, you'll do anything if you think it'll help the people you love.

I don't know if Scott loves me like I love him, but what I do know is that right now he is sitting across from me on a steel metal table in the vets office where he works, getting his arm bandaged up after the bullet he took for me.

I am standing across from Scott watching his boss, Dr. Deaton, who is apparently some kind werewolf specialist, bandage his wounded arm.

Stiles and I were suppose to be meeting Scott at the Hale house, where we assumed my idiotic twin brother, Jackson, was with Derek Hale. Jackson was on some stupid power trip trying to become a werewolf, I swear Jack's ego will be the death of him. As we were in the process of saving Jackson's ass, whom was now resting unfazed at home, we were faced with a group of hunters. The hunters presumably lead by the rouge Kate Argent.

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