BAD BLOOD (Teen wolf Fanfiction

657 days. 15778 hours. 946707 minutes. 56802466 seconds. 2 years. Almost.

I can hear them laughing. I can hear them walking. I can hear them talking. Step by step, he got closer to me. He stared at me with his fiery red eyes as he sat on the stool right in front of me. The corner of his lips rose revealing his sharp fangs.

"Jesse Argent." He said, still smirking menacingly. "Are you ready to talk?"

I have to escape. I have to tell them. They have to know.

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1. Chapter one

Jesse's P.O.V

I didn't know where I'm going. I didn't even own a driver's license to get to Beacon Hills. After my miraculous escape, I went to the place where I hid most of my stuff two years ago, before checking out the Atacama Desert in Peru, I bought a little shed in the town outside the desert. I found about 800 dollars, two shotguns and my daggers, with that I bought myself a ticket to California after doing some intense research on the whereabouts of my uncle Christopher. I tried contacting my grandfather in France, but nobody answered. Naturally, I went to my second backbone, my uncle Christopher who moved to Beacon hills a couple of years ago, which is a town located between Paradise, CA and Plumas National Forest.

How do you smuggle guns to a plane? I do not, but I will smuggle my daggers. When you go through the airport security, your handbag goes through the X-Ray machine. It's great and all, except for its one vulnerability; you can smuggle metal if you position it at the right angle thus appearing as a thin line. Pretty smart, huh?

From the Sacramento International Airport, I took a bus to Paradise, then I ran out of money. I had two choices: steal a car, or hitch hike. I wasn't going to hitch hike. This is so beneath me. That is what I thought before I stopped a car on the main highway.

"Where are you heading?" A woman asked me after rolling down her window. 
"Beacon Hills." I respond, paying careful attention to her movements and facial expressions. I can see that she was observing my face that is full with injuries; a cut lip accompanied with some bruises at the corners, swollen cheek and a black eye.

"Get in," she slid the back door of the mini van for me, "make some room kids."

There were three kids in the van other than me, as I understood, they were on vacation. They asked me about my beaten up face, I told them that I was in an accident.

"Do you live in Beacon Hills?" The man asked me, his voice was loud enough to go through the blasting music, and I thanked God for that because I have been having some hearing problem ever since they started beating me up for answers.

"Oh, no!" I shout loud enough for him to hear me, "I'm just visiting."

The rest of the trip was kind of musical...This pair has a 4 year old daughter that kept singing something about letting things go or something. The parents chimed in too, with their second daughter. The boy kept complaining about their song choices, which I completely agreed with internally. After letting things go, she went on to sing about a snowman in the summer. What kind of things are these kids watching these days?!
I thanked God a hundred times when we arrived to Beacon hills! This meant I was free from their murderous singing. However, they insisted on dropping me off at the hospital to get my face checked out, I tried to decline their request, but they were so stubborn that they dragged my ass to the hospital and didn't leave until they made sure I was inside. I sat down in the emergency room, keeping an eye at their silhouettes' outside the doors. As soon as they moved, I was going to make my escape.

"What's your name, honey?" A nurse walks in, holding the board thingies that all nurses use.

"Jesse." 
"Well, Jesse. I'm Melissa, tell me what happened?"

"I was in an accident." Melissa looks up to me suspiciously, then writes stuff on her board.
"How old are you?"
"Most probably sixteen." I hesitated a bit when answering her, to tell the truth I didn't now. I counted the days I've been captured using the tally system,so I did not know today's date.

"You're not sure?" She asked me confusingly. I can see her confused look, but it's her job, she must have had a lot of beaten up teens here. At least I hoped she did.

"I need to hear your heartbeat." She demanded.Oh shit, I thought.

She gestured for me to turn around and then raised my shirt revealing my amazing collection of scratch scars and fresh scratches. I can feel her being taken a back for a minute, then she asked me to breathe in and out. When she finished, she started interrogating me about the scratches, which I tried to blame on my non existent dog. When she finally gave up, she let out a sigh and headed to the door, before leaving she told me to stay put, which is exactly the opposite of what I intended on doing.

As soon as she got out, I waited for a few minutes, then I jumped out of the bed and through the window, I escaped. I started to run to an indefinite direction. I had the address, I just needed directions. I decided to ask someone, but the problem with that is that this town was kind of dead. I started walking and it took me 30 minutes before I could find a living soul that would point me to the freaking directions. A few hours in this town, and I already hated it. The stranger was kind enough to show me the way, and within 15 minutes I was in the building.

Knock. Knock. Ding. Knock. Ding .

I knocked a thousand time, I also rang the bell a thousand times. They must be hunting or something. I pulled out my dagger and started to pick the lock with its sharp end. Boo-ya! I muttered when the door successfully opened. The apartment was dark and quite, before I got in I looked for the alarm system, once I spotted it, I deactivated it. How? You may ask. That's a secret.

I studied the place carefully, auntie Victoria has certainly changed her taste. I made sure to open every room's door till I found Allison's, I grab some of her clothes and wore them. I was sure she wouldn't mind.

Allison is my older cousin, uncle Chris's daughter. When we were young, we were inseparable, or so I've heard. We've always been in touch, we just lost touch two times: when I first moved to France which lasted for only a couple of months before connecting again, and when I went missing in action. I love Allison, she gave me comfort when I lost my parents and she is my best friend. My only friend, actually. I examine the pictures on her wall; some of her and the family, others are with friends. I felt jealous for a second, but quickly shake off that feeling. Allison has grown up to be a lot prettier than I will ever be, she has a beautiful face and I have bruises. 
I grabbed a pencil and paper from her desk, and started making a list:

TO DO LIST:
1) Buy a Phone
2) Try to call grandpa again
3)Buy fresh clothes OR ask Allison to use hers
4)

I did not actually have a fourth task, I just threw it in just to think about it. I tried to wait up for my uncle and his family, but instead, I drifted into sleep.

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