My Pack of Protectors

Scarlett Hanson is new to Beacon Hills, she's only been around for a month or so. Now she's a target, and she's got some pretty awesome bodyguards. But she doesn't know what is targeting her, or why her in the first place. Will she fall for one of her bodyguards? Does she learn what is targeting her? Of all places to move, why Beacon Hills?


19. Away!

I climbed the stairs and headed into the bathroom first, braided my hair, then splashed some cold water on my face to wake me up a little bit more. I dried my face and exited the bathroom going to the room in the back, and opened the window. I peered out and surveyed the drop, if I was going to do this, I needed to take this jump. 

So I climbed up on the sill and jumped. For a moment I considered the fact that if I landed the wrong way, I could seriously hurt myself. I could possibly not make the landing. Too many possibilities and I realized them all to late. 

I could say that my life flashed before my eyes, as the possibility of death got closer, but it really didn't. All I saw was different scenarios of how this could play out. Almost all of them had me landing wrong and dying. Though I knew it was a slim chance. I'd probably just break my leg or ankle or something like that. 

My feet hit the dirt and I rolled a little ways, then I stood and ran through the forest in nothing but a long shirt and nothing on my feet. I kept running, and didn't look back. I couldn't. If I looked back... I could be tempted to go back and I can't go back. 

At least I hadn't killed myself on the landing, I thought to myself. That was a lucky break. 

As soon as I was clear of Scott's house, I bolted back out onto the street and ran to my house, knowing all too well the direction to get back home. I bolted into my house and ran up the stairs, right into my bedroom, determined to get done fast so I could get back to Scott's before they noticed that I was gone. Lydia was going to cover for me. 

I threw open my closet and started rifling through as fast as I could. It was going to be fine. I tossed a pair of black joggers onto my bed and unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it into a pile of dirty laundry and pulled a red plaid shirt on and buttoned it up. I reached for the pants when an arm wrapped around my neck and held a paper towel over my mouth and nose. 

"Say goodnight, Lettie." Whispered a voice I knew I could place but whatever I was breathing in was doing a good job of knocking me out. 

Soon, I couldn't hold on any longer and I saw nothing but black as my body went limp. It occurred to me in the last moment before I went out. There was only one person who called me Lettie. Giselle. 

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