13
200 Words
"You want another pretty little scar in your chest, Clay?" One of them - Theodore, I think his name was - growled. Before I knew it, Stefan had hold of my throat with one hand, and with the other he forced me onto my knees. Theodore ripped my white shirt open, exposing the scar that trailed down the centre of my torso from the night Erica had lethally staked me, only too close to my heart.
"Sirs, there are carvings!" Somebody screamed. "The prophecy, we've got it!"
Theodore flitted over to him, investigating the rock while Stefan still clutched at my throat. His nails dug into my skin, and I resisted the urge to flinch as I felt my blood rise to the now-open wounds. Stefan had come in front of me now, his hold still on my throat as he taunted a wooden stake in front of me with a smirk on his lips, as if that'd make me afraid.
But despite the fact I could be about to die (again, might I add), I couldn't help but wonder if Amy was all right...
I couldn't help but hope Dustin knew the trouble he'd just caused.
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- Writer
