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𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚chapter fourteen

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𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚
chapter fourteen





    Allison sat in her car, her heart racing, overwhelmed by the weight of her family's secret—one she had only begun to unravel. As the sirens blared behind her, red and blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror, intensifying her anxiety.

         "Oh, come on, not now," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration as she quickly pulled to the side of the road and parked. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, a mix of fear and guilt.

        "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she chastised herself, fumbling to grab her license and registration. Rolling down the window, she squinted as a flashlight beam pierced the darkness, momentarily blinding her. As the light shifted, she let out a small gasp upon seeing Sheriff Stilinski standing there, a concerned expression on his face.

        "Allison? Are you all right?" he asked, his voice steady yet soft, like a reassuring balm to her frayed nerves.

          "Yeah. I'm sorry I was going so fast. I didn't realize... I..." Her words stumbled over each other, a rush of panic clawing at her throat. As she struggled to find her composure, she felt the familiar surge of teenage emotions rising up, pushing against the walls she had built.

         Stilinski's brow furrowed slightly. "Oh no."

       Before she could stop herself, tears began to spill down her cheeks. The dam she had built around her emotions crumbled, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

          "Okay. All right. You weren't going that fast. It was only 75. In a 25. In a construction zone," he tried to reason with her, but his words barely registered.

        "Oh God, I'm not crying to get out of the ticket. Please don't think I'm like that," she said, shaking her head as she tried to wipe her tears away, the embarrassment washing over her like a cold wave.

        "It's okay. Perfectly okay," Stilinski said, his tone gentle.

         "No, please. Write me the ticket. You have to give me a ticket." The words tumbled out in a desperate plea. She needed something to anchor her in the reality of her chaos.

      "I don't think that would help—" he began, but she interrupted him, her frustration boiling over.

         "This is humiliating. I swear I'm not like this!" she exclaimed, slamming her hands against the steering wheel in a burst of frustration.

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