𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 | stiles stilinski ² ✔️

EPILOGUE

Glen Capri was a motel fit for no sane human being. However, maybe staying there by choice declared you insane anyway. Harry Valack had left Beacon Hills as soon as he had been threatened by Sheriff Stilinski, taking only a duffel bag filled with his belongings and some money he had taken from his mother's will.

A couple of days later, he had found himself on the edge of California, his dark eyes landing on the same motel his half sister and her friends had stayed at a couple of months back. He knew nothing about the horrors of staying there since this was a story Harper had never mentioned.

He stayed in room 216, his duffel bag open, his clothes sprawled across one of the single beds. Sure it smelled like nicotine and looked a little odd, but this was like a luxury compared to what he had endured at Eichen House.

Harry flopped back onto the bed that wasn't occupied by his clothes, releasing a shuddering breath as he closed his eyes. Guilt began to consume him. It seemed that every time he shut his eyes he saw the heartbroken look on Harper's face when she found out what he had done.

The sick part was that he would do it again if he had to. As much as he had liked Harper, he couldn't consider her family. She was a way out, that's all she had ever been since Jeremy told him about her.

Before he could think too much about it, a slow knock came from behind the hotel door. He sat up, eyebrows furrowed. Harry could have sworn room service was not part of the deal when he'd bought the room.

Just as he swung his legs over the old mattress, a robotic voice came from the other side of the wall, causing him to freeze.

"Hello Harry," his name came out deep and inhumane, "there's nowhere for you to run."

Harry gulped, his hands starting to tremble as he scrambled for his bag, searching for the pocket knife he had taken with him for protection. A million thoughts raced through his mind all at once. This was nobody from Eichen House, he knew that for sure, but what he didn't know was whether it was better or not.

"Open the door," the robotic sound came again.

Keeping quiet, Harry moved into the bathroom and locked the door, crying out when he heard the front door get smashed down.

"Go away!" He screamed, trying to crack open the window.

It was far too small. He could only just about stick his hand out of the top part.

"Harry," it droned back on, "open the door," it paused, "or I will break it down."

Harry didn't listen, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart was pounding out of his chest as he opened all of the cabinets, praying to find something useful.

The sound of wood being smacked into caused him to stumble in his crouched position. He turned around, horrified to see that an axe had come through the door. Harry scrambled into the corner, wedging himself between some cabinets in a lame attempt to hide from the intruder.

Suddenly the banging stopped. Everything went still, even the air around Harry felt stiff. He couldn't stop the heavy breaths that escaped his lips, his fright a clear indication of where he was.