The Absence of Truth | S. Stilinski

XXVI. | red hands

XXVI. | red hands

                   I TOOK SARAH'S limp hand and placed it over the jacket, hoping the weight would keep some pressure on the wound. It wasn't ideal, but the best I could do for the time being. Matt grabbed the back of my dress and yanked me to my feet when he thought I was taking too long, then pulled me flush with the front of his body. He turned us so we were facing the wooden door I'd walked through not five minutes earlier, and then I heard it too. Footsteps making their way closer and closer to us. Internally, I hoped it was Stilinski with his own loaded gun, ready to kill the bastard standing behind me.

Instead, it was Stiles that ran through the door, panting as if he'd run the entire way here. My heart dropped as he careened closer to me until he realized the seriousness of the situation and skidded to a halt. His eyes widened when he saw my red hands and legs from kneeling in the pool of blood, then they widened even more when he saw the state of Sarah. Finally, they stopped widening when he made eye contact with Matt, who still had a hunk of my dress bunched up in his fist. His other hand was holding the gun, now poised at my right temple. A warning to Stiles, no doubt.

"Let her go," Stiles said firmly, eyes not meeting mine. I could tell he was nervous.

Matt laughed and dug the gun harder into my temple. "Why should I?" He asked tauntingly. Stiles didn't answer, so Matt pulled me closer to him and whispered lowly in my ear. "You know, I heard you and your aunt talking before I came in. About how you and Stiles Stilinski had been caught fondling each other in the hallway."

"That's not what happened," I said viciously, wanting to pull away but knowing I couldn't. Instead, I let tears roll down my face. "Please let me go."

"Not gonna happen," Matt told me, straightening so he could talk to Stiles now. "Why should I let her go, Stilinski?"

Stiles was trying to reason now, holding his hands up in surrender. "Matt, we can work this all out. My dad, he can help you. Just let Quinn go."

I sucked in a deep breath and fought back the rest of my tears. If anyone was going to beg for my life, it was going to be me. Only me. I stood straighter and hoped I looked less scared. "What do I need to do for you to let me go?" I asked Matt, braving a glance over my shoulder. I hadn't realized how close we actually were, because I was surprised to see his crazy eyes glaring back at me with such intensity. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He whispered, digging the gun into my head even further. I swallowed the disgust in my mouth and nodded a very slow nod. He spoke normally then, shrugging his shoulders and pushing me away from him with immense strength. "Why don't you give Stilinski another kiss while I try to figure out what to do next."

I stumbled away from Matt and grabbed onto Stiles's arms when I was close enough to him. My hands left red marks all along his shirt sleeves, but he didn't seem to care. "Did he hurt you?" He asked fervently, leaning in close as to try and give us some privacy.

"No, no," I mumbled, eyes welling up again, not stopping even though I tried my hardest to keep them at bay. "But he shot Sarah. She's losing a lot of blood."

Behind me, I could hear Matt as he interrupted us. "Oh, blah, blah, blah. She'll be fine if we could just hurry this up. See? I'm trying to be nice by letting you say goodbye to each other, but you're wasting it. Almost like you want to die."

My eyes were wide as I stumbled on the word, "Goodbye?"

"Yeah," Matt said walking up behind me until I could feel the barrel of the gun pressed up against the back of my head. My breathing hitched. "Adios, goodbye, same difference. Now give your boy toy a kiss so we can move on."