The Greene Effect - REWRITE!!

CHAPTER THIRTY - PUNISHMENT

Amelia Greene -

I awoke the next morning thinking someone was pushing down on my chest.

I soon realized that was not the case, but dread had snuck in whilst I was sleeping, and decided to burrow deep inside me.

My head was throbbing and I groaned as I sat up, swallowing down a parched throat and stretching muscles that had tightened in the cold. Stiles was in a similar state, with his hair an added mess on top.

Aiello was nowhere to be seen. But I hardly paid attention to that fact, knowing that Pierson had something planned to punish the two of us.

Pierson. Stiles seemed to realize it the same second I did, looking at me with an aghast expression. That's why dread carried so much weight. I'm the one who placed it upon their back.

"Don't say anything," I begged in a small voice. "Please."

He nodded, looking down. I shut my eyes, easing the tension in my temples for a moment. Peace truly laid beyond this existence.

I'm never touching alcohol again.

I quickly put on a mask, knowing that a heartsick expression must be resting on my face. No one, especially he, can see it.

We begrudgingly left to meet with the Sergeant, who no doubt would be bathing in sadistic pleasures at getting a chance to punish us. I squirmed at the idea of having to face him, after my meltdown, and after everything I said.

I'm not sure if I regret it. I do regret the fact that I had to be drunk and look like an irrational mess.

"Here we go," Stiles mumbles, seeing him first. Refusing to look up, I follow his feet, trusting he'll lead me right to him. Pierson's calloused eyes glare daggers into me, but it's easy to pretend not to feel it.

"Sir," Stiles says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. Judging by the way his feet shift, Pierson directs his glare to him. Guilt bubbles in my stomach. I should have gotten him involved in my issues.

"You two know better," he mimics disappointment but I know he hardly cares. "Especially you, Greene."

I physically bite my tongue. You're one to talk. As if he didn't consume half of all the alcohol we have in this base. He's the biggest damn hypocrite on earth. I wonder if that'll ever bite him in the ass.

"Stiles, you have to run ten laps around the base. Howard is gonna watch and make sure you do all ten. Meet him at the range each time."

It's not a particularly harsh punishment, though the snow would be an added difficulty. Anyone with seeing eyes could tell Stiles was not the one Pierson was truly mad at, though. The moment he's finished his eyes flicks back to me.

Knowing he got off easy, he passes me a glance of pity. "Yes, Sergeant."

Pierson waits until Stiles disappears. I refuse to look at him, with eyes he called pretty once. Must he stall this out for so long? He must like watching me have to hold in copious amounts of anger.

"Greene, you're on kitchen duty. Then, you clear the snow for every road entrance into here. After that, clear out that pile of wood near HQ. I want it all done by sundown or you're doing it again tomorrow, understand?"

My jaw drops the slightest bit; not enough to satisfy him with knowing he's gotten to me. Internally, I'm screaming words that my dear mother would go into shock at hearing. I force my eyes upwards, confident they're dispassionate instead of vulnerable.

"Yes, Sergeant," I hiss.

He dismisses me, flicking his fingers out as if to say, 'move along.'