Series: Secret Whittemore sister  Episode: Anonymous Bite

"BHAHAHA! HOW THE!" You laughed, gasping for air, you glanced down at your brother who lay on the stairs. "I fell okay Y/n!" Your brother blushed. "You tripped up the stairs!" You started laughing again, imagining him tripping up the stairs. "The big, awesome lacrosse captain for Beacon Hills High team, fell up the stairs! Oh my god!" You laughed, starting to walk away. "Look at you, snob. Going to Devonford Prep!" Your brother got up to his feet. "Oh shut up Jackson." You said, sticking your middle finger up at him as you jogged passed him up the stairs. "MOTHER! Y/N STUCK HER MIDDLE FINGER UP AT ME!" Jackson snitched on you. "Both of you enough. Y/n, hurry along and get changed into your uniform." Your mother said, hushing you both. "Yes mother." You said as you reached the landing.

You ran into your bedroom and slammed the door. "Such a fucking snitch." You muttered, walking over to your closet. You didn't have to wear the uniform, only on particular days. You only had to wear the uniform if you were going on trips or going to watch the lacrosse games, to represent our school or something like that. You wore 

You put your glasses on your face, pushing them over the bridge of your nose.

You grabbed your bag and ran down stairs, you looked around for your lunch but it wasn't there. "Mother! Where's my sandwiches?" You shouted. "You have school meals now! I'll bring your suitcase over to the school later!" Your mother shouted back. "My suitcase?" You asked. "It's a prep school. You stay at prep schools, you idiot, why do you think we're sending you away there!?" Your mother shrieked. Your mother had always prefered your twin brother, Jackson. You were just an accident to her, another freak to set aside, she never wanted a two children. She only wanted one, and they had to be a boy. Your mother had always put Jackson first. "Yes mother.." You sighed. You walked over to the door, picking up your motorcycle keys on your way out. You slammed the door out of fustration, locking it behind you. Your parents were divorced. You were a daddy's kid growing up until they divorced. Your dad has a house he bought for you, waiting for you. He said, "If you ever want to run away and leave home, there's a house waiting for you, it's close to Devonford prep as well sweetheart."

You looked over at your black motorcycle that sat on the drive, with the black helmet on the handle bars. You walked over and took your black helmet from the handle bars and stuck it on your head, adjusting it to the right tightness. (Below is your motorcycle)

You got on your motorbike and started the enging, you revved it for a while and then set off. You sped down the road, doing over the speed limit. The speed limit was 30mph you were doing 45mph. You came close to a corner, so you slowed down and turned the corner. Then, you started racing down the street again, trying to get as far away from that house, as possible. If you left the only person you would miss would've probably been your twin. Jackson. The roads were empty this morning, you were the only one on the entire road. That was until someone came out of nowhere and started crossing the road. A muscular body shape, light brown hair peaked out the black hoodie he was wearing, he looked quite suspicious, as if he were up to no good. You came to a hault so you didn't run over the man. He looked straight at you, his eyes stuck out like a sore thumb, the red glowing eyes. He ran at you, you screamed jumpping of your motorcycle, kicking the latch so it stayed up when you fell. The monster, bit you on the hip. You blinked twice and it was gone. You looked down at your hip, thick, red blood running down your hip. You rummaged through your backpack, getting out anti-bacterial wipes. You cleaned the cut and then got bandages out your bag, you carefully wrapped the bandages around the freshly, cleaned wound.

You got back on your motorcycle and drove off to school, wincing from the pain in your side.

You reached the school within seconds. You climbed off your bike, putting the latch on so it stands and putting your helmet in the helmet compartment in your bike. You slung your bag on one shoulder and walked down the lane to the school. You put your earphones in and hummed as you walked.

You bumped into the chest of a tall, broad, muscular man. You took one earphone out and looked up slightly. It was another student. "Oh, uhm, I'm sorry." You said, scratching the back of your kneck. He sniffed slightly. "Are you bleeding?" The student asked. "I- How the heck did you know?" You asked, shocked on how he knew. "I can smell it." He said looking down at you. "I got bit by something.." You muttered. "Could I take a look, I'm quite good with bites." The student smiled. "Uhm, yeah, sure." You said, raising your shirt a little, revealing a bit of your skin. You took of the bandage and let the weird student look at it. "It's a wolf bite." He said, wrapping a clean bandage around your hip, covering the wolf bite. "I'm Brett, Brett Talbot. Co-Captain of the lacrosse team, soon to be captain." Brett smiled. "I'm Y/n, Y/n Whittemore." You smiled back. "Aha, Jackson Whittemore, are you two related?" Brett asked. "Yeah, I'm the outcasted twin." You smiled, "I should head to the reception now, Brett was it?" You questioned. "Yeah, well come and find me at lunch, I'll save you a seat." He winked, walking off to the coach behind you. "Wait!" You shouted. Brett stopped walking and turned to face you. "Who are you versing today?" You asked. "Crystal springs school." Brett smiled. "Good luck Brett." You smiled. He looked back, smiling and he waved, as he was stopped by a blonde girl.

You walked down to the enterance of the prep school and you pushed the doors open. You walked over to the reception. "I'm new here and I was wondering if I could get my timetable here." You said. "Name?" The reeceptionist asked, not looking up from her paper. "Y/n Whittemore." You put your hands on the counter and started tapping on the tapped area. "What year are you Miss Whittemore?" The receptionist questioned, looking up at you. "Freshman." You smiled remembering your bestfriends, Liam Dunbar and Mason Hewitt started at Beacon Hills high. "Brett Talbot, why is that so familiar?.." You murmured. Your timetable was passed to you as the bell rang. You sprinted off, faster than you had ever sprinted before.

You arrived in class a few minutes late, you had english literature first. You ran in. "Excuse me, sorry I'm late." I panted. My bag fell off my shoulder and it fell to the floor. Everyone in the class laughed because they're pathetic. "Oh my god look at her." A boy whispered. "She looks like a snob." Another boy whispered to a girl. "She looks like a hooker." A girl whispered to another girl. You looked down at the floor. "Uhm, my name's Y/n.. Y/n Whittemore." You said, picking up your bag. "Isn't her family rich?" A boy whispered to the girl next to him. "She must be a slag then, what a slut. Isn't that shameful." The girl whispered to the boy and laughed, quietly. You looked around to see people whispering. The teacher looked at you. Your eyes swelled with tears, everything going on at home and then on top of that the worst possible first day at school. "Why is my life like this.. I hate it.." You whispered. You looked up from the ground to see a blonde girl, the same blonde girl that was talking to Brett earlier. You looked around to see everyone whispering about you. Some how you could hear everything. Things you weren't supposed to hear. It was horrifying what people were saying about you. You dropped your bag and threw it back on your shoulder and then, ran out the changing room. You sprinted all the way to the girls changing rooms. You sat behind the girls changing rooms door.

A few minutes later, you wiped the tears from under your bloodshot eyes and stood up. You got changed into the running outfit you had brought with you just incase something happened.

You got your lacrosse stick out your bag, white and green. You double knotted your shoes and ran out onto the lacrosse pitch. You threw the ball up and spun and caught it. You ran with the lacrosse ball in your stick, dodging the air, you jumped over nothing, as if it were a human there and you shot the ball out your lacrosse into the goal, scoring a goal. You kept on training for hours, skipping lessons until you spotted a familiar figure marching towards you. "Give me that damn lacrosse stick you sick brat!" Your mother shouted, classmated crowded around your mother and you. "Mother, I can explain!.." You yelled. Your mother snatched the lacrosse stick out your hand, cutting your hand. You held it clenched shut to nobody could see your hand. "Mother. Give me. My. Lacrosse. Stick. Now." You said, sternly. "What are you going to do if I don't." Your mother smirked. "You wouldn't dare." You said, coldly. Your mother kept bending your stick back and fourth until she broke the plastic top off. "Dad!" You cried. That was last gift you had gotten from your dad, a part from the house that was set for you. He taught you how to play lacrosse, it was the only good memories you had with him. You dived onto the floor, and picked up the broken lacrosse stick.

"Why would you do that!?" You yelled, standing up. People were stood behind you, shocked on what had happened. You turned and faced your mother. Your eyes were burning a golden-yellow. "I said. WHY. DID. YOU. DO. THAT!?" You snapped. "I-.." Your mother said, scared and speechless. "What's going on here!?" A familiar husky voice asked, pushing through the crowd. "Who's lacrosse stick is that?" The familiar voice asked. "Mine." Your voice came out husky, dark, and croaky. Almost as if they were growls. "Oh shit.." The familiar husky voice muttered. He ran over and put his arm around your shoulder and ran off the lacrosse pitch with you.