Scars Left by Memories ↠ Stiles Stilinski [1]

23

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃
You can't wake up this is not a dream

THE sound of an incessant buzzing echoed loudly through the ears of the sleeping blonde.

She let her hands sweep over her face as she grabbed ahold of her flashing iPhone, sliding her thumb across the screen before allowing herself to sink back into her fluffy pillow. ​ "Hello?" ​

The only sound she received was someone's nervous and heaving breathing on the other end, there had also been the sound of crackling - like electricity had been floating around the room. Alex's eyes snapped open, pushing herself into sitting position before pulling her phone away from her ear to see the caller ID. Why was Stiles calling her so late?

The wavering in his breathing had been enough for her to go from drowsy to panicked in a matter of seconds. ​

"Stiles, are you there?" Alex asked, voice shaking as she tried to regulate her pounding heart. "Stiles?"  ​

"Alexandria?" ​

"Hey, I'm here," Alex rushed out, frantically pushing the blankets off her legs before allowing her feet to dangle off the side of the bed. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"  ​

"Alex, I don't — I don't know where I am," Stiles began, his voice had been so low and quiet that Alex was having to strain her hearing in order to understand what he was saying. "I don't know how I got here. I think I was sleepwalking." ​

A wave of pure panic coursed through the blonde, enough so that for a moment she felt as though she were going to throw up. Just the idea of something being wrong with Stiles had her pushing herself off the bed, eyes wide as she quickly moved around the corner of the mattress. Her movements were frantic, maneuvering toward her closet in a state of panic as she stumbled to find a pair of jeans. ​

Just as the coarse material of her jeans brushed her fingers, she found herself subconsciously spitting out words, "Okay, um, can you see anything? Just tell me what you see, Stiles."  ​

"Ah," Stiles pondered for a moment before he continued, "It's dark — it's hard to see. I think there's something wrong with my—" ​

The call suddenly dropped and she had been left with a black screen as she clumsily tried to yank on her jeans. She quickly redialed his number, but to no avail as his voicemail recited itself to the panicked original.

She ended the call and tried again. Running her hand over her face she knew that she needed to keep a level-head, understanding that having a panic attack or a mental breakdown wasn't going to help her find Stiles.

Just as she ended the failed called, her phone began to buzz in the palm of her hand. The tip of her finger slid across the screen with force, placing the device against her ear.  ​"Stiles?"