𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗫 ♡

The Garcia bolted past the shelves and hid behind another, breathing heavily and her hands becoming clammy. She ducked her head out from the side and swallowed as the pair of eyes had disappeared, although, she ducked back in once a black figure darted past her eyes. It flew past again, knocking over a few shelves while a few DVD cases fell on her shoulders. Instantaneously, the shelves behind Dallas began to fall against each other like dominos.

She leaped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the next falling shelf as she smacked her head against the rough carpet. As she tried to raise herself, she was knocked to the floor again as the humanoid hovered over her. She pushed herself onto her back and tried to crawl away, but she ended up backing into the shelf. Her eyes squeezed shut as the felt it's claw trace down her cheek and across her throat. Its growl echoed throughout the store and caused the ground to shake.

The air around her felt cold as the humanoid swiftly disappeared, leaving the girl crying alone in the messy video store. It leaped through the glass windows, shards shattering across the pavement and into the nearby woods.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Stiles and Noah Stilinski sat parked in his father's cop car as they eat their takeout. "Did they forget my curly fries?"

His son rolled his eyes at his father. "You're not supposed to eat fries, especially the curly ones."

"Well, I'm carrying a lethal weapon," Noah spoke with his mouth full. "If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries."

Stiles took a sip of his soda. "If you think getting rid of contractions in all of your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong."

Noah attempted to scold his son but was cut off by the radio. "Unit One, do you copy?" the dispatcher asked.

The youngest Stilinski choked on his drink and reached for the mic, but his hand was swatted away by his father. The man cleared his throat and brought it to his mouth.

"Unit One, copy."

"Got a report of a possible 187." The dispatcher noted as Stiles sent his dad an enthusiastic look with a mouth full of fries.

"A murder?"

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

The sirens of the ambulance wailed as James Garcia stood by the open doors, his daughter stood on the steps with a blanket draped over her petite shoulders. Sheriff Stilinski pulled up to the crime scene and knitted his eyebrows at the sight. "Stay here." His father warned before exiting the vehicle.

"Paul, lets get this area locked up." The Sherrif advised one of the deputies. Stiles watched as James Garcia argued with one of the officers, a traumatised expression lay on his daughter's face.

Stiles felt his heart drop. He stared at someone who had a grin on her face every time he saw her and there was nothing but a ghost of that girl in front of him. Her eyes were puffy from crying and small droplets of blood trickled on her head. What the man said was inaudible, but Stiles was sure that there was a lawsuit pending.

"Oh, no way."

Sheriff Stilinski also glanced at the teenager. His brain flashed back to when he first met her, sappy and alone in an ice rink - asking for her mother. She was slouched in the same position and had the same look on her face. Broken and alone.

"You okay, kid?" he mumbled, allowing her father to speak to the deputy. She remained silent as he knelt before her. "The EMT said you hit your head pretty hard. We're trying to rule out a concussion."