𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍, 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

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(  𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓  )

Stiles stormed into the mechanics garage as soon as he heard the whir of a machine start. "Hey! Hey? Wh - what do you think you're doing? All I needed was a starter." He ducked under the platform which held his beloved jeep so he could see what the young mechanic was up to.

The mechanic shrugged, not sparing Stiles a glance, "Yeah, but it looks like your whole exhaust system has got to be replaced here."

Stiles gaped at him, open mouthed. "Why do I get the feeling you're slightly over-estimating the damage?"

The mechanic shrugged again, "It's probably gonna run you around like twelve hundred parts and labor."

Stiles squinted his eyes, "Are you kidding? This thing doesn't have a catalytic converter-" he threw his arms around and put on an exceptionally goofy voice, "And yes, I know what a catalytic converter is."

The mechanic turned to him, unamused, "Do you know what a limited slip differential is?"

Stiles was stunned into silence for a few seconds before sighing, "No-"

The mechanic turned back to the Jeep, "Yeah, coming on more like fifteen hundred."

Stiles sighed, "Okay. Just finish." He ducked back under the ramp and headed towards the waiting room where he could see the mechanic, "I'll be back here, seething with impotent rage!" He muttered under his breath.

Stiles grasped the door handle, but his hand promptly fell off. It was covered in a clear goo of sorts and it only frustrated Stiles more, "Oh. Nice. It's real sanitary-" he whispered, "Quality establishment you're running here." He called out to the mechanic.

He entered the waiting room and wiped the mysterious goo all over his hoody sleeve. As he proceeded to walk over to the window, Stiles spotted an old photo of the mechanic in Beacon Hills Lacrosse uniform. Stiles scoffed, "Figures."

He headed over to the viewing over with his phone in his hand. He was just about to start tapping the screen when his fingers started locking together, making it impossible for him to move them. His hands started shaking from the pressure of trying to move but it was useless. His phone fell out of his grasp as the rest of his hand and his forearms also began to freeze up.

Confusion evident in his face, Stiles looked out the window of the waiting room to see a mysterious creature on top of his jeep heading towards the mechanic. Stiles could onLy mumbled out certain things as more of his body began to lock. "No. Hey. Hey! Hey! Uh."

He watched as the creatures tail came behind the mechanics neck, slitting it carefully. Stiles' legs then locked and he fell to the floor, shaking. He used his stiff fingers crawl himself along the floor to his phone and see what was happening. He noticed the mechanic on the floor in the workshop as well, in a similar position.

The mechanic was laid in his back when the creature cut open a tube that began to lower the ramp with his jeep on. The mechanic called out to him while stiles tried his best to call for help, "Help me. Help me. Help! Help - Help me. Help me. Help me."

Stiles was shaking worse and worse, sweating profusely. He closed his eyes so he wasn't scarred of the image of the mechanic being crushed by metal. When the teenage boy reopened his eyes, he jumped back in shock- as far as he could go. The creature was right I front of him, with only a glass panel of the door separating them. The lizard like animal hissed at him before running off.

Stiles' phone then began to ring, "911, what's your emergency?"

* * *

Stiles sat in the back of an ambulance with his father, turning his right hand over, checking for any signs it might freeze up again, "I told you, I just - I walked in and I saw the jeep on top of the guy, that's all."

Sheriff noticed the fascination with his hand, "What's wrong with your hand?"

Stiles shook it vigorously, "Nothing. Can I just get out of here now?"

Sheriff stared at him, "Look, if there's something you don't think you can tell me-"

Stiles scoffed, "You think I'm lying?"

Sheriff shook his head, "No, of course not. I'm just worried about you. Now, if you saw someone do this, if you're afraid that maybe they're gonna come back and make sure you don't say anything about it-"

The buzz-cutted boy sighed heavily, "I didn't see anything. At all. Can I go now please?"

Sheriff stared at his stubborn son before nodding, "Sure. But not in your jeep. We're gonna have to impound it. Sorry kid, evidence. I'll see you at home."

Stiles sighed, "All right, well, at least make sure they wash it."

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Stiles did a slight jog over to Scott's car as waited for him since his Jeep had been taken. He opened the door and sat down, closing it again as he adjusted himself.

Scott looked at him with worry, "You okay?"

Stiles sighed lonely before nodding, "Yeah. You were right. It's not like you. I mean, its eyes were almost like, reptilian. But there was something about them."

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?"

Stiles kept his eyes on the outside of the car through the windshield. "You know when you see, like, a friend in a Halloween mask, but all you can actually see are their eyes and you feel like you know 'em but you just can't figure out who it is?"

"Are you saying you know who it is?"

"No." Stiles finally turned to look at Scott, "But I think it knew me."

* * *

Natalie Martin rapped gently on the bedroom door to her daughters room before entering upon no response. "Time to get up," she sighed when the covers where still, pulled over Lydia's head.

Lydia groaned from lack of sleep and mumbled a little "Go away."

Mrs. Martin rolled her eyes and made her way to Lydia's side of the bed. "You're going to be late for your appointment with the school counselor. Remember, we have a deal."

Lydia groaned loudly again, all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. "Remember, I told you I was fine. Why do I have to go but Elle doesn't?"

Mrs. Martin scoffed as she began to pull back the covers, "Isabelle managed to persuade her mother to not go. Now, Lydia please-" she let out a shrill scream when the covers were covered in blood. Lydia opened her eyes slowly, annoyed at the screaming which she currently found unnecessary.

When the strawberry blonde was fully adjusted to the world, she glanced down at the covers and scooted back in surprise, seeing all the blood on the sheets, her hands and legs. "What did you do? Oh, my God, what did you do to yourself? Lydia, sweetheart. Why did you do that? Lydia."

Mrs. Martin began fussing over her while Lydia forced back tears and stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror opposite her bed. There was blood in the centre. Like it had been punched.

But why would she have done that? She was losing the plot.