It was cold. Really cold. But I knew Jackson was out here. He wouldn't have lead me on to think that his beckoning meant nothing. The football field's turf was flat, easy for me to walk on with my heels.
I shook, crossing my arms over my chest, rubbing my arms from the cold. And suddenly, with a loud bang, the lights on the field were turning on, one by one.
"Jackson?" I yell, waiting for him to respond. "Jackson, are you here?"
No response.
"Jackson, don't play games with me," I say. A tall, buff body outline comes walking out from the locker room doors near the bleachers.
"Jackson?"
The outline starting running towards me, and I began to smile from ear to ear. He wants me back. I shot out a little giggle in joy. I take a step forward, and then I stop.
Wait.
That's not Jackson. His hair is so much longer. Who is that?
And then a voice, a Stiles, yelled out, crying to me. "Lydia, run!"
I ran. I ran towards Stiles as fast as I could. But wait. Stiles began running towards me. What was going on?
I stopped. "No, Lydia!" Stiles shouted, and started running faster.
I looked back, and there he was. The outline flashing before my eyes. One split second and I was down. Down on the hard turf.
"Lydia!" was the last cry I heard from Stiles voice. And it just kept echoing in my head. Over and over, until everything went black.
