Right Beside You | Stiles Stilinski | Two

2 - A Capable Threat

Time was passing in a blur again. Lydia's father was yelling about hospital security. Mrs. McCall had instructed Stiles to take me out of the bathroom and away from the scene. Mom and Natalie had arrived not long after that. Mom had hugged me, but when Natalie burst into tears, it had taken my mom's full attention to get her under control. I sat quietly on my chair, shivering in my soaked sweater, crying more tears and wiping them away with sleeves that were already saturated with water.

Stiles hadn't left my side. The only time he'd moved more than a few feet away was to make two phone calls—one to his father, and one to Scott. Then he'd planted himself in the seat next to me. He didn't bother trying to console me with weak platitudes. He just held my hand and promised me that help was on the way. That, at least, I could hope for.

It wasn't long before the police showed up. They were buzzing in and out of Lydia's room, canvasing the bathroom for clues, scanning the hallways for any sign of her. They had to interrogate all of us too. I recited the same answers over and over again. Lydia had woken up earlier that day. The doctors said she was fine. She'd refused my help in the shower. She'd screamed. She was gone. The only time I said anything else was when I spoke to Sheriff Stilinski.

"She...she sounded so scared," I whispered, digging my nails into my forearms.

The sheriff had rubbed my arm in a failed attempt to comfort me. He pulled a reluctant Stiles a few yards away, dragging him into a conversation with my mother. The three of them conversed in hushed voices while I stared blankly at the flecked tile floor. I started when my mom rested a hand on my shoulder, Stiles hovering awkwardly behind her.

"Sweetheart, Stiles is gonna drive you home." She wiped a thumb across my cheek, presumably wiping away more of my tears. "I know you're worried about Lydia, but you've been here for way too long. I promise Nat and I will call you as soon as we hear anything, okay?"

I just nodded, too tired to reply or protest. Mom sighed, pulling me into a tight hug and brushing my hair gently. I heard her whisper her gratitude to Stiles, who quietly replied that it wasn't any trouble. Then he grabbed my hand and coaxed me out of the building.

The night was freezing cold. I shivered, then instantly felt guilty. Lydia was running around in the woods, scared out of her mind by God knows what, and she didn't even have any clothes. Who was I to feel cold when my best friend was lost, wandering outside in the dead of winter?

Stiles pulled me over to the Jeep, tapping his hand madly against his legs. He opened the door for me and guided me into the backseat. He even rummaged in his bag and pulled out a sweatshirt for me, mumbling about my wet sweater. I accepted it with a meek nod, and continued to stare at his T-shirt as he lingered in front of me.

"Are...are we going home?"

My voice sounded broken and weak, like I was some four-year-old who'd scraped her knee at the park. It was pathetic.

"No," Stiles answered, fiddling with his car keys. "I called Scott, and he's gonna be here any minute. I have to go back inside, try and steal the hospital gown Lydia was wearing. Scott's gonna track her by scent. I just...just stay in the car, okay? Put on the sweatshirt, lock the doors, hide in the back, and...I'll be right back. Promise."

I nodded, barely moving my head.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Another nod.

There were a few seconds during which neither of us moved. I knew Stiles was watching me, but I couldn't bring myself to reciprocate. I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything.

"Hey..." He reached forward, pulling one of my hands from my lap and forcing me to meet his gaze. I looked up at him from under my lashes and he pursed his lips, trying to look confident. "We're gonna find her. Okay?"