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𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 chapter nineteen
The red and blue lights of the ambulance sliced through the darkness, casting eerie shadows among the trees. The rhythmic pulsing of the lights seemed to pulse like a heartbeat, echoing the tension in the air. From the depths of the woods, a pair of eyes moved cautiously, the figure slowly drawn toward the chaotic scene unfolding in the clearing. Each step was shaky, a whisper of movement that barely disturbed the underbrush.
As the figure approached, the silhouette of the ambulance came into focus—its doors swinging open to reveal the driver and several deputies, including Sheriff Stilinski and his son, Stiles. They were gathered near the bloodied interior, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion as they tried to piece together the horrifying events of the night. The scene was chaotic, filled with urgency and anxiety, but all that noise felt distant to the watcher in the woods.
Suddenly, a pale, dirty hand emerged from the shadows, gripping a low-hanging branch and pulling it aside. The figure moved cautiously, drawn by an instinctive need to see what was happening, but it wasn't until Stiles spoke that she realized she was being watched.
"Lydia?" Stiles called out, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife, but it sounded faint, as if the air had thickened between them. The name echoed softly in the quiet, the sound wrapping around her like a familiar blanket. With that call, a flicker of recognition ignited in the girl's chest, jolting her into awareness.
"Lydia?" Stiles repeated, stepping closer, his eyes wide with surprise and worry. She blinked, disoriented, her arms instinctively pulling tighter around herself, the leaves and branches barely concealing her lower half. Confusion clouded her thoughts as she looked at the gathering of familiar faces—Sheriff Stilinski, the deputies, and the wide-eyed Stiles, all staring back at her with a mix of relief and disbelief.
Lydia's brow furrowed, her frustration bubbling to the surface as she took in their expressions. The silence stretched awkwardly, each second weighing heavily in the air. Finally, unable to contain her irritation any longer, she threw her arms up in exasperation, exposing her vulnerability to the world.
"Well? Anyone going to get me a coat?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with sarcasm, cutting through the tension with a sharp edge.
Stiles, grappling with a wave of relief and concern, instinctively reached for his father's jacket, his knees almost buckling beneath him as he processed the surreal moment. The realization of Lydia's presence brought a flood of emotions crashing over him—relief that she was alive, frustration that she had been left alone in the woods, and an overwhelming urge to protect her. But before he could voice his thoughts or even offer her the jacket, the weight of it all became too much. Stiles collapsed out of frame, the world spinning around him as everything he had fought for seemed to hinge on this fragile moment.
