fade #2 (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 8

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF. Only Melanie and her plot lines.

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Thirty minutes to an hour had passed since we had made the new discovery. Scott, Stiles, and I all huddled together in an eager manner. Isaac getting questioned by the police a few yards ahead. Unfortunately out of earshot, for Stiles and I that is. Scott was capable of much more.

"What are they saying?" I pressed with urgency, yanking mindlessly on the Orange Mets hoodie I was attired in.

"Isaacs father is dead." Scott frowned, "they think it was murder."

My breath noticeably hitched. When I had heard screaming the previous night, that must have been the source. Not to mention that Isaac merely lives down the street from me, and someone was obviously yelling for their father. This entire situation is beginning to add up and I wasn't sure how I felt about the situation.

I wearily glanced over at the two curious boys, a simple frown cascading about my features. Releasing Stiles' palm, I mindlessly raced my fingertips throughout my tousled hair.

"I remember that," I murmured somewhat incoherently, yet the teenage boys beside me still managed to make out my jumbled worlds.

"What?" They spoke in perfect sync, turning to face me, each withholding a stern expression.

"Yeah- I heard someone screaming. So, I went outside-"

"You went outside?" Stiles' eyes widened quite immensely. "Why the heck would you go outside? That's how you die in horror movies!"

Narrowing my eyes, I scoffed, "I wasn't going to let someone die, Stiles."

Scott sighed, "What else happened?"

"Someone screamed Dad. And, Isaac just lives down the street from me. I couldn't find where they were, but I'm pretty sure they drove off somehow."

"How do you know?" Pressed the werewolf.

"Because I was standing in the middle of the street and some insane driver almost hit me. Someone was trying to get somewhere. And really quick."

Stiles eyes had come to the point of saucers. "You almost got hit by a car?"

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't smart standing in the middle of the street." I almost laughed. Although there was nothing even remotely humorous about the horrid situation.

"Thank god you're okay." He murmured, squeezing my hand with a firm grip as well as handing me a sympathetic frown, "Are they saying Isaac's a suspect?"

"A suspect for killing his own father?" My mouth dramatically hung agape.

He shrugged, "They have to take everything into account. So are they?"

"I don't know, why?"

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty four hours."

I exhaled with a shaky breath, "On the full moon?"

"Stiles, how good are those holding cells at holding people?" Scott asked.