girl almighty // s. stilinski [1]

empathy

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"What happened?"

Bea heaves out a sigh as the Sheriff comes into her bedroom, observing her body with frantic eyes as he tries to detect any injuries as she lies on her bed, her physics textbook in her lap.

"I'm fine, Noah. Really. I just had a panic attack, and I couldn't control it. I'm fine, now, though. I promise," Bea explains, lying straight through her teeth as she avoids the man's eyes.

"You know, lying to a police officer is a crime." Bea rolls her eyes at his remark, earning a tired sigh from the older man. "It didn't sound like you were fine from Stiles' phone call," Noah mumbles, walking further into her bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

The girl looks up at her foster father, her brows creased in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"He was talking really fast and kept running out of breath. He sounded like he was on the verge of a panic attack, himself. It was crazy. I don't—I don't think I've seen him like that in a long time; not since his mother died."

A chill sneaks its way down Bea's spine at the mention of the deceased woman. The two Stilinski men never talk about their lost loved one. Bea does not know much about the woman who used to live between these walls.

"Well, I'm just glad you're okay," the Sheriff continues, trying to ease the tension he had created in the room. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

She sends him a small smile, nodding her head in response. "I'll try. I make no promises, though," Bea mutters, shutting her textbook with a thud.

"You'll be fine. Goodnight, Bea. I have to get back to the station. We're trying real hard to get this case solved. It's just been really hectic."

"I understand, Noah. Good luck."

"You, too."

The man leaves the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him. Bea breathes out through her teeth, letting her head fall back on her pillow. She really isn't fine, and she hates lying to the man who is generously providing her shelter and food. However, she refuses to let him worry about her when he has a whole town to worry about.

She will be fine. At least, that is what she keeps telling herself.

Another knock against her door disrupts the silence that had settled over her room, pulling her attention away from the blank ceiling to the paneled wood. She sighs as she calls, "Come in."

It is a surprise when the door is opened to reveal Stiles, his hands awkwardly shoved into the front of his pockets. The redhead smirks slightly at his obvious discomfort, sitting up against her headboard.