Chloe | Stiles Stilinski [1]

9 | the incident

Stupidity would be the state I was in when I decided to have a walk in the park at 9 PM. It was because Lydia was begging me to go with her and Jackson to buy a movie and then go over to his house to watch it. I had lied and told her I was going to study. I did rummage through my books but boredom over took me and I sneaked out.

It was 9:30 when rain started to pour down and I groaned. I went to cross the street without noticing the car at full speed that was heading towards me. I stopped in the middle of the street looking like deer caught in headlights as the car skidded to a halt before it touched me. I let out a shaky breath before Stiles stumbled out of the passenger seat.

I furrowed my brows in confusion as Stiles stopped in front of me. "Chloe? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" Stiles asks, confused. "I was just walking home." I replied. "It's raining, come on, we'll give you a ride." The Sheriff said, looking at me from beside the driver's seat.

I went to object but stopped when Stiles added, "We have food."

And that was how I slipped inside the back seat before any could suppress a laugh. They both slipped inside and Stilinski started the car. "You're not supposed to drive that fast, Sheriff." I say, talking about how he almost ran me over.

"Look who's talking." They both reply and I scoff. "So, what did you guys get?" I ask, watching as Stiles rummages through the fast food bag. "Did they forget my curly fries?" Stilinski asks, looking sideways at his son. "You're not supposed to eat fries. Especially the curly ones." Stiles replies.

"I am carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries." Stilinski replies, glaring at his son.

"If you think getting rid of contractions in your sentences makes – "

"Stiles, just give him the curly fries." I sigh, rolling my eyes at their bickers.

Before Stiles could respond to what I said, the radio buzzes to life, grabbing all three of our attentions.

"Unit One, do you copy?" A voice speaks from the other side.

Both Stilinski and Stiles, father and son, reach for the CB at the same time, hands knocking into each other. Stilinski throws a look at his song before he grabs the CB.

"Force of habit." Stiles says weakly, looking away from his father's heated gaze.

"Unit One, copy." Stilinski speaks into the CB.

"Got a report of a possible 187." The dispatch said.

Stiles looks up while stuffing a handful of curly fries into his mouth, his face astonished as if he knows exactly what a 187 is.

I lean forward and whisper to him, "What's a 187?"

He replies quietly, "A murder."

The car suddenly lurched forward in an abnormal speed as the Sheriff stepped on the gas, probably hurried to get to the scene where a murder has happened. Stiles and I gripped on our seats for dear life as the Sheriff swerved down the streets.

After a few fast minutes, the car skidded to a halt in a video store's parking lot. I sat up straight and adjusted my profile as my eyes scanned the scene before me.