Uniquely Normal

Anchors

It was around 2 am in Beacon Hills. The town was quiet, other than the chirping of crickets and occasional howl. Stiles Stilinski lay asleep in his bed, the only light in his room coming from the bright moon in the sky. He tossed and turned in his bed, scrunching his face as he gripped the sheets below him.

"No, no, no, no..." he whispered. "Don't let them in."

His head jerked left and right as his body shifted.

"No, please, don't let them in..."
He repeated this phrase over and over again, but not loud enough for anyone to hear.

His eyes snapped open, and his arms lurched forward and made contact with metal. Stiles peered through the few slits of window above his head. Despite the fact that his mind was foggy with tiredness, he knew he was no longer in his room.

He felt confined, and once he identified his setting as inside a locker, he began to bang against the metal. The loud boom rang through the air as he pushed against the door harder. He banged against it several times, loud clanks of metal sounding around him. When he thought there was no getting out, the door burst open, and he fell through.

Once he was on his feet, and looked around at the setting he was in. It was the locker room at school, but it was dimly lit and contained an eerie silence. Stiles looked to his right to find his reflection looking back at him. He turned his body to face the mirror, which hung over a sink. Why was his at the school? He didn't remember coming here.

He left the locker room, entering the vacant and dark hallways. He walked slowly, keeping his movements and breathing as quiet as he could. He turned the corner, walking past many closed classroom doors until a specific door caught his eye. This door was exactly like the others except for one minor detail: it was open.

Stiles' steps slowed to a stop, the light shining through the windows hitting his face and lighting the path in front of him. He stood there for a moment, keeping his eyes trained on the open door in suspicion. He stepped forward, his movements slower than before, before he resumed his walking.

He arrived at the doorway, and peered into the dark classroom to find the window blinds all crooked, the desks toppled in a pile on top of each other. In the middle of the room was a large tree trunk, although it was cut down, a sleek and smooth surface on the top.

Dirt and leaves littered the ground as Stiles' stepped into the room, his eyes stuck on the trunk. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own as he continued to walk toward it. Soon, he was standing right beside it, looking down at the circular patterns on the surface. He reached his hand forward, stretching his fingers until his palm was completely revealed to the top of the truck.

He forced himself to lower his hand, and for a moment, his hand was only about an inch above the surface. He heard a low creak, but before he could process it, thick vines seemed to eject from the trunk and wrap around his hand, pulling it down.

Stiles sharply inhaled as his body jumped up, no longer in the school but back in his room. He felt his sheets below him as his eyes stared ahead at the bookshelf across the room.

"You okay?" a soft voice whispered beside him. [y/n] sat up and placed her hand on Stiles' arm. "Stiles?"

Stiles, despite his racing heart pounding against his ribs, felt himself begin to calm. He let out a loud sigh, registering that she was with him, so he must be safe.

"Yeah, I was just dreaming." He told her quietly.

Her hand trailed up and down his tense arm as she scooted closer to him. She placed her other hand on his bent knee, rubbing her thumb across the fabric of his pajamas.