The soft jingle of metal clinking against metal distracts Charlie from her mindless thoughts. She turns her head, swiveling to and from to take in every inch of her surroundings. When she got in her car moments prior, she had, had every intention of going home. Now, she's in the almost empty parking lot to the public pool. Her only company is a familiar strawberry blonde.
Lydia stares at Charlie with wide, frightened eyes. When she sees the blonde's confusion, her heart plummets. She had hoped Charlie would have answers. Answers to explain why she woke up screaming. Answers for why she ended up at the public pool when she had been going to the store.
"Where were you going?" Charlie asks as she approaches Lydia.
"The store. You?"
"Home," Charlie replies absently. Her gaze travels past Lydia to see something floating in the water near the pools edge. Something that looks frighteningly similar to a body. Lydia notices Charlie's distraction and turns to see the body, a gasp escaping her lips.
"What're you doing?" Lydia asks when Charlie starts to walk towards the pool.
"Seeing if it's real."
Lydia latches onto Charlie and the two girls take slow, forceful steps. Breathless pleas escape the teen's mouth, echoing Charlie's thoughts. Beacon Hills has witnessed enough death for one lifetime. Charlie kneels down by the edge and reaches out for the body. Lydia keeps a firm grip on Charlie to keep her from falling in. The two lean forward and Charlie flips the body over.
Breaths of relief escape by Lydia and Charlie. It's not a body. It's just a CPR dummy. A weight lifts off Charlie's shoulders and she slumps forwards, her hands landing in a puddle of thick, red blood.
"Oh my god," are the panicked, breathless words that pull Charlie's eyes up the trail of the blood and to the lifeguard stand where a very real, very dead body sits.
Charlie struggles to get away from the blood and the body, nearly knocking over a screaming Lydia who helps her to her feet. The two take several steps backwards, clutching onto each other for dear life. With the distance from the body, they begin to calm and their rational brains take over.
"I'm calling 911," Lydia says and digs out her phone. The device shakes in her hands as she dials.
Charlie nods, barely hearing the teen. Her eyes are focused on the boy's body. Most of his blood is on the outside. Even if she had gotten there sooner, he still wouldn't have survived. The thought didn't comfort her.
"I called Stiles, too," Lydia announces. She finally looks at Charlie. "You have blood all over your pants."
"What do you remember before arriving here?" Charlie asks, choosing to ignore Lydia's statement.
"I had fallen asleep and screamed myself awake. I left the house to get some Tylenol for a headache," Lydia says quickly.
"And you ended up here."
The sound of crunching gravel interrupts the conversation. A powder blue jeep pulls up behind Lydia's car, the driver barely stopping before jumping out. Stiles runs over to Charlie and Lydia, calling out their names.
"Are you two okay?" He asks, sliding to a standstill in front of them.
"We're okay," Charlie says as Lydia shakes her head.
"That, over there, not okay."
Stiles nods and grabs his phone. "All right. I'll call my dad."
"I already called 911," Lydia informs him and his eyes widen to the size of ludicrous golf balls.
"You called the police before you called me?"
