willow | d. hale [on hold]

1 | willow

alright. but one of you has to cover my eyes if we actually do see the body.

[ episode 1.01 ]

The Worthington estate, which sat just at the edge of the Beacon Hills preserve, was silent.

Warren Worthington was away, working a late shift at the hospital serving as the on-call surgeon for the night. When not taking a shift in the emergency room, he was the most successful — and busiest — neurosurgeon in Beacon County. The only other resident — other than a cat named Scribbles — of the house was his teenage daughter, Willow Worthington.

The girl that was sitting on the back patio, flipping through a book, was the dictionary definition of a perfect child. Willow got straight A's, had record-breaking times on the cross-country team, and was the head cheerleader. There wasn't a mean bone in the girl's body, who could always be seen with a smile on her face and befriending most everyone in the halls of Beacon Hills High. Lydia Martin may have ruled the school with fear, but Willow Worthington ruled it with her heart.

School was meant to start back the next morning after a month off for winter break, and Willow knew she should be asleep, but a boy in her class, Isaac Lahey, lent her his copy of The Three-Body Problem — a book about aliens that he had recommended. It had quite a surprising twist near the end, and Willow was having trouble putting it down.

It was cold outside, but the lounge with overstuffed cushions was Willow's favorite place to read, so she was bundled up in Jackson Whittemore's old lacrosse sweatshirt from the year before and a scarf that Danny Mahealani's grandmother had knitted. There was also a small fire that she started in their fire pit, which would burn out fairly soon.

Willow's concentration from the book was broken by a sudden sound. At first, she thought it was a page turning, but then realized she hadn't turned any pages. She heard the sound again, this time louder, and identified it as someone dragging their feet through fallen leaves. Knowing that her father wasn't meant to be home for another five hours, she sat up straight and put her book to the side, worried that there was some kind of trespasser. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hand, ready to call Stiles' father, the sheriff.

Whatever caused the disturbance did it again, followed by a thumping sound, like someone had fallen over, and a low, pained groan came after. Willow's eyes scanned the backyard that disappeared into the thick forest. She almost missed it, but the firelight flickered across pale skin — a person.

Willow was frozen, her eyes glued to the slumped-over figure. Though he was half a lacrosse field away, she was pretty sure he wasn't wearing any clothes. She made the assumption that he was either drunk out of his mind or injured, and given that it was nearly freezing outside, her more compassionate side won out over her slight fear.

She rushed into her house and grabbed a first aid kit out of the bottom floor bathroom, also stopping by the laundry room to grab a pair of sweatpants that belonged to her father. He wouldn't miss them as long as they weren't a designer brand. Then Willow ran back outside, where the person was still collapsed.