Apprehension ➵ Allison Argent (6)

Twenty-Four

Allison's POV:

"The number you have reached is not in service. Please check the number or try your call again. This is a recording."

I sadly end the call, redialing my father's number once more and pressing it against my ear.

"We're sorry, the number you have reached is not in service. Please check the number or try your call again."

Phoebe takes a seat next to me on Scott's couch with a solemn expression. "Your dad's not answering too, huh?" She softly asked and I simply shook my head, clicking the redial button. "Melissa, Elizabeth, everyone else in Beacon Hills...they're all gone, but they're still alive."

"We're sorry, the number you have reached is not in service. Please check the number or try your call again."

Phoebe delicately takes the phone from my hands and hangs up the call with a solemn look. "I doubt Olivia would want us to sulk, right?" She whispered and I nod.

"What do we do now?" Liam numbly asked from where he sat on the kitchen counter.

"We can't hide from them." Malia muttered, moving her hand off of Scott who stopped making phone calls as well.

"Well, what about Lydia?" Phoebe suggested, grabbing onto my arm to pull me to stand up from the couch and walk to the dining room where the others sat. "The Ghost Rider was afraid of her. Maybe that's our last hope?"

"It wasn't fear." Lydia answered, stepping away from the window to sit down in front of the table. "It's...almost like reverence.

"Doesn't matter." Scott weakly spoke up. "The rift is gone. We're the only ones left in Beacon Hills."

I fiddle with the bracelets in my hands, my heart clenching in remembrance of the smallest hope I had of reuniting with her again.

I still don't have the slightest clue of what she looks like.

The back door creaked open, causing me to look away from the bracelets and see Sheriff Stilinski enter the room.

"Sheriff?" I ask with slight surprise.

He nods his head with a small smile. "I have a son." He suddenly spoke, causing my eyes to widen. "His name is Mieczysław Stilinski...but we call him Stiles. I remember."

I glance at Lydia, seeing her expression turn to a relieved smile.

"When Stiles was a little kid, he couldn't say his first name. Not sure why, it pretty much rolls off the tongue..." He softly chuckles, recalling the memory. "But, uh, the closest he could get was 'mischief.' His mother called him that until..." He takes a deep breath. "I remember when, uh...when Stiles first got his Jeep. It belonged to his mother. She wanted him to have it. The first time when he took a spin behind the wheel, he went straight into a ditch."

I start to smile, imagining the scenario of a panicked boy trying to push a jeep back into the road.

"I gave him his first roll of duct tape that day. He was always getting into trouble, but he always had a good heart--always." He emphasized, making sure to meet each of our eyes. "We're here tonight because my goofball son decided to drag Scott, his greatest friend in the world, into the woods to see a dead body."

A tear trickles from Scott's eye. "H-How did you remember?"

Sheriff Stilinski glances over to Lydia. "It started with Stiles' jersey. Then I found the red string for his crime board. Finally, his whole room came back, and all the memories. And then the strangest thing happened..."