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( XVIII. FOR AMELIE )
A PART OF AMELIE'S NIGHT ROUTINE ( definitely pre-supernatural ), was to make a plate of spaghetti and steal some wine from her mom's stash, and watch a bunch of youtube videos. Now, that wasn't the case. Now? She was searching the web for another in the lines of Anchor, Oni and Nogitsune.
Just as she was searching a few sites, hoping that she was somewhat close to her answers, a deafening scream, calling her name, pierced her ears. Lilac eyes now covered her features, as white noise echoed in her mind.
Claudia.
Grabbing the nearest hoodie she could find, she slipped into her fluffy slippers and headed out the door to Stiles' house. She didn't care if his dad thought she was intruder— she would knock down the door if she had to.
"Claudia!" Amelie gasped as soon as she reached Stiles' room.
"Stiles—" Claudia gasped for her breath. "He left."
"Left? Where did he go?"
"He was— He wasn't himself, Amelie, I can't explain it. It's like he was this ragged doll, and somebody was guiding him to his car."
"Okay, it's okay. I'll call him," Amelie nodded, trying to comfort the mother but didn't know how. Hastily, she grabbed her phone, pressing to dial Stiles.
"Amelie?" A whisper came through the phone.
"Stiles, are you okay?" The girl said worriedly, getting wide eyes from Claudia. "Where are you?"
"I— Amelie," Stiles repeated her name.
"Yeah? I'm right here."
"I don't know where I am," he sniffled, his voice cracking.
Silence blanketed them. "Can— Can you tell me what you see, then?"
"I can't see much," He said. "But my leg is caught on— on something, and it's bleeding. And something smells awful— I can't breathe."
"Stiles—"
"I have to hang up, my phone— my phone's gonna die."
"Wait!"
Suddenly, the door barged open behind her, revealing Lydia and Aiden, who had the same confused and worried looks as her.
"How did you—?" Aiden asked confusedly.
"His mom," She said simply, pointing to the ghost behind her that they couldn't see. Receiving wide eyes from both of them, she sent them a sickly sweet smile, before turning around to face what she hadn't noticed this whole time— a scissor stabbed into the bed, with red strings tied from it to pictures on the wall.
