Falling For You | Stydia in Reverse

Chapter Six

I pace back and forth nervously as I wait for Stiles arrival, a little too aware of the creaking sound that is occurring underneath my feet every time I take a step. After what feels like forever, but in reality is probably only about ten minutes, the headlights of Stiles blue jeep pour light into the basement through the small windows, illuminating the room and somehow making it appear even creepier than before. I stick my head out of the window and wave Stiles over towards where I am, squinting in the dark to see his slim build run to the front door. I hear him a few moments later, his steps rushed as he stumbles down to me.

"Is everything okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Stiles looks at me intently, the words spilling out of his mouth as he struggles to regain a normal breathing pace.

"I'm fine, did you bring," my train of thought comes to a sudden halt as I look down at what is clenched in Stiles hand. Yes, he has brought the crowbar I asked of him, but he also has a wooden baseball bat in the other hand. "You bought a bat?" I can't refrain myself from asking.

"Yeah, well I didn't know what kind of situation we were in. Thought I might have needed to kick some bad guy's ass." He demonstrates this by kicking his leg out slightly, as if warding off some invisible predator.

"Stiles, I don't need you to do that. All I need you to do is open up that refrigerator."

"Why?"

"There's someone inside."

"Inside the refrigerator, you're kidding." Stiles walks over to the metal box cautiously, and as he attempts to lift up the refrigerator door the boy inside thrashes around again. "Oh my God," Stiles says in disbelief. "Okay, you call my Dad." He passes his phone to me. "I'll break him out."

I scroll through Stiles' contacts until I find the one labeled 'Dad,' and as I dial his number I feel a sudden sense of stupidity wash over me. Of course Stiles' Dad was the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, someone who could have easily taken control of this situation. Even though it seems selfish, I suddenly feel humiliated as I realize Stiles must be wondering why I chose to call him. My thoughts are interrupted though as Sheriff Stilinski answers the phone and I explain the situation to him. In a strained voice he tells us to leave the boy alone and to leave the house until he arrives. I agree and hang up.

CLINK. I look over to see Stiles has cut through the rustic metal chains with his crow bar. "Stiles, your Dad says we should get out, he'll be here in a few minutes," I say, suddenly feeling an onset of worry.

"We can't just leave him here," Stiles pulls on the refrigerator door. "Can you give us a hand?" I sigh and roll my eyes as I hurry over to the fridge, wanting to leave the basement as soon as possible. My nails dig into the side of the door as we both pull until the door snaps back. Stiles and I peer inside as a dark blonde haired, blue eyed boy stares up at us. Without question, Stiles reaches his arm out to help the boy, who quickly steps up out of the contraption, but is unsteady on his feet after being cramped in the refrigerator and due to the wound on his head, which is bleeding heavily. He leans heavily on Stiles and I, and as we begin aiding him up the steps, we hear footsteps coming towards us from upstairs. Stiles looks as though he's about to call out to the anonymous person, and I have to lean over and put my hand across his mouth, whispering "shh" for him to be quiet.

"What, it could be my Dad," he says after I remove my hand.

"Isaac?" A gruff voice calls out.

"That's my Father," the wounded boy who's leaning on us replies, and by the frozen terror spread across his face we can tell that this man won't be happy with us intruding in his house.

We scurry back down the stairs, basically dragging Isaac over to hide behind a large, rotting wooden chest in the far left corner of the room. We keep our heads low as Stiles' body presses into mine, partly because we are trapped in a tight corner, and I can't help but thinking partially because he is trying to protect me. Isaac's Dad stumbles down the stairs, his feet bashing heavily as he reaches the basement floor. "Isaac, where are you?" He asks in an angry voice. The man begins looking around the corner where the refrigerator is suspiciously.

"Is there anyway out?" I ask Isaac, keeping my voice as quiet as possible.

"No," he says groggily, his head titled back against the wooden box and his eyelids fluttering closed. "He's going to find us," Isaac continues after a moment's pause.

"Can you please try and be helpful," Stiles snaps, the nervousness clearly evident in his voice.

"I think he has a concussion," I reply defensively, gently brushing away Isaac's hair to reveal the area in which the source of the blood is flowing from. I place a hand on his forehead carefully, feeling his cold, clammy skin press against mine. "We've got to get him out of here," I utter desperately. "Where's your bat?" I ask, looking around for the weapon. Stiles taps me on the shoulder and points to the bat, which lies about five meters away, completely in the open. As we spot Isaac's Father getting closer to where we are hid, Stiles whispers "I'm going to create a distraction, get him out of here, okay?"

"No, Stiles, that's not what I meant," I call out, but by the time I've finished my sentence Stiles has dashed out from his hiding spot, lunging for the bat.

Before Stiles can reach the bat Isaac's father has noticed him, and as he shouts he rushes over towards Stiles and with a closed fist, bashes him across the face. "Stiles!" I can't help but scream as he falls to the ground hard. His assailant looks over to where a now passed out Isaac and I lay, and with a sinister look in his eyes, begins to stomp towards us.

"You think you can just walk into my house and get away with it?" He screams, his voice as harsh as his facial expressions. Stiles shuffles up onto his feet and tackles Isaac's father to the ground, startling the man for only a moment, as he quickly pins Stiles beneath him and strikes Stiles several times. I look around desperately for the bat, and instead notice the crow bar is only a meter away. I rush over and pick up the crow bar, holding it high above my head before bringing it down on the back of Isaac's father's skull.

The noise is beyond terrible, like the sound of leaves being compressed underneath the weight of someone's foot has been amplified a thousand times. His reaction is weird. The man remains frozen for a second, as if not sure how to respond, before his head slumps down, followed by the rest of his body until he is a bloody mess lying on the floor. I struggle but finally pull Stiles to his feet, before we hear the sound of feet running down the basement steps. "This is the police, everybody freeze!" It's Sheriff Stilinski, who has his gun outstretched in front of him, although he quickly lowers it when he sees Isaac's dad's body on the floor. "Are you alright?" He asks, running over to his son and expecting his bloodied and bruised face.

"Yeah, I'm fine Dad," Stiles replies, looking almost embarrassed. "Lydia saved me," he looks over at me with such gratitude, smiling even though his cut lip would undoubtedly be causing him great pain. Sherriff Stilinski looks from me to Stiles, smiling slightly in an attempt to calm us both down. "You two make a pretty good team then."