Black Water ↠ Stiles Stilinski [Teen Wolf, Vol. One]

Tapetum Lucidum

Disclaimer: 'Teen Wolf' isn't mine. Shocking, right? But it's true. If there are any similarities in content or dialogue, it has probably originated with the show.

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Chapter 6 – Tapetum Lucidum

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Tapetum Lucidum. Spoken together, the two words sounded something like an elaborate, mangled sneeze. Or possibly a lesser known character from one of the earlier J.K. Rowlling books. Translating the phrase from its original Latin it technically meant 'bright tapestry', but that particular combination of words didn't mean anything to anybody. But, for the past few days, the phrase held a bizarre sort of significance in Charlie's life.

The tapetum lucidum was quite the remarkable piece of biology. It was a layer of tissue that existed inside of the eye, forming a ring around the retina. The basic function was to catch light, reflecting it within the eye to allow an animal to see in the black of night. Additional fun fact courtesy of the Discovery Channel—the tapetum lucidum also caused those animals' eyes to glow in the night. All those unearthly flashes in the brush you see as you drive home at night? Brought to you by the tapetum lucidum. Also provided by the tapetum lucidum? The inability to take flash photography of your pets. The raccoons that flipped over the trash cans, the neighbor's dog, her old cat Chairman Meow that used to pee on everything—every photo could come out with some sort of lens flare around the animals' eyes.

After Charlie trudged back up the stairs to her apartment—dropped off by Jackson's disturbingly polite and grateful mother—she had gone into Mel's closet and extracted one of the few boxes filled with her and her father's old life. Funny how little physical space it occupied. They were carefully wedged in like Mel had been playing a game of high stakes Tetris, filling the space that should have been occupied by tasteful heels. It took a little rooting around, but eventually she found the one with all the old photo albums. Charlie flipped through them until she settled on one in particular—one of the cheap ones with plastic coating—and thumbed her way through the pages until she came across a photo of her eight-year-old self holding the spectacularly fat Chairman Meow. Pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans, she held up the photos of the party to compare. Yup. The weird laser eyes on her cat were identical to those of Scott and Derek Hale.

There was just one problem. Humans didn't have a tapetum lucidum. So unless Scott and Derek were planning on transferring to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, something was off with this scenario.

Charlie leaned forwards, resting her forehead against the glass of the vending machine. The options inside sat within reach, colorful wrappers shimmering under the fluorescent lights, but cruelly separated by glass. Taunting her. Should she taste the rainbow? Were Funyuns truly fun? Maybe she could finally discover the wrong way to eat a Reese's. Surely there was at least one. Charlie had both the time and inclination to do so, but did she have the cash? Weighing the assorted coins she had fished out of the couch cushions in her hand, Charlie estimated she had a respectable $2.15 or so. Unfortunately, given the absurd inflation on vending machines these days, that would only afford her one snack plus some useless change.

For the second time in three days, Charlie found herself stuck in the hospital while various medical professionals—including Lydia if the number of medical journals the girl had read meant anything—waited for any word on Jackson's shoulder. As such, it was inevitable that she and the hospital vending machine had become fast friends. They had the same taste in food, which seemed a strong basis for any relationship. Sometimes Bob—she had decided to name him Bob—would even give her an additional candy bar free of charge, the generous soul that he was. But their relationship was threatened by one little quirk. Bob always had so much to offer, but Charlie wasn't always certain of what she wanted—chocolate, chips, those weird cheese crackers smeared with peanut butter, there were just too many choices. Too much pressure. So she shoved the coins in the machine, blindly punching buttons until she heard the whirring of the machine followed by the soft thunk of something hitting the bottom. Equal opportunity snacking.