Whose Eyes Were Red? [s.m][3]

chapter 2

There was something strange going on, but he couldn't figure any of it out.

He tried to ignore the feeling, heading for his bag and pulling out the photo of him, Lydia, Malia and Stiles that had been taken that morning, pinning it on to his noticeboard so he didn't lose it.

As Scott left the room, his eyes missed the crumpled sheet of paper that was stuck to the board, a black marker scribbling unevenly across the page. A note from someone who would never hear the answer wrote to another who didn't understand the question.

A note from L.H to S.M.

//.//

Stiles yelled out in fear, throwing his hands up as he pressed his body back against the door of the only furnished room in all of the boy's house. They had been following a compass to try to figure out what had happened to Alex's parents. Liam and Hayden had discovered the boy in his car with so sign of his mother or father - almost as if they had disappeared straight from reality.

As the tall man raised his gun, he shot the bullet, narrowly missing Stiles. The teenager ducked, hearing more footsteps running towards him.

Stiles was panting heavily by the time Scott had ran up to him, with Liam and Mason hot on his heels. They could see that their friend was freaking out about something, but there had been nothing there when they arrived and they certainly had not passed anything nor anyone on their route to him.

"What? What happened?"

"He was here. He shot at me," Stiles explained quickly, running a hair through his hair frantically as he tried to calm down his breathing. "It was one of the guys you saw in Alex's memory." 

"The guy who took his parents?" Mason asked, excited that they were finally getting a trail on the whole disappearance. 

"No, no, no. They weren't just taken. They were, they were made to disappear. That's why there's no furniture, that's why they weren't in any of the photos!" Stiles caught on, beginning to talk louder and more confident as he started to form his theory. "They were erased."

Stiles turned, opening the door behind him frantically. Sure enough, all the furniture taht was previously in the room was now gone from sight - it had vanished into thin air just like Alex's parents had. The four teens looked around the room in confusion, not sure what was happening to their town.

//.//

"I keep feeling like it's familiar, you know? Like I've heard it before," Stiles' muttered to Lydia as they left the school, his head buried in the book he was flipping through.

"That's French. A lingering thought you can't reach," Lydia explained, repeating the french word for Stiles to listen to again.

"Okay, well, is there a French word for, feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency and impending doom?" Stiles deadpanned, throwing and waving his hands around as he tried to keep ahold of the book.

Lydia laughed slightly to herself, answering him in french. Stiles' head shot up, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as he shot to her in confusion once more. 

"It's French for Banshee," she smiled, smug at her small joke that she had made. They continued to wall through the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School, Stiles now ignoring the book that was residing in his hands.

"Okay, what, what does your Banshee intuition say this is?" Stiles asked, not in the mood to be having a joke around when there was lives in danger.

"That you don't have to figure it all out right this second!" Lydia almost snapped, trying to reason with the boy. It was late at night and this wasn't their job - they weren't the police.