moving on» stilinski

Chapter One

o1 // cracked glass

I look out of the window of the police cruiser and I pull the jacket given to me closer to my body.

My teeth quietly chatter as I saw the driver of the car talk to a younger person, possibly about my age.

I struggle to see what they look like as my glasses' lens have shattered. I take them off and examine them. I sigh at the fact of how I'll have to get new ones.

I roll down the passenger window a little bit so I could make out what the two people were saying.

"And where's your usual partner in
crime?" I hear the driver say. Most of the other police officers and state troopers have now left the area leaving it to be just the driver and the boy my age (about).

As well as someone hidden in the shadows.

"Who? Scott?" The younger person asks. He rubs the nape of his neck as he carries on. "Scott's home. Said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school."

The older man raises his eyebrows in suspicion and calls out: "Scott? You out there?"

The person I can see in the shadows doesn't move. Scott. Yeah, Scott. He doesn't move. I can't see what they actually look like but I know someone is definitely there.

The driver grabs the younger one by his shirt. "All right, young man, I'm taking you back to your car and we're going to discuss a little something called 'Invasion of Privacy'."

I quickly roll up the window and pick at my nails nonchalantly as if I wasn't listening in on nearly the whole conversation.

After a few minutes the driver climbs into the car and introduces himself as deputy Stilinski. Stilinski drove me to the station, readying me for questioning.

~

"First question. What's your name?" An officer asks me with a pen and pad of paper in hand.

I look in the mirror opposite, a one way mirror to be exact. I see mud covering my skin and branches in my brunette hair. I gingerly pull it out and tell him my name.

Except when I open my mouth to tell him, no sound comes out.

I keep trying, opening my mouth and closing it repeatedly in confusion causing me to look like a goldfish.

I can't speak. I have no voice!

I do know my name but I can't tell the officer and he isn't even looking to see me struggling to tell him!

He waits for me to tell him, just staring at the piece of paper instead of me.

My name is Nora Adams.

He sighs and asks another question: "what year is it?"

2011.

He scribbles something down and drawls out a few more questions, all physically unanswered as I still have to ability to voice my opinions.

He turns the page of a notebook for more space to write and snatch the pen and pad off him.

I write down all the answers then finally write: 'I can't speak'.

"It's okay to speak, everything here is classified and no one else will know you were here." He says kindly whilst awkwardly patting my hand to comfort me.

I write another thing down: 'no not can't speak as in someone will kill me I mean I can't speak as in I HAVE NO ABILITY TO SPEAK. No sound will come no matter how hard I try.'

I huff as he raises his eyebrows when he reads my message. He leaves the interrogation room as I sit there looking at my reflection.

I can see my bushy brown hair reaching to about midway down my chest, my eyebrows showing that they are in dire need of a good pluck. I see my eyes are dark from smudged eyeliner and thin nose. I couldn't be overly sure of any specific details due to the fact my broken glasses had been take off me to be mended, and I didn't have any of my contacts with me.

I reach up to my face, I hated being without my sight. Without them, the surroundings just looked like an out of focus camera. At times, the surroundings sometimes look like a bad, pixelated video game.

The officer enters the room in and I write on the paper again.

'When can I go home?'

"We've got to run some tests on you but you can go home tomorrow at the latest." He gives me a soft smile as he led me out of the interrogation room.