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

Rabbit, Run

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.

Okay! I actually wrote a chapter I'm almost satisfied with? And isn't causing me a ton of angst to publish? Is this real life?

Also, I have made a completely ridiculous, foolish decision. After freaking years of Willa Holland, I have found a face claim that I believe better suits the Charlie in my brain. Her name is Hannah Marks, and she played Amanda Brotzman on BBC America's Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. Feel free to continue to think of Willa as Charlie if you're so inclined - I don't want to impose my image of Charlie on anybody - but in my head her face is that of Hannah Marks. I might attempt a few edits featuring her. They will invariable suck as I have literally never used photoshop before.

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Chapter 26 - Rabbit, Run

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The version of the Beacon Hills High School Charlie stood before was identical to the one at the last closing bell. Or at least it seemed to be at first glance. As she trudged through a nearly empty parking lot, towards the looming double doors, the faint yellow of the early morning sun illuminated some faults in the design. The police cruiser parked at the far corner of the lot. The torn remnants of yellow caution tape still sticking to bike racks and door handles. A small chunk of metal painted a suspiciously familiar shade of robin's egg blue. Bits of their debris decorated the school's exterior like crumpled beer cans missed during the cleanup after a particularly intense party.

Charlie's toes stopped inches away from the school's main doorway. Above the handle sat a patch of paint a brighter blue than the rest. Dirt and grime had yet to touch it, but upon close inspection it was marred by five pointed grooves. She had met the claws that caused them. With a breath she grasped the handle, fingers brushing the new paint. It was soft and tacky to the touch. When she shoved the door open, she knew the hallways behind it would be deserted. Not many people self-imposed a Monday 7:00 am call time. But before 'back to school' could be synonymous with 'back to normal', she had to know what lay behind them. Dark shadows, eerie howls, and a serial killer? Swirling blue fireflies and an M.C. Escher nightmare infinity loop? Probably not. But she had to be sure.

It was amazing what a little daylight could do for a place's aesthetic. Lockers stood tall. Checkered laminate tiles stretched forwards like the most dull of runways. Sunshine and fluorescents mixed in their glow. Basic. Average. But a quick tour introduced other lasting indicators of their night of wacky fun. Charlie stared at the pristine, bleached circle on the floor in front of boys' locker room for what felt like hours. Still, though, the fundamentals remained the same. This was high school. And high school came with one inevitability: gossip.

Charlie was no stranger to being an object of discussion. Given her status as perpetual 'new girl', other people's curiosity became a hazard of her existence. But soon they met her, the mystery would fade, and the student body would collectively move on. This time, though, their interest likely wouldn't be so quick to dissipate. She couldn't blame them for it. None of her previous escapades had involved murder. Six kids being chased around by a madman in the dark of night? That was some Halloween movie marathon bullshit. At the very least her name wasn't attached to the drama. Charlie had no interest in becoming a local D-list celebrity.

Slowly, students began to trickle through the doors. Charlie leaned against the lockers, pulling her green, zip-up hoodie in tighter around her and ignoring the cold of metal nipping at her uncovered legs. Her classmates marched to their lockers, eyes sliding past her without a second thought. As suspected, the halls were awash with whispers. Charlie did her level best to ignore them, but this proved difficult as Meredith Edwards—the school's resident walking, talking tabloid—had a locker two over from where she stood.