Everything happened so fast.
Too fast.
Stiles was driving Cora home from school. He had lacrosse practise and Cora had taken on extra art classes, and since Stiles usually headed to the Hale house to see Derek anyway, it didn't exactly take him out of his way. Besides, despite the initial dislike and mistrust when his relationship with Derek began a few months back, Stiles and Cora had actually formed a good friendship, as much as you could with your boyfriend's sister anyway.
They were laughing and joking when it happened. The accident. Cora was telling him something that Isaac had said and Stiles turned the corner, heading downtown, and then he heard a car honking, the sharp sound pierced through the comfortable stillness outside the car doors.
Stiles' remembered turning and seeing the headlights, bright and overpowering and close, way too close, and he tightened his grip on the wheel, trying to turn and get out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough. The other car, it was too fast.
He heard Cora's scream a second before impact. Before the booming crash, before the scraping of metal against metal, before the squealing of tires, before his head was rocked sideways into his window and everything went dark.
When he woke up, there were lights - red and blue, flashing, blinding in for a second as his blurred vision tried to adjust. Police cars. They were police cars. Everything felt numb, lethargic, but when he lifted his head, stark pain made him wince. A face appeared at the window, a familiar face - his dad, he realised after a few seconds of concentration - and the worried voice told him to sit still.
"Sit still, alright son? We're going to get you both out of there-"
Both.
Get you both out of there.
Cora.
"Cora," Stiles croaked out. "Cora, dad, where's-where is she? Is she?" He tried to turn his head but the ache forced him to stop.
"She's still alive, still breathing. The fire department are getting her out first and then they're getting you, okay?" his father assured.
Later, Stiles would realise that needing the fire department to get you out after a car accident wasn't a good thing. He'd realise that it would mean that Cora was probably trapped, her arm or her leg. It most likely meant serious injury, but all he could think was thank god she was still alive.
And then he passed out again.
*
Stiles had a concussion, according to the doctor, and some whiplash, but he should be fine in a few days.
He wouldn't say how Cora was, no matter how many times Stiles asked.
"We're looking after her." That's all he said, with what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. It didn't. All it did was make his stomach tighten with worry and his head spin with all the possibilities of what could have happened to her. About how the car had hit on her side, how she could have broken her legs or her arms, her back, her neck. How she could be hanging on by a thread and that it was all his fault.
He should have looked where he was going. He should have checked. He should have reacted quicker. He should have something, done anything, to make sure they weren't in this situation.
What must the Hales be thinking right now? They'd already been through so much pain - losing Raleigh Hale to a heart attack last year, the fraud, Peter's fire, and now Cora. God, they must hate him for doing this. He would hate him.
John came to visit him when he got off shift, as Stiles insisted when his father showed up before that. He sat down heavily, concern and pain etched into every crease, still in full police gear.
