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ADRIAN AWOKE TO COLD STONE PRESSING AGAINST HIS SQUISHED CHEEK. His eyes blinked open and closed a few times, getting the chills as he struggled to regain his footing. When up, he released a shaky breath and rubbed his arms. It was a cold, chilly night.
Adrian couldn't recall the moment of ever leaving Stiles' home, especially after the moment the two had shared probably not too long ago. Yet, he could still feel the cold pavement against his bare feet, and the nipping of the night air.
Where am I? Adrian thought, looking around with an expression of a lost puppy. He walked backwards, trying to take in as much as he could as a clue for where he was.
"Stiles?" Adrian called out, hearing the name roll off his tongue and echo through the empty night. Nothing seemed to even move for a moment, until a rustling came closer . . . and closer.
The Martin's first thought was to defend himself, but with what? He had nothing useful to his disposal. And with whatever lurks being right around the corner, he had little to no time.
The redhead spun round at the snap of a twig, fists raised as he glared at whoever was there. It was a lady. It was the samd lady from the school car park Adrian had seen when Stiles got Scott beaten up for the truck incident.
She said nothing to him. And, for awhile, that's all the pair did; until Adrian opted to speak. "Um, hello. I'm lost. Where am I?" It wasn't his best attempt at a conversation, but it was all his simple mind could conjure at the time.
The lady didn't reply. She blinked a few times before walking past Adrian and to somewhere else. This sparked Adrian as curious, his feet following the lady. "Hey! Where are you going?"
Another one of his questions went ignored as the frail lady raised her shaky wrinkly hands to push open a metal gate. Adrian cringed at its screeching; sounding ten times worse at night as he followed through.
There was a sign sticking out on the walkway of the place the old woman had taken him too, allowing Adrian to feel even the slightest bit of relief on his whereabouts. That relief, soon turned into an uncomfortable fear.
BEACON HILLS CEMETERY.
Even the sign chimed a shimmer of cold fear down the teen's spine as he followed the lady; a bit more slow and hesitant in his steps. He looked around only to be met with a gravestone every turn; each reading a lost loved one.
