The problem with Beacon Hills was that everyone always assumed the worst. For instance, when Lydia Martin went missing for more than twenty four hours, the town Sheriff set up a curfew for anyone under the age of eighteen. For weeks there was no sign of her, and people began to lose hope, including her parents. Though, according to a few of Lydia's closest friends, they were too caught upin their jobs to actually worry. And just hours before the police force called off the search, she showed up. Her normally expertly styled hair was tangled with leaves and mud, her nails were caked with mud, and on top of that she was nude, covered in scratches and her own blood. She showed up out of a thicket of trees, crying and rambling about some sort of demon wolf. Everyone had paused, and stared ather before snapping into action. Sheriff Stilinski had ran over and threw his heavy jacket over her, which fell about mid thigh. And that was when she fell to her knees, and blacked out.
She woke up the next day in a room with creme colored walls with an unfamiliar girl staring at her. She was pretty, with dark brown hair and tan skin. She wore a simple white shirt and pants with name brand sneakers. She was young, maybe Lydia's age or older. Lydia shot her a confused look, and tried to read her name tag, but to no avail. Her vision was blurred, she would find out later it was because she had been asleep for no less than fourteen hours. The girl quickly stood up and flashed her a brilliant smile.
"Hello, how are you feeling, Lydia?" She asked, moving to the bed, fiddling with something behind Lydia's head that she couldn't see.
Lydia coughed and struggled to sit up, until there was a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down. She suddenly became more aware that she had a few bandages, her hair was clean and silky, and frankly, she didn't feel absolutely horrible. Until it hit her, someone had given her some sort of unconcious sponge bath. The idea of someone else bathing her left a bad taste in her mouth. She blushed and tilted her head back to look at what the girl was playing with. An IV bag, but this certainly was not a hospital room.
"Where am I? Who are you? What...what happened?" She mumbled.
The girl laughed and sat by Lydia on the foot of the bed. She tilted her head and looked her over before sighing.
"I'm Cora, Cora Hale. I'm what they call your keeper. It sounds better than babysitter. You're uh...in Beacon Hill's Psychiatric Hospital. You came out of the woods, rambling s=things about werewolves. That's all I know." Cora said with an apologetic look.
"No...I'm not, I'm not...crazy. I don't even remember any of that." Lydia muttered.
"We're going to work on that. And no, don't worry, no electroshock." Cora joked, and Lydia barely managed to crack a smile. " Come on, we have your own room for you one floor up."
Lydia nodded and winced as Cora took the needle out of her arm. She placed a bandage over the small puncture wound and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Lydia was wearing the same thing as Cora, minus the shoes. She handed Lydia what looked like a pair of knock off Keds, and she quickly slipped them on before follwoing her out of the room.
"I totally get that the uniform sucks. I mean, just because you're a bit coo-coo doesn't mean you don't have any sense of fashion. Or maybe their just scared someone will try and strangle people with their paisley scarves. Even though paisley was out, like, a year ago." Cora rambled as they walked down the hall, and Lydia found herself laughing for the first time in a long time.
They stepped into an elevator at the end of a long white hallway. It seemed that everything lacked color, and Lydia felt horribly abnormal with her shock of red hair. They stood in silence for a while until the doors opened and they walked out into an identical hallway, exactly the same even up to the cheap paintings. Cora led her to a room and as she checked the clipboard out front, Lydia wandered into her new room. This, unlike the hallways that seemed blanched of color, was very vibrant. The walls were a light blue that matched the bedspread, and what looked like oak furniture. There was a vase of artificial roses on the nightstand along with a lamp.
"What happened to the last person who was in here?" Lydia asked, because she wasn't dumb, these were the markings of a past inhibitant.
"She got..let out." Cora said, scribbling something on the clipboard. "Your nurse is one of the new summer inturns, but trust me, he's experienced. His name is Sti-"
Cora was cut off by a knock on the door frame beside her. It was a boy, Lydia's age, who had dark brown hair and matching eyes. He gave themboth a small smile.
"As Cora was saying, Stiles Stilinski. I'm going to be your nurse. Welcome to the loony bin." He said, and Lydia blinked her wide eyes at him.
"I'll apologize for him. He uses sarcasm to compensate for his lack of a love life." Cora muttered, putting the clipboard back into it's holder before strolling out of the room.
"Uh, right, Lydia." He said, clearing his throat. "Before I let you get settled in, there's a few rules. But first, there's a few people you're going to have to see the next few days. Derek Hale, brother of your other nurse Cora, and also the head Doctor. And Isaac Lahey, the psychologist."
"Psychologist? You must really think I'm messed up."
Stiles laughed. "It's a, uh, requirment, actually."
"Right, well,get on with the rules then,since it seems I'm going to be staying here for a while." She sighed.
As he talked, Lydia mulled over the idea of her staying with these other...psychos. She almost began to cry.