Scott, fully aware of this fact, responded in the same exasperated tone as Stiles, "Yeah, I know, but chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus...it felt so real." Kissing her felt real too, Scott thought, but he kept that to himself.
              Stiles rolled his eyes in disbelief. "How real?"
              Scott shrugged, "Like it actually happened."
              As they pushed open the back doors simultaneously, heading towards another building, they both stopped abruptly, stunned into silence.
              Their eyes locked onto one of the buses in the parking lot, a bus surrounded by crime scene tape. The back of the bus was splattered with blood, and the emergency exit door hung precariously by a single hinge at the bottom. A crime scene investigator snapped photos of the wreckage, including one of the back seats, which had been torn open, spilling its stuffing onto the floor.
              Fear gripped them both by the throats as they exchanged horrified glances, and then they sprinted back into the building.
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SCOTT AND STILES HURRIEDLY NAVIGATED THE BUSTLING HALLWAYS OF BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL, their eyes darting from their phones to the people around them—trying to spot a certain auburn-haired girl.
              Scott wore a worried frown as he glanced around, frustration evident in his eyes. He turned to Stiles and inquired, "She's not picking up my calls. Is she answering yours?"
              Stiles fixed Scott with a stern gaze and deadpanned, "We're literally right next to each other, Scott."
              Scott's face bore a deep expression of concern, but Stiles remained oblivious, his attention still scanning their surroundings. He muttered in frustration, "I swear to God, if you killed her, Scott..." Stiles trailed off, directing an accusatory glare at Scott, who continued to send urgent messages to Brietta.
              Scott and Stiles found themselves practically turning in circles as they walked, desperately scanning the sea of students in hopes of spotting Brietta.
              Scott continued to search, his anxiety palpable as he anxiously ran his hand through his hair. Finally, unable to contain his worry any longer, he picked up his pace and abruptly turned the corner, with Stiles closely following, their control slipping away amidst the tension.
              As Scott's own heartbeats thundered in his ears, Stiles struggled to breathe. In a moment of desperation, Scott pressed himself against one of the lockers, gripping it tightly with both hands. Stiles, his chest rising and falling rapidly, began to inquire among the students about Brietta's whereabouts. 
              Brietta's absence was taking its toll on both of them.
              After an agonizingly long moment of fruitless searching, Scott's frustration reached its breaking point. He let out a furious yell and, driven by his pent-up emotions, delivered a powerful punch to the locker. The impact shattered the combination lock and warped the door to the extent that it could no longer close properly. 
              Nobody pays any attention to Scott except Stiles, who walks over to him and places a hand on his shoulder, "We'll find her, Scott." However, Stiles didn't entirely believe himself.