dispatch center


You were finally on your way home after a long twelve hour shift at Beacon County’s dispatch center. As you turned onto one of the many back roads you used to get home, something turned over on the side of the road caught your attention. You heart almost stopped in your chest as you recognized Roscoe, Stiles’ Jeep.

A lump rapidly grew in your throat as you came to a tire screeching halt on the side of the road. You scrambled to get our of your car, never once taking your eyes off of the wrecked Jeep.

“No, no, no, no.” You kept repeating the word as you made your wary to where you could see into the jeep. The windshield was cracked, allowing you to see your husband in the driver’s seat and you daughter in the passenger seat. “Stiles!” You cried, crawling forward on your hands and knees. “Stiles!”

When he didn’t respond, you flipped over onto your butt and kicked out as hard as you could, trying to smash in the windshield the rest of the way. At the sound of the glass shattering, you watched your husband startled, his eyes wide as he took in the scene around him.

He blinked a few times, then brought up a hand to touch the bleeding cut on his cheek. “Y/N?”

You nodded, letting out a relieved laugh before crawling through the opening you had made. You bypassed Stiles, knowing that he was able to get himself out, and went right for your daughter. You unbuckled the seat-belt that was holding her in place and quickly caught her as she fell out of the sideways seat.

Brushing back your daughter’s messy hair from her face, you turned her head from side to side, looking for any wounds. Your breath caught as you found a large laceration on the side of her head, blood quickly oozing from the open wound.

“Kally?” You tried waking your daughter up, but she didn’t respond. “Kally!”

You could feel your heart racing as you quickly dug in your pocket for your phone and called 911. As the phone rang, you tore the edge of your shirt and pressed the cloth onto the laceration, hoping to slow the blood loss.

Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end spoke once they picked up.

“Over-turned jeep on Quibbler road,” you spoke quickly, your voice sounding calm and collected due to your years of being a 911 dispatcher. “Driver is conscious and moving, only a few cuts and bruises from what I could tell. Passenger has a large laceration on the left side of her head, and is unresponsive.”

Please be patient, okay? We are sending out help right now.” You could already hear the Sentry 40V2T siren from the Beacon Hills Fire Department ringing through the air. “I will need you to stay on the line with me, alright?”

Stiles had managed to get himself out of his predicament and had appeared beside you.”Y/N.” You glanced at Stiles, who was staring at Kally with wide eyes, tears welling in their honey brown depths. “Y/N, she’s not breathing.”

Upon hearing your husbands voice, your heart stopped and the phone slipped out of your hand.