Disclaimer: I don't own teen wolf.

I don't want the world to see me, because I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am

"Stiles? It's Allison and Scott, okay? We're going to open the door now."

I pray they don't say anything to me. I don't want to cry in front of them, I'm always so weak. I'm not supernaturally gifted, I'm not a trained hunter. I'm nothing, except maybe an orphan.

All I can see in my head is the Darach, (My english teacher?! Really?) fighting my dad, and then... the broken window. My father gone. Was it an hour ago? Or maybe a day? I don't know how long I've been sitting here. Scott took me home, and I've been on the floor ever since. What else can I do?

I go in and out of consciousness (am I sleeping? I don't even know) - I see Allison's feet as she comes over and sets water by my side; Scott's muddy sneakers as he stands by her. Eventually I sleep or they leave, I don't know which.

I should be out looking for my dad, but it occurs to me that this fear has paralyzed me. I feel like I could die of it. Rabbits are the only animal to die of fear, and all this time I've been nothing but a wounded, motherless rabbit amongst wolves. Literally.

I know Scott will do everything he can to find my dad. He whispered as much to me earlier, though I don't think he knows I heard. Lydia murmured the word catatonic to the others.

Lydia. I don't know why she's here. I don't remember her coming in.

For the first time in my life I don't want to think about Lydia. I don't want to think about her relationship with Aiden. I don't want to think about what I saw between her and Jackson that night. But mostly, I don't want to think about how she has never seen me and never will.

I've been so stupid, to think I ever stood a chance. I'm so pathetic.

I have no one.

At this, I start to cry. I don't sense anyone in the room so I bawl. I let myself feel everything - all of the loss. Erica, Heather, Boyd, Mr Harris, my mom. My mom. My mom. Maybe my dad. Metaphorically, Lydia.

My tears are huge and spill down my cheeks. I suddenly cannot stand this fetal position I've been in. I get up, fidgety, jumpy, tears still flowing. I want to break things, to fight back at the universe that's broken me. I want to jump out of my skin, claw my way out of this, out of everything.

Next thing I remember, I'm on the floor, and Lydia is here. Was she here the whole time? Ripped band posters are on the floor. So is broken glass. My hands are bloody.

I look up at Lydia and ask quietly, "did I do this?"

And I don't just mean my room. Did I push my dad to this? Did I ruin my chances with Lydia? Do I hurt people just by being me?

She takes my face in her soft, cool hands and I shiver.

"What do I do now?" I ask. "Who do I have left?"

Lydia leans in and kisses me, tenderly but forcefully, fighting my despairing thoughts with her sweetness.

I pull away, trying to make sense of this. "Please don't do that unless you mean it," I pleaded softly. A part of me wanted to kiss her back, to have this moment while it lasts. But I knew what I wanted more - I wanted truth. I wanted her to love me, because she loves me. Not because I'm a pathetic maybe-orphan.

She shook her head, kissed me again and said, "Stiles, you have me. You will always have me."