Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.
Summary: He hated himself, he hated being weak, for not being able to stand up for himself. Warnings: child abuse.
Warnings: Child abuse, neglect.
A/N: This is only going to have two short chapters unless I feel inspired to write more.
He heard the front door open, it was the one thing about how thin the wall were in this place that he liked. He immediately heard swearing and knew that it was one of the bad days. He resisted the urge to hide under his bed knowing that it wouldn't help any if his Dad decide to come up stairs and he would probably be bitten by something. He shivered a bit as he heard his Dad footsteps heading towards the stairs, stay downstairs, stay downstairs. He chanted silently in his head. Thankfully his father seemed to listen to his silent plea and the footstep made their way away from him. He sighed in relief, even though he knew that just because he wasn't coming up at the moment didn't mean that he would never come up. However it meant for the moment he was safe. He uncurled himself from the fetal position he found himself in, that he always seemed to find himself in whenever he heard his father come near him.
He hated himself, he hated being weak, for not being able to stand up for himself. He shook his head, he was not going to cry again he wasn't. It seemed like he was always crying, the only thing was after years of practice he was now able to do without letting out a sound that would cue his Dad that he was crying. If his Dad knew he was crying, then things would be even worse.
He looked at the top of his drawers, which besides his bed was the only furniture in the room. It was where he had put his half finished essay for English that was due tomorrow. He didn't want to finish it, not with the potential threat that could come through the door at any moment, but he also knew that if he wanted to get away from here he needed to graduate. He took a deep breath and walked as soundlessly as possible, he had been here for years so he knew which spots on the floor were nosier then others and avoided them automatically. He retrieved his paper and made his way back onto his bed and started on his homework. He heard the tv go on. The tv wasn't really helpful indicator, sometimes it meant that he stayed downstairs till he feel asleep and sometimes something he would watch would make him angry, and he would come up.
It was very difficult to concentrate in such a tense environment like this, every sound, every small scuffle, made him jump. He wished he was strong, so much stronger than he was. He was blinking back another round of tears when he heard footsteps coming his way. He quickly wiped his eyes, put his paper away quickly and grabbed a book. The door opened and his Dad stood there, the smell of alcohol coming off him in waves, it made him want to cough but he was able to overcome the impulse. He didn't say anything, he just waited to hear what his father was going to say or do to him.
"You killed your mother." he spat at him, and he worked hard to keep the tears from coming into his eyes. He missed her so much, especially since everything had changed after she died. It was almost worse when he said stuff like this then when he actually physically hurt him. His Dad started pulling his belt out of his pants and he did his best to keep his face free from the fear he was feeling. "You hyperactive little bastard!" Stiles shrunk as his father came at him with with the belt.
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