Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.
Summary: Being a werewolf was supposed to make everything better, make all the pain and fear go away. Spoilers for "Motel California." Just a short little thing.
Warnings: abuse.
Being a werewolf was supposed to make everything better make all the pain and fear go away...it hadn't... it was still there. Still there simmering underneath his usually mostly calm exterior. Ready at any moments notice to bubble over. He was tired of the fear, the terror of anything that reminded him of that. He was supposed to be a werewolf. He was supposed to be strong.
How was it that every time he was reminded of his past, be it being locked in a closet or drugged with wolfsbane that it always seemed to reduce him back to the scared little boy who couldn't fight...who couldn't defend himself? Someone who hid under the bed rather then face his father voice, who had been constantly telling him everything he did wrong and enforcing it either with a stint in the freezer or hurling an object or a fist at him.
Isaac sat against the bus window his back facing away from the hotel that had brought all the memories back...memories that had finally receded a little bit, but were brought full force to the front of his mind. Memories that he wanted to forget but never seemed to fully able to.
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