"He was drowning, but nobody saw his struggle."

Prologue:

Stiles arrived at midnight, a quarter after twelve, and some of the wolves seem to notice him rushing by. Fuckers. He moved faster than any other kind of human in the forest. It was his only option. If that giant black ass wolf biting at my heels didn't kill him, then this brown lopsided twig will soon finish up the job. He pumped his legs harder, exerting every endurance a long with built up strength Stiles possibly had left.

Fantasizing the memories of his family. His Mom and Dad... Stiles Mom died when he was just only six – although, his dad would utter not a single word when he start a conversation about her. In the end… He learned to never talk about her towards him – the cold shoulder is not cool bruh. Not cool.

He put more weight onto my legs as he pushed harder. His chest started burning, but he end up managing to put some fucking space between his attackers.

You have to believe him that wolf or whatever that thing was – was planning to have him for dinner. Stiles know he taste good, but he do not want to be eaten. At all. More than so, have his head torn off since, yes, he is a sarcastic guy who piss off every single body since he is actually not funny. Stiles is just mean and people really think he is joking.

Loss of track as he was ripped away from his conscious, the wolf growled vexed at him, but he never looked back. He could not spare a single moment just to turn his head to even glance at him.

The time under consideration outside since it was pitch black, he couldn't see what he was running towards and he certainly didn't see the shapes begin to form in the dirt beneath his brand new pairs of Jordan's. Stiles size seven sneakers slid into one and he could hear the crack of his ankle before he tumbled down onto the damp, dusty ground before him.

Noticing that the wolf now was caught up to him, his fingernails clung to the soil as it separated itself, and he felt some icy chills running down his spine. The terrible frost settles and merges into his skin like they are one. Stiles started to shake uncontrollably – it would be the death of him here.

Teeth bore at him, foam dripping from the corners of his mouth. Licking his lips hungrily. But he knew that the wolf wouldn't spare his life today.

Closing his pale eyelids, and waited for him to bring him his death. All of the sudden, Stiles was sinking into a pit of nothingness. The wolf just stood there and watched him as he sink further. Drowning in his own despair, quietly dying.


"Stiles, are you okay?" Scott called, a bit troubled that he ignored him for almost the entire period.

Releasing a halo sign, he ran a clammy palm through his hair. Heart quickening up it's pace, his hand reached up to clutch at the fabric – making sure Stiles wouldn't lose himself here. He will win this battle.

Damn it.

Stiles was hexing another panic attack. Why is the Nogitsune trying so hard to take over his body? This is like… The sixth one that happened this week. Hearing a screeching sound that came from the direction beside him where Scott was sitting. He felt a pair of warm hands rested upon my shoulder. A chill was running down his spine as Stiles flinched at the incoming touch. "Stiles…? Calm down – It's –" The fear in his voice was the only thing that made Stiles panic even more.

He was out of control. His breath was very raspy, and his fingers dug into his plaid shirt, Malia use to wear before they broke up.

"Ow, Scott! Could you just leave me alone?" Shit, he did not mean to say the thing he had just said.

"No," He grind the words out, his grip tighten on Stile's shoulder. "I came to tell you that we have a pack meeting."

"Why should I go? It's not like nobody actually care about my well-being." He shrugged Scott's hand away from his now bruised shoulder. "We used to talk for hours. Look at us now?" Suddenly standing up in his chair, he pressed the palm of his shakily hands, and begun to shove Scott away from his body. "Everyday I struggle. Every. Single. Fucking. Day, Scott. There is a difference between who I am and what I show." Violent, uncontrollable anger in his face was distorted with rage.

An instance of aggressive anger was caused by a stressful conversation between his best friend. At least Scott didn't budge. He clutched the end part of his arm beyond his wrist, including palm, fingers and his thumbs. He punched him in the face, and ran off.

He didn't want to see the look of his best friend's face.

Once out of the building, he ran the last few yards, breathing heavily – his heart hammering in his chest constantly. Jumping into his jeep, starting the engine – and zoomed out the school's parking lot. He just can't… He just can't do this any longer.

Arriving in front of his small two-bedroom home, he opened the jeep door, and slammed it with all his might. Stiles just hate his self. Why does it have to be him? Is he that easy to get to? Is that why the others rarely invite him to the pack meetings? Now, all of the sudden – they decided to tell him to come to a meeting when they been neglecting him for a year? That shit they did, is not right at all.

Closing and locking the front door, Stiles climbed up the stairs to his room. Reaching to his destination, he fell into his bed, and just began to break down crying. Soon he fell into an abyss dream where he wishes he could stay forever.

He woke up to someone watching him, like literally – he could feel eyes on him as he was sleeping. Budging up, he extended his arm towards the lamp to turn it on, but he was pushed by a heavy weight.

Pair of rough hands was collapsed over his mouth. Struggling to be released but the person on top of his would not move.

"Stiles." The spontaneous sounds and movements of the face and body that are the instinctive expressions of lively amusement and sometimes also of contempt or derision, but – he couldn't see a face. Why couldn't he see? His breathing began to quicken as he heard the voice of the Nogitsune. "Can you feel it? The dead weight of your legs from the sleeping pills, the dizziness from alcohol, the soft throbbing of your pulse as your blood is pumped in your wrists?" He closed his eyes tightly, a single tear running down his pale cheek. "That's it. That's what we have been waiting for, the quiet of comfort. The beauty is dying."

The hands of the Nogitsune disappeared. Merges of tears flow down as he choked on his spit that was held into is mouth.

"Stiles! Son, wake up," Stiles dad shook uncontrollably from a strong emotion such as fear or anger that was showing through his facial expression. "It's okay – Stiles I am here, it's okay." Shed of tears, showing how his son was distress just by the look of him. "Don't cry – it'll be alright."

"Dad –" Stile begun to say something in an anguished tone of voice. "When will it end?" He cried out. "Everyone thinks I am such a happy person and that I have it all together. I tried to be strong for everyone in the pack. What they don't know is that I am dying on the inside. I don't have it all together. I am falling apart, dad." All he felt were his dad's strong embrace soothing his nerves. He felt safe in his arms.

"Don't give up son. You've still got a couple of motherfuckers to prove wrong." The kiss lingered on his forehead as he listened to his father words.

"I'm scared dad." He was able to say while sniffling, the tears kept tumbling down his cheeks – let fall; be so wet as it shed small drops of liquid down his cheek.

"Stiles, fear doesn't shut you down. It wakes you up."


A/N: Yes, this is my first stories and it is not beta yet, and if you want to beta it please message me! I know this is a noobish story, but I really hope you guys enjoy it. Although this is a Sterek story. Don't like, please don't read. Bye-Bye!