Stiles pulled into the driveway and saw his dad's cruiser was already sitting there. He sighed and leaned his head against the steering wheel before sliding out of the jeep. The walk to the front door was long and drawn out, Stiles felt a sense of utter hopelessness fill him, he sighed, wishing someone was able to save him, that someone knew. But no one knew, not even his best friend, all the bruises, the cuts, they were all written off by his so called best friend. No one was able to see past the facade he had built for himself, no one could see the depression slowly eating away at him from the inside. Stiles took a deep breath and opened the door, closing it softly behind me.

"Where the fuck...have you been? You ungrateful little bitch." The Sheriff slurred out, punching Stiles in the back of the head before he had a chance to turn around.

"I was at Scott's, dad. We were working on homework." Stiles held the back of his head as he turned around and faced his father; who had his uniform on still, shirt untucked and unbuttoned. His dad glared at him before punching him in the face, Stiles could feel his nose crack under the force but gritted his teeth, trying not to scream out against the pain. No sound came out but he could do nothing about the tears that slid from his closed eyes. Stiles just clenched his jaw shut and screw his eyes close as his dad started kicking his ribs and stomach. Stiles curled up in a tight ball once the kicking stopped, he laid there and waited, waited for what was next, hoping his dad had already worn himself out, but Stiles knew better, he just tired to prepare himself for what was coming next.

"It's all your fault...I hate looking at you, you look just like HER." The Sheriff said, almost to himself. Stiles could hear his dad's footsteps getting closer before stopping less than a foot away. "I hate everything about you. I hate how much you are like her, why couldn't it have been you? Why did they have to take her from me?" Stiles could hear his dad strain as he was lifting something, Stiles just curled up tighter, trying to protect himself as his dads words ripped him apart inside. His dad brought down the heavy, wooden chair onto Stiles' side who couldn't help but scream out against the pain, the pain of the words his dad had said, the pain of the beating, the pain of the chair crashing against him, the pain of the sharp wood cutting his side open. The Sheriff quickly rolled Stiles over and punched him a few more times.

"Shut the fuck up." He almost growled out as he punched Stiles in the jaw one more time before dropping him to the floor. "Clean this mess up. I am going to bed." He gave Stiles one more kick before heading up the stairs. Stiles laid on the floor, trying to catch his breath, his hand slowly slid to his side to inspect the damage. He hissed in pain and looked at his hand, it came away covered in blood. Stiles stood up, almost as if he was in a trance. He felt dead inside, there was no hope for him anymore. He grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen, bit down on it and fixed his nose; this had happened enough that he was almost use to realigning his nose.

"I can't do this anymore." He whispered to himself as he headed for the front door, sparing an empty glance towards the mess of blood and wood on the floor. He went outside and stood there for a second, enjoying the peace and quiet; trying to figure out where he would go. He sighed before heading to the woods, he wasn't sure where he was going, he didn't know when he would come back, if he would come back. He just kept walking, lost within himself. Eventually he sat down against a tree, he couldn't see the town anymore, he wasn't even sure where he was; he broke down the second he sat, tears streaming down his face as everything hit him. All his wounds were starting to swell and bruise, the large cut on his side from the chair was hurting to the point he almost couldn't breathe. He tried to remember what it would like back when his mom was alive, before his dad started drinking and hitting Stiles. He sighed and rested his head against his drawn up knees when he couldn't remember. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, all he knew was the pain and the emptiness.

A/N

This is something a bit different for me for a few reasons, first, I am not use to writing first person, and second, I'm not use to writing guy/guy so review and let me know oks :)

And I would like to thank my friend onecoldn'tsee for helping me come up with the title and deciding on a few important decisions regarding this story.

So rate and review, let me know what you think of it so far (Derek will be coming in next chapter so don't worry)