The crunch of dead grass beneath Stiles' sneakers was the only sound to be heard in the cemetery. Stifling heat without the grace of a passing breeze had kept many citizens of Beacon Hills indoors for the past week or so, but not him. He had grown quite restless in his bedroom, with only rapid fire thoughts for company. His father had long since returned to work and, despite him being in the know about werewolves, was not someone Stiles cared to bare his soul to.
So, he had decided to visit his mother instead of remaining static and contemplative in his home. Thus, a Sunday afternoon found Stiles walking with purpose through what seemed like miles of faceless headstones until he reached the one that always stood out. He came to an abrupt stop a few feet away and simply stared at the grave marker that read, "Claudia Stilinski: Devoted wife and loving mother." with her date of birth and death underneath. Stiles always said those were never enough, not sufficient in conveying who his mother really was.
Taking the last few steps necessary, Stiles sat down in front of the headstone and was quiet for a long time. It didn't take long for the usual sadness to overtake him and soon he began to speak.
"How do I even begin explaining the perpetual nightmare my life has been lately," Stiles murmured softly. He reached out and ran slim fingers over black marble. "Dad, uh, he's doing okay, though. Well, you know, after getting stabbed and kidnapped by a vengeful, evil druid. And then I almost died, in a car crash of all things." By now, he was trying to blink back tears and keep the sobbing at bay. But, he always failed.
"Awhile before that, Scott almost called it quits and sometimes, I still wake up, begging him to put down the road flare. God, Mom, we lost so much in so short a time. Erica and Boyd are gone and Derek couldn't deal, so he left. At least, I think that's why he left. Who knows? Certainly not me. I'm not sure of anything these days, really. Deaton warned me that there would be a price for saving Dad, a darkness around my heart. I had no idea it would feel like I'm drowning, even in my sleep."
Tears were falling freely now and Stiles' whole body shook with the force it took to not scream his throat raw. "The only thing that keeps me above water is memories of you, Mom." Stiles finally gasped out. "Even the sad ones, when you were too sick to get out of bed anymore. You would still sing to me while I slept next to your hospital bed, and the sound is so distant now. When I would have to leave for school, you'd hug me and your hands were so fragile, but I'd give anything for that now."
"Remember when I sneaked you out of your room and wheeled you around the hospital? We got in so much trouble for going that fast and almost crashing into the nurse's station. But, it didn't matter because I got to make you smile, and even Dad couldn't be mad about that."
A fond smile curved Stiles' trembling lips at the memory; it was one of the last good ones he had before Claudia couldn't hold on anymore. "I wish I had had more chances to make you smile, to make you proud. Now all that Dad has left is this broken kid who lies far too often and won't stop screaming in his sleep."
Finally reaching his breaking point, Stiles tipped his head back and let out a sob that so resembled a wolf's howl. Too thin hands gripped tightly at his chest, as if to claw and dig so deep that the darkness clogging his arteries would bleed out. He had tried so hard to keep everything buried, even after they had buried their dead and reconciled with the gaping holes left behind.
"I don't even know how I'm keeping myself together, Mom. What if I had lost Dad, too? I barely survived losing you." Stiles sobbed quietly. It felt like his lungs were caving in, but it still felt so good to finally let someone know that he was dying inside. Even if that person was already dead. "These roads never seemed so long since your paper heart stopped beating. You said that you would love me and be there forever. Why did you leave me so suddenly alone?"
As it always was, Stiles received no reply for his troubles.