An icy breeze blew whatever warmth I had left away into the valley where I was sat. Well, I say in the valley, really I was perched at the top of one, peering over the edge, hunched in a tight ball with my knees practically touching my shoulders; I felt like a cold box. This is where I go. It's peaceful here, much better than ho-. No. I can't call it a home, not really. It's nothing like a home. You wouldn't consider it "homely" at all. Dad died last year. It was a year ago but I remember it as if was yesterday (cliché but painfully accurate saying). It had been at the school, we were having a meal before we left to go our own ways; all 18 years old back then. Anyone else who survived that night will be 19 like me. I brushed back my hair with my fingers, clenching tight onto reality.

I know I can talk about it…

You remember what happened don't you Stiles?

"Go away."

Oh, we both know I don't go away, don't we Stiles? STILES!…

Don't ignore me, we know what happens wh-

I shook the voice out of my head. It was just in my head. It's normal, I tell myself. It has to be normal… I lost my trail of thought…Oh. Dad.

He had come to warn me. Us two, we're not exactly strangers to the supernatural (putting it lightly). We have fought demons, gone against were-wolves, and as far as we knew there could've be thousands more things waiting for us, and we were right. There were. And we weren't prepared; long story short it was my fault. Everything is always my fault, and everyone around me gets hurt and I can't stand it.

Rolling onto my back I sprung to my feet half-heartedly.. When I'm alone, I don't mind admitting to myself there are actually some things I understand, and logic is one of them. My parents were geniuses. They taught me so many different things. At 19, I realise now I never had a normal childhood. Children are supposed to break your hearts, and laugh till they have to run to the bathroom. Not ever having that, it was just me and Scott learning how to become theoretical assassins in our back yard. I haven't seen Scott in weeks…

He isn't my biological brother, but he feels like one. He was my best friend…is my best friend. He first spoke to me in kindergarten. Well, he didn't technically speak to me, but he generously offered me his juice box when I sat on mine and it exploded over a poor girl on my right. We got on straight away after that, constantly joking around, and I invited him round a lot to keep me company. He was like an opposite of me; lived with his mother, a joker, lovable. And me; lived with Dad, an introverted sarcastic boy, certainly not lovable. If I'm honest, learning these things with Scott made everything more bearable, and it made me accept it more than before. My mother died when I was about 7 from schizophrenia.

It was strange, I remember her. Some days she would go without speaking for hours on end, and scream herself hoarse at 3 in the morning. She would hear things none of us could hear, answer the phone when it wasn't ringing and open the door to nobody. I never really understood her, but standing at the foot of an empty hospital bed being told the bad news really affected me in a bad way. For weeks I wouldn't talk properly to anyone, not Scott or Dad. I would ask Dad to pass the salt, and walk home with Scott in silence, but I didn't communicate in such a way that they would be satisfied. I could tell Scott was sympathetic but wasn't sure how to deal with me. Hell, no 7 year old kid should know how to deal with anyone like that, or go through with it. I got over it eventually, even though it hurt, I didn't connect with her when she was alive, because one part of me was afraid of her, and the other part was scared she didn't love me.

She didn't, you know.

I closed my eyes, trying not to listen, but it was too late, I'd let him in. Erebus – that's what he called himself. I try not to listen to him, but he's powerful in my head. He makes me do things I don't want to just by the sound of his voice, and even now it's difficult to block him out.

Erebus, yes. You don't want to block me out, do you Stiles? 'Cause that would hurt my feelings…

He paused, over-dramatically, before pretending to cry and then he disappeared, his cruel laugh still ringing in my head. I can't stand it. Dad never knew about Erebus, I was afraid to tell him in case he called me crazy or sent me to a hospital like Mom. Dad's death is on me, because of Erebus.

It was our leaving meal ceremony night at the school, and everyone was dressed up all fancy, girls in long gowns and cute dresses, boys in tuxes and suits. Everyone went with dates, or just with friends, and it was great until about a couple of hours into the night. We had eaten, and we danced. I danced with Lydia. She was gorgeous. I had a thing for her all of the last year at school, and she agreed to dance with me. Silly, shy me. She was wearing a deep purple dress, sleeveless, which swirled at her ankles. Even though she was in heels, she didn't quite reach my height, I remember us joking about it playfully. Dad had run into the hall covered in blood, his eyes frantic, searching for me. Of course lots of gasps and a few screams had echoed around the hall, and I had left Lydia to sprint over to him. He told me under his breath that we were in danger, it was a wolf pack. The same one we had been worried about for weeks, and it had found us, targeted us, Scott especially. We managed to get everyone out through the small passage from the hall under the stage to the gym on the other side of the school, where people, confused, arranged people to collect them.

I was about halfway through the passage when I noticed Dad wasn't behind me. Gasping for breath after running back, all I could see was the darkness of the Hall which just an hour ago had been lit with candles and chandeliers. The school was quite wealthy and so most rooms were as eccentric and impressive as the Hall. It was one of the places I did appreciate, despite my age.

Dad had been cornered by two wolves on the left side of the Hall, and I would have run to help… without question. If it wasn't for E-

Me?

"Yes." I replied.

I did you a favour you know… it's better off just you and me. He slowed us down… he deserved it.

I bit down on my lip so hard it bled, just to stop myself screaming at Erebus. He had told me an outright lie, and shamefully, I believed him. He'd said it was Dad's plan, and he could handle a couple of rogue wolves. Then he'd said Lydia was about to be shredded by wolves who had gathered at the south end of the passage. I'd believed him, yelling to Dad I'd be right back, but I knew something was wrong as soon as I stepped foot back in the passage. I kept running, running away from my father who was certainly not handling the pair of wolves, who ripped him apart. When I got there and saw Lydia stood in the arms of another boy, who was comforting her; then I knew Erebus had cost me my father's life. By the time I got back to the Hall, the wolves were gone and Dad was lying on the floor. I had collapsed next to him, screaming at him to wake up, and to tell me it was okay, but his vacant eyes stayed staring at the once-glistening chandeliers, which were shattered and lay in pieces around his body. I had cried myself to sleep on his chest, before Scott found me and called 911.

I stayed that night at Scott's, his mother trying to feed me and bring me drinks. My phone had been going crazy asking what the hell happened, some condolences and one from Lydia. That one I had read, but it was very brief. I'm so sorry, Stiles.

I don't know whether it was the sincerity of it, or the genuine feel to it, but I knew that was the one I fell asleep to, reading it over and over again. I left Scott's house in the early hours of the morning, wanting to avoid any more conversations with the police about the accident. I shouldn't even call it that, it was murder. And it was my fault.

I've been living alone for a long time now. I took off pretty quickly, working at small shops for a few months before quitting, so I kept moving but could afford to occasionally stay at motels or grab something to eat without stealing. Scott, who is now a werewolf, had been tracking me, but it was easy to put him off with false leads if you know him like I do.

The sun was starting to set now, and the grass rippled silently next to my shoes, the breeze biting into my skin through my hoody, which wasn't doing me much good; I was freezing. I stood up, and nearly fell over at the pain of the joints in my knees cracking. My face was gaunt, and my lips chapped and pale. I must have been sat there for hours without realising. Recalling my whole life story to the countryside had exhausted me, and I knew I had to find somewhere to sleep before it got too dark to see. My bag lay beside me. Shaking, I unzipped the side pocket and grabbed the hand torch, flicking it on. I put it on the grass beside me, and opened another section of my bag. It was pretty empty except for a few things – my old flip-phone (which I clicked on for the first time in days), my spare t-shirt, a length of rope, my pocket knife, a packet of dried fruit, a few notes and my journal. I was sat on my sleeping bag. Rolling it up and stuffing it in my bag, I set off down the steep valley with the bag swinging on my back behind me.

My foot caught on an unlevelled piece of mud and the moment after that I was tumbling down the steep valley, the bag flew off my shoulder and the torch shot straight out of my hand. The grass was slippery, and I couldn't get a grip good enough to stop me falling, and that's when I hit the electric fence.