Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Zane, Chase

JUST SO YOU KNOW: like everyone else, I have no idea what Stiles' real name is, so I'm going along with what everyone else puts :) and I've made his middle name up XD

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Chapter 3

Stiles

Having no social life gave me all the time in the world to finish any and all assignments. It wasn't like they took me all that long anyway. I did spend most of my time at the local library, using the computers there to actually do the work. Come on, what did you expect? When you're living in your car after running away from 'home', only grabbing the few boxes of stuff you could, you don't tend to have a computer/laptop with you.

So, yeah. All the assignments I had been given during my first week of school were all over and done with, ready to be handed in on Monday... Even if we did have another two weeks to finish them.

Like I said, having no social life gave me all the time in the world!

You can imagine the surprise on my teachers' faces when I handed in the numerous sheets of paper with my work, before heading to my seat at the back of the class as always. The room was usually empty of all students when I got to class, everyone else taking their time, while I arrived early to everything. I wanted a better chance in life. What a better way to do it than this.

And then I noticed it. On the Friday just passed, when I had met Isaac, I had thought I was being followed by the wolves. But I just wrote that off as me being paranoid.

This time? This time I knew they were following me. During my free periods I would see them standing close by. At first I thought it was a coincidence, but then any time I moved somewhere else, they would follow me. It was pissing me off. It was irritating, to say the least; words could not describe my frustration. It would have been easy to turn around and tell them to fuck off, but that would get me nowhere. Only more staring and whispers.

So I did nothing. Gritting my teeth and digging my nails into my palms, hoping to any God I could think of that they would just leave me alone. All I wanted to do was learn.

It was during my second break of the day that I went outside to my Jeep. The temperature had dropped, so I thought it would a good idea to grab my red hoodie... I had Isaac and Danny following me this time, stopping at the door – I noticed – as I went to my car. I was starting to wonder what their problem was, why they had this sort of fascination with me. For a moment, I thought it would have had something to do with me helping Isaac out, you know... But then why would they do that?

I started walking across the parking lot, when I caught hold of this...well, it smelled like rotting flesh, to be honest. A body abandoned, left to decay into nothing. It was...sickening. It got stronger the closer I got to my Jeep, making it harder to ignore. I couldn't help but look around, trying to find the source...

Imagine my surprise when I found it was a person.

He looked to be, about, thirty seven. Slicked back brown hair, a slight beard and moustache...he looked a little like Derek Hale.

That must be Derek's uncle, Peter.

That thought was only supported when I saw the group that was standing with him... And the fact that Isaac and Danny had started walking away from the door to the university and over to the group. Which, evidently, was closer to me...

I had just grabbed a hold of the red material of my hoodie when an idea came to mind. It would seem childish to a lot of people, but I couldn't help it. Once something like this came to mind, most of the time I couldn't stop it.

Which is why, on my way back past the group, I couldn't help but start humming the Walking Dead theme song.

Come on! Who could pass up that opportunity?!

I thought that maybe they'd start back off, you know, later in the day. Nope. The eight of them still followed me around, in little groups. I knew I couldn't get away with it when it came to my lessons, I knew that! But they could at least back off when walking around the school. It was a big place, they could go anywhere.

I think that's why, during lunch, I went to sit in the library. It was quiet, and there weren't a lot of people in there. The less people the better, I thought. For me, it made it easier to concentrate, not having to worry about anyone going in for the attack.

Besides, it had books – both fiction and educational – and computers. Over the weekend I had bought a memory stick, as well as a few writing and drawing pads... The writing pads made it easier to write down any ideas for school work, just so I wouldn't forget them. But the drawing pad? Well...I liked to doodle. That plus music – I was proud to say I was a music junkie – helped take my mind off of everything, helped me forget just for a moment...

It was a shame that I had to leave all of that stuff back in Dallas. A lot of it I could replace easily and luckily I had grabbed the things that were of value to me and only me... But it was going to be a long time before I could replace the music I had and my guitar.

But I was determined to. I was determined to get a good job after university, move into a nice flat, and replace anything I couldn't bring with me. I was determined to start fresh, have a better life. I was going to do that and nothing/no one could stop me! Not now, not ever. I would do this.

I knew it was on purpose. There was no way it could have been an accident.

It turned out that Chase could hold a grudge. That was how I found myself with mud and soda soaking into my t-shirt. The blue material was already ruined; I needed to throw it out anyway. But I thought I would be able to get away with it just a little longer!

I had just been walking across the field, going back into the university after sitting under the bleachers, when I was tackled to the ground. I managed to get Chase off of me, throwing him a few feet to my left, before one of his buddies chucked their soda can at my back. I kept the inhuman growl as quiet as possible, as to not attract more attention to myself. I tried as hard as possible to hold back the wolf, straining against the restraints I had carefully built up over the years, trying to hide both him and the fox – and the folf... My jaw locked, and I could feel the prickling of fur starting to grow. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, digging the slowly forming claws into the tops of my thighs, desperately trying to hold back, as I walked away, stiffly.

I jogged out to my Jeep to grab another shirt, not wanting to prolong the uncomfortable feeling of the mud and soda seeping through the material and onto my skin, getting back inside and into one of the bathrooms just as quickly. My skin itched from the irritation from the damaged material, screaming at me to get it off of me and into the bin. I was more than happy to do so, balling it up and chucking it into the black cylinder with accuracy that only came with practise and with being a supernatural creature.

I placed the dark purple t-shirt on the small counter for a moment, wondering whether or not I should take a look. It had only been nine days since I had escaped to California – today being Monday, 9th September 2013 – so I knew the marks would still be there. Even though I had those freaky powers that some of us supernatural people had, didn't mean I healed as fast as others. Being a mix like me, while rare, did have its low points. Yes, we healed faster than the average human, but we were left with the scars. That was one of the things I had to live with, knowing that I would forever be covered in those raised white bumps.

Sighing, I came to the decision that I may as well look. There was no use in being uptight over it. So, stepping in front of the mirror, I glanced at my torso.

Knives and whips were a favourite with my father, always using both. First the whip would come out, crisscrossing over my back, getting deeper and deeper with each slash. Sometimes, when he was in a particularly bad mood, he would go over them until I was about ready to pass out from the white hot pain... But he wouldn't stop there. He would grab the knife he always seemed to have close by, digging the unforgiving metal into my back, chest and stomach. Sometimes, I would catch this look in his eyes... This psychotic pleasure from seeing me trying not to scream in agony, trying not to cry so he could have something else to taunt me with. They were the main things he used. There was that one time, when I was younger, when he used his belt – that's how he got the idea of the whip. He was drunk that night and I had talked back to him, timid as it was... First he had hit me, giving me a black eye and making me nose bleed... It was during that time that he got his belt off, kicking me until I was on my stomach. That's when I felt the first sting of leather against my back. I had only been fourteen at the time, just a week after I had admitted I was gay, so it wasn't my fault that I couldn't hold back a pain filled cry.

Two years later, when I was sixteen, was when I met Zane. At first, he was a really nice guy, sweet even. He was two years older than me, being eighteen, and I looked up to him. He was someone I could trust, now that I knew what my dad was really like. But, after a few months, he started to change. That's when he let his true colours show, starting to get violent and abusive. It started off small, just him hitting me if I did something he didn't like. At first he would apologise, say he didn't mean it, that he was just stressed and he snapped. But then he stopped apologising. It went from hitting, to punching. From punching, to pummelling, kicking, small blades. At first, I thought it was stress or something I had done, or that he was drunk. But then, one day, he started doing it more. He tried to force me to...do stuff. I said no, I got away from him, he left me alone for a bit. That was when the hitting and kicking and cutting got worse. He was doing that because I wasn't giving him what he wanted and because he was a fucking jackass.

I had tattoos covering each scar. Well, trying to cover each scar. Each symbol – rune – meant something: strength, ice, protection, water, air, sun, Earth, fire, power, defence warrior, journey. Those were to name a few. There were two though, that weren't runes. One was a Triskelion, on my back, right in the middle. I had liked the look of it since I was a child, and it was something my mom liked too. It was the first tattoo I got, it just seemed right. But, even though it wasn't a rune, it still meant something.

The active symbolism of it was: action, cycles, progress, revolution, competition and moving forward.

The meanings of the three extensions – spirals, basically – were: spirit, mind, body; Father, Son, Holy Ghost; mother, father, child; past, present, future; power, intellect, love; creator, destroyer, sustainer; creation, preservation, destruction.

The three worlds represented by it were: The Otherworld, where spirits, gods and goddesses live. The Mortal World, where you and I live along with plants and animals. The Celestial World, where unseen energies live and move about. Like the forces of sun, moon, wind and water.

The lunar symbols associated with it were: mystery, feminine, intuition, subtleness, subconscious, spirituality, illumination and hidden desire.

Overall really, the meanings of the Triskelion were: personal growth, human development and spiritual expansion.

The other tattoo, well, that was personal to me...

Sighing, I grabbed my dark purple t-shirt, slipping it over my head easily. It was a little big for me, like all my clothes, but it was something. It was only after I had my t-shirt on right that I noticed them.

Isaac was standing there with Danny, Scott, Jackson and Boyd...all of them staring. Running a hand through my hair, I turned, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the counter.

"Just say it and leave me alone." I told them. "I've had everything said about them, go on, just say it."

"What's 'Genim'?" Jackson asked, glaring slightly.

"A tattoo I have."

He went from glaring to rolling his eyes exasperatedly. Starting to walk away, until Boyd caught his arm and dragged him back. I couldn't help but smirk.

"What does it mean?" Danny asked, as calmly as he normally did when I heard him speak.

"Why do you guys care?" I shot back. "And while I'm asking, why are you following me? Got nothing better to do than stalk the new kid?"

None of them said anything, just waiting. They were blocking the door, so the only way I could get out was if I told them the truth, unless I wanted to reveal to them what I really was – which I really didn't! So, the truth it was.

"It's my name." I spat. "Genim Stilinski is my real name. Happy now?"

I left before they could say anything.

Isaac

The scars that were so poorly covered and the way Stiles acted... There was only one thing that I knew could make someone like that, because I used to be exactly the same before I killed my dad after becoming a werewolf. But it wasn't like I could come out and say it. It wasn't my secret to tell, it wasn't my place. I knew that I never wanted people finding out about my dad, and that must have been exactly what was happening with Stiles... But that didn't mean I wanted to watch someone suffer like I did, especially after that person had helped me. Even though they didn't know me. It was no wonder that he acted like he did with people, not really trusting anyone. It was strange thinking that at some point, I was exactly where he was a few years ago...

It was later on, at home, with the whole Pack when Scott was telling everyone else what we had seen. I stayed quiet, least I give something away, just shuffling closer into Danny's side, trying to tune everything out. Though that became difficult when Danny started hacking into databases online for any trace of 'Genim Stilinski', just to see if we could find out anything about him. I bit my lip, watching the screen.

"We got something." Danny announced, ten minutes later. "Dallas, Texas. Genim Alexander Stilinski. Born August twenty sixth nineteen ninety four, to Claudia and John Stilinski. Claudia died of stomach cancer just over nine years ago, five days after Stiles' tenth birthday... John is the Sheriff..."

That just made my stomach churn. To be honest, I didn't want to hear anymore, but if I left now, they would know I was hiding something. So, I just sat and listened.

"In and out of the hospital, treating: broken bones, deep cuts to his stomach, hair line fractures, concussions, burns." Danny continued. "In and out of jail, for: vandalism, assault, breaking and entering, theft, possession of drugs and... Whoa, ok, attempted murder."

"Of who?!" Allison shrieked.

"His dad, apparently. Dad got him out each time he went in, claiming that his son was mentally ill and was receiving help."

Everyone was silent for a moment, looking at no one. Derek was lost in thought; it was easy to tell, frowning slightly.

To be honest, having an idea of what Stiles had to put up with? I wasn't surprised he tried to get rid of his dad. For me, as bad as it may sound, it was one of the best things I did. I was no longer looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to appear and attack at any moment... I could actually live my life with my real family.

It was a shame Stiles couldn't do the same thing.

"Well, that was cheery." Peter drawled, in the end. "So, I'm thinking pizza for dinner."

"Only you could think of food at a time like this, Zombie!" Scott called out.

"Would you rather I think of your mother?"

"Perverted asshole!"

I tuned everything out. From finding out this guy had had a troubled life; somehow we'd completely jumped over sympathy and gone straight to ignoring.

I just wished we could help.

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