McCall House

Melissa's POV

A week.

An entire week went by with Scott missing and nowhere to be found, and all I could do was nothing but wait for him at home in case he showed up.

With each passing day, I lost hope because the people Scott spent most of his time with didn't know where he was.

Neither Stiles nor Allison, who admitted to me that they were secretly dating, although they had a fight the last time she saw him at a rave party in the Warehouse District, knew where he was or could be.

In my pursuit of finding my son, I ended up calling Rafael, his father, because I thought Scott might have gone to him since he has been acting out lately, and I figured he just wanted his father back in his life because children needed both their parents regardless of how I felt about Rafael and how he abandoned our son.

As it turned out, Rafael was genuinely surprised to receive my phone call, but that surprise turned into concern when I asked if Scott was with him and then the blame game began soon after when it became clear that Scott wasn't with him.

I didn't have the strength to argue with him, so I asked that he contact me if Scott showed up, and he asked me to do the same and that was that.

It has been days since the phone call and a few more calls between us for any updates and a little more of the blame game that we both knew we were using just to stay a little longer on the line to feel a little closer to our son, the best of the both of us, because no one understood what we were going through except us.

Nothing ever prepared a parent to deal with their child suddenly disappearing without a trace. Nothing.

The many thoughts that plagued my mind and made me question if maybe I had something to do with Scott's disappearance, if maybe he tried to speak with me about something that could have caused him to maybe runaway, but I didn't listen, tormented me day and night.

But all his belongings were accounted for, except his phone which was off, so the possibility that Scott ran away was small, especially without telling Stiles, but that didn't ease my worries and the self blame.

To ease the pain, or perhaps to torture myself, I slept in his bedroom and spent most of my time in it as I was now, laying down on his bed with the same sheets he last slept with and a dirty t-shirt that still had the fabric freshener he liked and his own natural scent by way of sweat.

I...

The bedroom's door suddenly opened, and I didn't waste a moment to sit up and check who it was, to check if it was Scott, only to find Noah.

My hope and I deflated for the nth time.

"I'm fine," I murmured, laying back down. "Instead of coming to check on me, you should be out there looking for my son. You should be looking for Scott."

I didn't have to look at Noah to know that his facial expression said;

"You are anything but fine. Just look at you. You haven't taken a bath in days or eaten anything."

"I... Meli..." Noah hesitantly began, and a sudden coldness overwhelmed my body, my bones and my soul because something suddenly didn't feel right. "Me-Melissa..."

Yes, something didn't feel right, and I just knew that I didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"Don't," I whispered, for I couldn't gather enough strength to say more, but my eyes sure gathered enough tears to blur my vision.

"Melissa."

"Don't!" I whisper yelled and clutched Scott's t-shirt even tighter to my chest and nose and breathed it in while I tightened my fetal position.

"We..."

"I said DON'T!" I screamed and reached for a glass of water, with water still in it, on the nightstand, and threw it at Noah with deadly precision.

Lucky for him, he was still standing by the door, so he managed to avoid getting hit by hiding behind a wall in the hallway, but the glass continued its course only to be stopped by the wall, and it shattered on impact, and so did I.

"GET OUT!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, getting off the bed, and headed for Scott's guitar before setting my sight on Noah. "Get out of my house before I hurt you, Stilinski."

"I'm..."

"And don't you dare say a word, or I WILL hurt you," I added with a deeper, low tone.

Something must have told Noah that I meant what I said, and I did, because he nodded after a moment and went away, but I didn't miss the silent tears that fell down his cheeks, and they said what I didn't allow him to say.

As long as words were not spoken, though, there was still a chance, I told myself.

To ensure that Noah left, I followed him downstairs, although every step I took felt heavier than the last, or were they getting lighter, I wasn't sure, and I didn't care.

We arrived downstairs and I saw Noah to the door.

He tried to say something once he was on the other side of the front door, but I shut the door in his face, right before my legs gave out, and I fell to my knees and proceeded to sit down with my back to the door, and placed the guitar beside me before I completely broke down and cried.

I cried so hard that rain began to pour, joining me, but I didn't hear it, all that I heard were Noah's unsaid words that promised hopelessness and a reason not to continue living.

All I felt was the coldness that told me the best of me was no more, and then the coldness turned into despair, and I didn't want to live anymore.

The empty house filled with my sobs that turned to screams and then sobs again seemed to be getting colder and telling me I was all alone now, that my reason to keep on going was no more, but I refused to believe that my Scott was gone.

Noah never said it, it was just a feeling.

It had to be.

It had to be just a feeling, a terrible and soul-breaking feeling resulting from not eating, or sleeping, much, if at all.

It had to be because my son couldn't be de... He couldn't be... He couldn't be that which I refused to even think.