I don't even remember walking back to the house. After I saw the pine tree, it's all a blur until I'm dialing 911.
I finish heaving up my lunch and flush the toilet, before slumping over the wall. I let a few stray tears fall from my eyes.
"Stiles?" Derek is timidly standing at the doorframe, arms crossed.
I don't respond, I can't. I'm too busy gasping for air.
Suddenly it's like everything tilts, and I can't get my fuzzy vision to focus.
"Stiles?!" Derek shouts this time.
"Stiles, what's going on?"
I curl up in myself, rocking back and forth a bit.
In, out, in, out.
I can't focus my breathing.
"Stiles, breathe! C'mon. In-out-in-out. Just like me."
Slowly Derek helps me steady my breathing, but it takes a few minutes for me to be back to normal.
"What was that?"
"Panic attack."
"Are you okay?"
Silence.
I get up and go to the sink, turning it on and splashing some water on my face; I wipe my hands off on my jeans and head back to the living room, grabbing my backpack and keys. I wave goodbye to Derek, who still hasn't moved from the doorframe, and head out to my jeep.
It's not smart for me to be driving right now. I'm fighting back another attack the entire drive home, but I make it in one piece.
I'm so torn; I have no idea what to do.
I mean, I need to break up Lydia and Andy. No matter how awful she's been I can't let her date a guy like that.
Unfortunately, breaking them up is going to be practically impossible, since A) I'm not on speaking terms with her, B) Everyone already thinks I'm jealous and C) he terrifies me.
Unless I tell people what happened. But even then I'm not sure if they would believe me at this point.
That doesn't matter though, since I can't imagine getting the courage to speak up. I rub my eyes and grab my backpack before exiting my jeep.
I go straight to my room, avoiding my dad; he doesn't need to see me like this.
Once I'm up in my room I tear off my jeans and climb into bed. I don't bother with showering or even brushing my teeth. I just curl up in a ball and lie in my dark room, staring at nothing until the sun comes back up.
I spend the weekend trying to figure out how to get Lydia and Andy apart, but my mind keeps telling me the same thing over and over 'you have to tell them'.
It's like once I heard about them, they were everywhere.
On Monday when I was walking to my locker I saw them at the other end of the hall, leaned against the lockers, flirting. I dashed into the janitors closet and stayed there for the 20 minutes until first period. I just curled in on myself and rocked a bit, feeling so trapped.
I ended up being a few minutes late to first period, greeted with a smug look from Harris.
"Mr. Stilinski, mind telling us what was so important that you missed the first 5 minutes of my PowerPoint?"
Oh nothing, just trying to get over the fact that a girl I used to be close friends with is dating my….he person that really hurt me.
I just give him a blank stare and take my seat.
"Well, since you were nice enough to finally getting around to joining us, would you mind giving the class an example of a binary compound?"
Magnesium oxide, sodium chloride, sodium fluoride.
I just held my stare but said nothing.
Harris was starting to get annoyed, I could tell.
"Well, Mr. Stilinski, since you seem to love disrupting the class," silence is a big distraction, apparently, "I'm going to have to send you to the principals office."
I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head, before scooting back my chair and grabbing my books. I was about halfway to the door when a girl called out.
"Wait! Mr. Harris, he's not challenging you. He doesn't talk ever, he's like mute."
I know, or think at least, that she meant well, but I'm pretty sure things just got 10x worse.
"Stiles Stilinski, mute? Have you met him?" Harris laughs.
"Have you?" Asks a boy from the back row, and wow, this is not happening. I decide I've hear enough and turn on my heel, heading straight for the principals office.
"ah yes, Mr. Stilinski," the office attendant greets me, "I just got an e-mail from Mr. Harris, something about apparent refusal to speak?"
I nod a tiny bit and take a seat, waiting for my turn to speak with the new principal, who I hadn't even met yet. The most annoying part is that before I found out about Lydia and Andy, I was slowly starting to speak again. Or at least, I had an outburst with Derek, and said a few words to my dad. But still, it was progress. And now I feel myself shutting down again, when my words would matter the most.
"Mr. Sti-lin-ski?" The principal had trouble reading my name and I walk into his office, awkwardly taking a seat.
"So, I hear you were late to class and you refused to speak when your teacher asked you to?" I looked up from the floor, in confirmation and the principal started typing away on his Stone Age computer.
"I have reports that last week you were sent to the guidance counselor for lack of speech, but dashed out of the room mid-session."
I shrugged sheepishly.
He typed something again, before sighing.
"Unfortunately, I have no choice but to call your parents."
My eyes widened and I shook my head frantically.
It's not that I was afraid of getting in trouble, it's that my dad had enough on his plate without having to deal with this.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stilinski, it's protocol."
He clicked the mouse a few times, "ah here it is," he said, when my contact information loaded, and I could see a flash of guilt on his face for a moment. I knew what he saw on my contact page.
Father: John Stilinski
Mother: N/A, deceased
He picks up his phone and dials my house number, but no one answers because my dads at work. So then he tries my dads cell, no response, before finally calling the sheriffs office.
"Yes, hello Sir. This is Principal Anderson at Beacon Hills High, I'm calling on behalf of your son Stiles."
Theirs a quick pause, and I could kill just to hear what my fathers saying.
"No, no, your son is alright, no need to worry."
Figures my dads first concern would be my safety, I feel even guiltier.
"Yes, unfortunately your son was sent to the principals office by his chemistry teacher Mr. Harris."
I've complained to my dad about Harris so many times, it's actually a positive that he's the one that sent me to the office I guess.
"Yes, apparently your son was late to class, and refused to tell his teacher why. In fact, he refused to speak at all."
Another pause.
"Yes, I heard of the incident in the counselors office last week too."
Pause.
"Of course sir, I'll see you then."
He hangs up the phone, "your father should be here in about 15 minutes."
And Oh God, dad is leaving work for this. Just what he needs, more reason to put his job at stake.
I close my eyes and chew on my lip, staring at nothing until I hear the door open behind me and my father walks in, still in his Sheriffs uniform.
"Stiles." His voice is stern, mixed with a hint of worry.
God, can you drown in guilt?
I can't meet his eyes and turn away, ashamed.
"Your son hasn't said a word since his arrival in the office," he pauses for a moment and give me a worried look, "he has been very cooperative though."
My dad nods and glances at me.
"Stiles, why won't you talk?"
The expression on his face when I wouldn't speak to him either was heart wrenching.
"Well, we're only going to give your son a detention for being tardy to class," everyone knew that wasn't the real issue here, "as for his refusal to speak, we're going to have to sign him up for more sessions at the counselors office. They'll be mandatory. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays during his lunch hour. Unlike last time, if he leaves mid session, he'll be punished the same way he would be if he were to leave in the middle of a class."
My dad nods, "what about counseling outside of school? He used to see a woman after his mother passed." My father asks, speaking as if I wasn't two feet away from him.
I shake my head frantically, I am not seeing a shrink again, that's for damn sure. It would be nothing but a waste of my father's money.
"We can see how his sessions with Ms. Morrell go, and if theirs no improvement with him, then yes, I would recommend external counseling."
My father nods and lets out a sigh, running his hands through his hair.
"Okay, that sounds good.
The principal turns to me; "We're going to send you back to class now. It's almost second period so you should just head in that direction, and then after school you'll stay for detention for an hour."
I nod, and glance at my dad.
He doesn't look mad, just confused and upset.
I head out the door, but instead of going to my locker I head to the janitors closet, and just sit on the floor and breathe. I take out my notebook and place one of my tree drawings in the corner of the closet, since it had become my favorite hiding spots.
The bell rings and I leave the janitors closet and grab my books for second period. I hear whispers pass me down the hall, and it's not the usual ones directed at me. It's people talking about me. Apparently news of what happened in Harris' class was spreading like wildfire. Which was stupid, because nothing exciting happened.
I feel eyes on me all day and I hate it. The only bright side about spending lunch in Morrell's office is that I wont have to deal with the stares and whispers.
"Nice to see you again, Milczacy."
I take my seat and say nothing.
"It looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other.' She comments, flipping through a binder.
"Is there a reason that you've decided to stop speaking?"
Silence.
"Has something happened?"
Silence.
She nods even thought I didn't say anything.
"You know, selective mutism is rare, especially in adults. Well, young adults, I suppose," she glances at a file, "you turn 17 later this week."
Oh, I had actually forgotten about my birthday.
"Now are you not talking on purpose, to prove a point of sorts, or do you feel as though you can't talk. Like speech scares you."
She must've noticed my flinch because she purses her lips and nods, writing something down.
"What scares you, Milczacy?"
I swallow, and my eyes dart around the room.
We both stay silent until the bell rings.
At the end of the day I go to Harris' room for detention, but he just waves me away.
I guess he realized that what my classmates said was true and I really don't talk.
I drive straight home, knowing my father would've taken the day off to talk to me.
I park the car right next to his squad car, but don't get out of the car. Instead I just grip onto the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. I feel like curling in on myself. I wish I could just crawl into the depths of my brain and hide away from the real world.
It takes me a few moments to calm and then I sluggishly tread into the house, my dad isn't waiting for me in the living room like I expected him to be, so I just take a seat on the couch and wait for him nervously.
My mind wanders and all I can think about his how I need to tell somebody. I'm being selfish by not, by letting Lydia just date a guy like that. For letting a guy like that roam free. What if he did it again? It would be my fault.
I hate feeling so weak, it's just three little words but I can't will myself to say them.
I wonder what people would think of me, I wonder what my mother would think of me,
I wonder how she'd feel if she knew I was being selfish enough to keep this secret.
"Stiles?" I hear my father call, and look up to see him walking down the stairs.
I blink a few times and feel stray tears fall from my eyes.
"Stiles, what's…why are you crying?"
I take one look at him and just lose it. I go from a few tears to a gushing waterfall, whimpers included.
My dad hugs me immediately, "hey, hey it's alright, it's okay. I'm here, I've got you."
I keep crying as he holds me and finally muster a "dad?"
"Yeah?" He whispers back and I let out another whimper as fresh tears fall from my eyes.
"Do you think mom would be proud of me?"
The question completely catches him off guard. He probably thought I was upset over what happened at school. Plus we rarely spoke about my mom.
It was one of those moments where the difference in who we lost hangs in the air. My father lost his wife, and I lost my mother. And while we both loved her and both miss her, they're two completely different people to lose.
It's like how on mother's day my father gets awkward around me, or how on their anniversary each year I try my best to avoid him.
I'm wondering what impression my dead parent would have of me, and my father is at a slight loss for words for a moment.
"If she saw who I see, someone who cares about those around him as much as you do. Someone as smart or as brave as you, then yes I know for a fact she's be proud of you. I know I am, even when you upset me, even when you… I'm proud and she would be too."
Brave.
I knew then that I had to tell someone.
A/N: Thank you AGAIN for all your kind reviews! Some of you have pointed out that my chapters are pretty short, and I'm trying to make them longer! The first few were all around one thousand words, but the past three have all been around 2 thousand, so they're slowly getting longer. Anyway, I know this chapter had a lot of filler and emotional turmoil, but more happens in the next chapter. And it may or may not end on a sliiiight cliffhanger.