I don't belong here, I growled angrily at myself as I chipped away at the metallic paint on the frame of my bed, not anymore. Not anymore. I used to be, I used to be a fucking lunatic and maybe back then I would've accepted it if my mom had carted me off to some asylum, but now not so much – now I have proof that I was right all along! Not that I remember much of it, but I'm definitely not crazy, nope! I hate it that I'm stuck here for god knows how long because I'm not crazy! Why won't anyone believe me?

I saw what I saw, I don't remember a lot of what happened and I don't remember how I ended up in the woods, but I do remember the heavy weight on my chest as I struggled to breathe, and I most certainly remember the two, deep crimson eyes that pierced through the bushes, the bared fangs. I remember the fear that coursed through me but I also remembered the acceptance – I'd known all along that there was something larger than I, using me as a mere puppet, but I had no idea that they would look so… inhuman.

Of course I didn't tell anyone right away, it wasn't until I began to have nightmares that my mom actually found out about it. She took me to a doctor the next morning and I was so scared, was I insane? I'm not! I'm not insane! I didn't mean to hit her! I don't know where the knife came from… that voice, it told me that she thought I was crazy, it told me that she hated me! It told me to do it. I told you, I'm like a puppet.

No one will listen to me about it though, it's why I only ever allow myself to think about it at four in the morning when I can't sleep. Like now. My thoughts get extremely jumbled and scary at this time of night, but I can barely stop myself from thinking them – that doesn't mean I'm crazy though because I'm at least 80% sure most people are like that. But nonetheless apparently I'm considered crazy, because if I wasn't then I wouldn't be here.

I hate it here, it's only my second day and I've already been interrogated and threatened. No one likes me, although I could have already told you that would happen before I even step foot in this place. But it could be because I've not talked to many people, out of the six other patients here I've only held a conversation with two, one with Lydia and one with Isaac – Isaac seems to like me, at least I hope he does because I really like him. As a friend. Of course. Definitely as a friend. I refuse to let myself crush on this guy after two days of knowing of his existence. Aside from the patients I've talked to Stiles and Derek, Derek seems intimidating and Stiles seems nice but I don't know if he actually likes me, then there's Jackson. He definitely doesn't like me, but from what I hear he doesn't like anyone so I guess-

"I'm sorry," I heard a faint whimper, drawing me from my intense inner monologue. I glanced up from where I was lying face-down on the bed towards the body a few feet from me; he had his blanket pulled right up to his face and his body was visibly shaking underneath the thin material, his hair was drenched in sweat and stuck to his forehead in small, curly clumps. "I can't fix this, I-I'm sorry, I'll…try harder….next time."

"Isaac?" I whispered, pushing myself off my bed and sitting upright before I leant forward to get a closer look at him. His face was white as a sheet, stained with the thin trails from the tears dampening his pillow. He continued to shake and softly cry as he dreamt – well it seemed more like a nightmare rather than a dream but whatever.

"I'm sorry Dad, I'll do better, I wi- NO!" he shrieked suddenly and began to thrash his arms around in the blanket as he tried to escape, I jumped back in surprise and he jolted upright (having apparently scared himself awake). His breathing was deep and heavy and his eyes were bulging out of his head in both shock and fear. I paused for a few moments, wondering whether I should say anything to him but before I could even come to a decision his head fell into his hands and he began to weep.

"Isaac," I repeated, my voice slightly louder this time as I laid my hand on his shoulder. He flinched at my touch but it was enough to draw him away from his hands and look at me, his beautiful blue eyes full of sadness and betrayal. "Are you okay?"

He hesitated, taking a second longer than it should to process the question, but eventually he nodded and forced a smile onto his face, "yeah th-thanks," he lied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, "it's just something that happens sometimes, probably should have told you about that. I'm sorry I woke you…"

"It's fine," I smiled warmly at him, desperately trying to get him to calm down – I wasn't very good at cheering people up but the least I could do was try, right? "You didn't wake me anyway, I couldn't sleep."

"Well, I guess that's one good thing," he chuckled, casting his gaze to the floor as the slight glimmer of amusement died away, taking any chance of conversation with it.

We sat in silence for a few minutes longer, neither of us really knowing how to fill the gap – I was far too tired and awkward to think of anything, and Isaac, well his nightmares seemed a private thing that only he really knew about, but now I've moved in and I know about them, he must feel so violated right now. That poor guy.

"I think, I…" Isaac mumbled, a tear rolling silently down his cheek as his sentence died on his tongue, only to be replaced by a heavy sob. His body seemed to collapse in on itself as he cried, his shoulders shaking from both fear and the tension in which he was holding himself with. I automatically darted over to him and wrapped my arm comfortingly around his shoulder, waiting for him to calm down before I said anything.

Except he didn't really calm down, he cried and cried for what seemed like hours and all I could do was hug him and rub his back and tell him it was going to be okay. How pathetic. Eventually his sobs died away and a wave of tiredness visibly swept over him, I didn't even get to open my mouth before his eyes closed and he fell asleep in my arms.

I sighed, knowing that I wasn't going to be able to move without waking him up. So of course I did what any normal person would do, I kissed the top of his sweat-drenched hair and curled my fingers around his, "it'll be okay, Isaac," I repeated for the fiftieth time tonight, running my thumb over one of the scars on his shoulder idly, "I promise."

Ughhhh I hate this chapter so much, after I stopped typing Scott's ramblings about why he was (not) crazy I lost all inspiration. Scisaac is so fucking hard to write oh man ;-;

Also I know I said I'd have this up like a million years ago but I found it extremely difficult to write because Asking Alexandria released their new album so I've been busy crying over that also I've been playing Minecraft also I've been reading Game of Thrones also I've been complaining to tumblr about my life problems so y'know (my url is danielshowerman if you want to check out my shitty blog ;DDDD)

New episode tomorrow though yay who's excited for the blood shed and emotions? I know I'm not (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ彡┻━┻