Today had been most trying.

He didn't know what to expect. Apparently it was his turn to see the shrink. The counselor, oh bless her soul may she help them have some semblance of good mental health. But, it was seriously doubted. All the shit that was going on. He couldn't expect any less than a F on mental health. Fuck that, they all were getting Zs. Nerves getting to him. Stiles begins to restring the mesh of his lacrosse stick while awaiting the session to start. Or more of, the lady to come back in. Ms. Morrell seemed sweet enough that she didn't mind his fidgeting. His mess of abnormally sparked movements and dancing eyes, not trying to show interest in all this.

The silence between them was deafening for Stile. He didn't know where to start again when she came back down and sat at her desk with her pleasant, but unreadable smile. He just began. Because, that's what Stiles does. He fills the silence.

"You know, when you're drowning you don't really inhale until right when you black-out." Straight to the point, he seemed to get her attention. Nearly, analytic honey brown eyes watching him with great interest as he fastened his mesh, working and twiddling his slender fingers. "It's called voluntary apnoea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. Then when you finally do let it in that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore, it's…it's actually kinda peaceful."

The Counselor barely moved besides to fold her hands against her suited stomach, "Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

Stiles looked up at her with a big sigh. "I don't feel sorry for him." Curiously, the Counselor lifted her hand beneath her chin. "Can you feel sorry for the nine year old Matt who drowned?"

He shuffled the lacrosse stick in his lap and moved it about. No, in a way he couldn't. He had faced the working of lack of recognition, registration when he was bullied a few times. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing 'em one by one." Things may haven't in his favor or people were douchebags, but that didn't mean blood was the answer. The Counselor hummed a soft inquisitive breath. He couldn't tell if she was agreeing or disagreeing, and it made him nervous. Nervous made him talk more and the words continued to spill from his lips. He figured here, he could talk as much as he wanted. "And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though, I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing, ya' know like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Ms. Morrell couldn't help but smile. "One positive thing came out of this though right?"

Stiles nodded. Thinking of his Dad, Sheriff was his life. That at least helped, but it didn't help much. It didn't help the void.. "Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us. Ya know, it's just like tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott."

"Have you talked to him since that night?"

Stiles shook his head. "No not really, I mean he's got his own problems to deal with though. I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, ya know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer." What was he and Scott gonna do about the hunters. Things weren't in their advantage as always. And Allison wasn't exactly seeming to want to be around Scott. And because that now Scott's all kinds of fucked up in the head. He didn't know what the hell to think and where they would take their step next, besides trying to fix things with Derek. And that was totally going swell. He rubbed a hand over his head, "Jackson…" Fucking Jackson. "Jackson hasn't really been himself lately."

Thinking about, "Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal." Ironic as that sounds.

But the next question took him off guard.

"And what about you Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about the championship game tomorrow night?

Chewing on his lacrosse stick absentmindedly, he scrunched his face some. "Why would you ask me that?" He peers down at the mesh in his mouth, "Oh…. uh no. I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?" The optimism in mind always did help.

The Counselor seemed to come with straight-forward words. "You mean Isaac? One of the three runaways. You haven't…heard from any of them have you?"

He straightened his lacrosse stick. A deflection, smooth as cream on the pies that he made for his Pops. He gestured towards her desk with genuine confusion, "How come you're not taking any notes on this?"

"I do my notes after the session."

Not believing, he questioned, "Your memory's that good?"

"How 'bout we get back to you."

Stiles sighs and looks down. This is the part he was internally dreading. The void swelled at the chance to expose itself. To show how ugly he was. How weak he was..

"Stiles…" Hearing his name, he looks back up at her and shakes his head. "I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen." He swallowed, biting at his bottom lip.

"It's called hypervigilance. The persistant feeling of being under threat." She explained with ease, her voice sounding so comforting right then.

"I mean, it's not just a feeling though, alright, it's…it's like it's a panic attack, ya know, like I can't even breathe." Panic attacks had been the horror of him when he was younger. The thought of them, his mother, his every displacement in it all was just overwhelming. The sensations were coming back again and it was terrible. He wanted to move forward. He didn't want to step back and fall, and be swallowed up…

He didn't expect her words to seem so knowing. So precise with her chosen analogy.

"Like you're drowning?"

"…Yeah."

"So, if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very, last, moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth, to not let the water in?"

He shifted. Uncomfortable for a moment as he shifted, and looks down, confused as his thoughts tried to make themselves certain once more. "You do anyway, it's a reflex."

"But, if you hold off, until that reflex kicks in, you have more time right?" He raises his eyebrows, the thought never really occurring to him. Not realizing that the pessimism was brimming just beneath his flare, "Not much time."

"But more time to fight your way to the surface…"

Frustrated, he shrugged. "I guess…"

"…More time to be rescued."

She wasn't getting it, was she? "More time to be in agonizing pain, I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?

"If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?" Still, she challenges his words. She challenges the resolve he made of his thoughts.

"I mean, what if it just gets worse?" He stutters, his eyes looking to her with a pleading eye. Why wasn't she getting it? Did she have an answer? "What if it's agony now and then…and then it's just Hell later on?"

The Counselor's brown face smiled at him. As if she saw something that pleased her within him. Something that he didn't see, "Then think about something Winston Churchill once said, 'If you're going through hell…keep…going.'"

"B-but I can't.." His hand fell against his hands, touching his forehead. He felt the tears welling in his eyes just like before. His chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly, but his breath he tried to keep steady. The Counselor's gentle voice seemed persistent as if she new so much. "Then find away you can.. Make your mark.. "

"I can't do what they do… I just can't.." Not even realizing the words slipped so effortlessly from his mouth.

"You just need a guide.. But, you have to know what you want.."

What did he want? There was so many things he wanted right now. He wanted everything to be right. Just everything to be like it was before. Hell, the werewolf business wasn't as bad as this, but each and every day it becoming even more difficult to deal with. The master-brain he harbored could only place him only toe-to-toe with their foes, not ahead. And he surely couldn't do much being all but eighty something pounds and filled with sarcasm. There was no amount of Adderall to make his hands stop shaking. There was no pill that could make his night's sleep well. Nor anything else to make him feel that he could reconnect with his Dad or Scott. He just wanted everyone to be okay. Stiles knew his heart was too big for his immaculate chest. All of these feels were just too much of a burden at a time like this.. Still he couldn't tell want he wanted. Nothing he would ever want would put him in place to make sure things were okay. He didn't know what he wanted..

"What do you need?"

What he needed? He needed to find some way to contribute. He needed some way he could be certain that when he was with everyone. They didn't worry for him, as he did them. They didn't need to defend him, as he wanted to do them.. He needed

"Power."

She smiled then..

"And what would you do with this power..?"

"Help."

"No, what would you?" She challenged once again.

"Protect."

OH YEA! So like.. The Chap names are my recommendations for musics? Gloomy Sunday - Emilie Autumn cover. And Judith by A Perfect Circle. x:

Hope you like, be gentle with meeeee~