I was familiar with silence. Over the past year or so, I had learned to welcome it. With silence came the numbness. Being numb meant nothing could hurt me. Not even my dad. But it's not the silence that breaks you. It's the darkness, isolation, pain.

I had been locked in this freezer more times than I could count on my fingers and toes. But that didn't make it any easier. Each time he locked me up, the freezer felt smaller, tighter, colder. The longer I stayed in here, the closer the walls got to me. They were crushing me; I was completely powerless, even with my werewolf abilities.

Time passed slowly. The rest of the world went about it's business while I was stuck, frozen (no pun intended) inside of this freezer. I heard nothing but the sound of my own breathing, as well as the occasional noise from my dad above me.

Something beeped, scaring me nearly out of my wits, when I realized that with all the chaos upstairs, my dad had neglected to check my pockets. I still had my phone. I pulled it out, only to find that the beeping was just a signal for low battery. Just then I heard the front door slam; my dad had left. Now was my chance.

I looked through the few contacts I had in my phone. Scott, Allison, Derek, Lydia, Ethan and Aiden were all no-go's. There was only one person I felt okay calling with something like this, and that was Stiles. I don't know why, but I trusted him. I felt safe with him, like I knew he would protect me when I needed help. I would do the same of course, but not many people would do that for me. I took a deep breath before I hit call. It rang four times.

"Talk to me." he answered. His voice was like rain, steady, calm.

"Stiles?" I said, barely above a whisper. I knew it was him, but I needed…I don't know…I just needed to ask. "It's Isaac."

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, suddenly sounding serious. "You sound…muffled."

"My dad. My dad, he—he…I can't get out. He locked it. I can't get out. I can't get out. I can't—" I was speaking rapidly, I kept forgetting to breathe.

"Isaac, slow down. Try and relax. I'm getting in my car now. Are you at your house?" He asked in a calm demeanor.

"Y—yes. Basement. Freezer. But there's…chains, and the front door's locked and I—I can't get out."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. I'll be there in less than 10 minutes. Just hold tight, okay? I'm going to get you out of there."

"Okay." I whispered.

"I'll see you soon." And then the line went dead.

I had ten minutes. It was only ten minutes. He's coming, Stiles is coming.

Ten minutes was too long.

The walls were getting closer and closer to me. The darkness was eating me alive, screaming into my ears, choking me. I clawed at the lid of the freezer, pounding until my fists were bloody. I kicked and screamed as hot tears escaped from the corners of my eyes and ran races down my temples. I cried. I cried for me. I cried for my mom. I cried for Camden. My older brother. My best friend.

"Isaac?" I barely heard him over my own sobs. "Isaac, hold on. I'm coming. Just hold on." He cried. I heard him moving things around in the basement, trying to find something to break the chains. I kept crying. I needed to get out.

I heard the chains rattle, and then fall to the ground. Stiles swung the lid open. Light pierced my eyes like spears, blinding me for a few seconds.

"Stiles?" I sobbed out.

"Yeah, I'm here, Isaac. I'm here." He told me. I felt him lift me up, swinging my arm over his shoulders. The pain in my left shoulder had not gone away, and had in fact intensified over the last few hours. The bruise had now fully developed, as had the bottle-sized welt.

I stood up, my legs numb and shaky from disuse.

"Come on." I heard him say. "It's alright."

I climbed out, nearly collapsing as I did so. Stiles caught me and guided me to the bottom of the stairs.

"I ca—I can't hold you up anymore. Let's rest here for a second, okay?" He said. I nodded, surprised at how long he did hold me up. We sat down, me against the wall and Stiles in front of me. I couldn't say anything, reality had set in and the realization of Cam never coming home again hit hard. New tears traced old paths down my cheeks and neck. I ran a hand through my hair, which was damp with sweat and tears. I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them as tight as I could. I squeezed my eyes shut and then forced them open again.

This couldn't be real. Cam wasn't really dead. He couldn't be. I needed him.

"Isaac…" I heard him say, his voice soothing and calm like it always was, like rain. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I can't.

"Do you need to talk about it?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were full of concern. Of understanding, of genuine kindness. Something I had never seen in my dad's eyes.

I nodded.

"Okay. You can tell me. You can trust me." Stiles placed his cool hand on my knee. I flinched out of instinct.

Relax, Isaac. He isn't Dad. He won't hurt you. He's one of the good guys.

I relaxed.

"Cam's gone." I whispered. It was barely audible, even to me.

"What?" he said, his voice low.

"He's dead…he's dead." Saying it out loud somehow solidified it. And it only made the hurt grow inside of me. "He's dead, Stiles, Cam's dead. He's—" my voice broke.

"Do—do you want to be alone?"

I hesitated. Tears burned my eyes. I bit my lower lip and shook my head, slowly at first, then almost violently. I buried my head in my knees and cried. I balled up my fists and pressed them to the sides of my head. I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me towards him. I did the same, wrapping my arms around him and holding tight.

I needed to hold on to something, someone who I knew wasn't going to leave me once they had their fill of Isaac Lahey, the broken and sad 17 year old boy. The boy who couldn't be in small rooms because he had spent half his life locked in a freezer. The boy who flinched every time someone moved too quickly or spoke too loudly. The boy who stuttered when he got nervous or anxious. The boy who's mom bailed on him and left him with Satan himself for a father. The boy who wasn't always an only child.

He pulled away to look me in the eyes. "It's not your fault. Camden is not your fault."

I shook my head, stifling another sob. "But my dad—"

"Your dad was wrong. It's nobody's fault."

I couldn't say anything without my voice shattering into a million pieces, so I stayed quiet, silently wishing he would continue. He did.

"I'm a talker. That's what I do, I talk. Since I was a kid I could talk myself in or out of anything. Bedtimes, homework, curfew. Hell, it landed me in the principal's office more than a few times but… you're not a talker. You're an action man. So I can only imagine what you've seen, what you've done, what you've had done to you. And I have to imagine not just because you're a man of few words, but the fewest words possible. So I fill in the blanks, we all do. So I don't know what to say. I don't know how to make this okay. Me, the man who talks. Some of that's on you for always being so closed up but way more it's on me. Because all my talk, and all that game…seems like kids stuff compared to who you are, what you've been. Like I've spent my whole life trying to get out of homework while you've lived the life of a warrior. Of a man. A real deal gladiator. So I have no idea what to say here. Because you make me realize pretty much every day and especially right now… that all I've ever been, all I am, all I've ever been…was talk. So I'll just sit here. And I won't run my mouth with a lot of noise that's not worthy. So you be, as full on crazy as you want for as long as you need and I'm going to be here. Right here with you." Stiles sniffed and blinked away tears that had blurred his vision.

"I don't know what to do." I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can…do it without him. I don't know if I'm strong enough." I looked up at him.

"Isaac you are one of the strongest people I have ever met. And I don't mean that in some cheesy, bromance kind of thing. I'm being completely honest. If anyone can make it to the end it's you, man."

"You mean it." I stated rather than asked. Because I listened. I didn't hear a single fault in his heartbeat. Not one. "Right?"

Stiles nodded and shot me a crooked smile. "I mean it. I'm gonna help you through this. We're all gonna help you. That's pack. That's family."

I smiled. He was right. This was pack. This was family.