chapter two; the guilt

SHUT UP

Please shut up Stiles begged himself. He had been blissfully dissociating up until a minute ago when she crossed his mind. When she walked up beside him in his bed with that smile that used to warm him. The hallucination always started the same, she'd give him that smile and then touch his cheek, saying it wasn't his fault. Then he'd watch the maroon blood slowly leak out of her stomach and watch her die all over again.

Though he should be grateful, sometimes it wasn't her and it was Aiden. Though when he showed up he never smiled, too much dried up blood in his mouth to paste a grin on.

"Please go away," he begged, flipping to face the other side of his room. Today it was Allison, but she wasn't talking. She just stared. Which was much more unsettling.

It had been only two weeks since she died, well, tomorrow would be the two week mark since. Though it felt like it had been much longer to him, it felt like he'd been suffocating in his guilt for years. So much where he almost couldn't remember how he lived before.

He didn't go to Allison's funeral, or Aiden's pack memorial. Couldn't bare to look at the friends and family he'd taken them away from. He'd snuck out a few times in the middle of the night to visit them on his own, but other then that his bed had become his safety, his shelter from the world.

Allison got an early offer from Penn State, all but begging her to join after she graduated. Stiles knew this because he'd hacked his way into finding it out, dug around Allison's email in what he called curiosity, not self sabotage. She'd gotten a real chance to get out of this shitty town and he'd taken it away. All those people she was destined to be friends with, the classes empty of her presence.

He'd robbed her of that. Killed her and broken any of her dreams beyond repair.

And Scott, god, he was going to marry her. Stiles knew they would've ended up together. They were destined to spend the rest of their lives together, raise perfect little babies in a perfect picket fence house. He'd robbed his brother any chance with the girl he loved.

Lydia only applied to Penn because Allison did. She had the grades to go anywhere she damn well pleased, but she applied there to follow her best friend. In a way he robbed any chance of being cool aunt lyds. God he hated himself.

He ruined everything. His mother died because of him, his father lost years of his life to alcohol because of him and now barely slept because of him. He brought Scott into the supernatural world, he let himself get possessed. He was a failure, a disappointment. Even to himself.

"Son? You up?" Noah knocked.

It took a moment for his brain to register he was being spoken to. Just the way his brain processed and began forming his words took too much out of him. How was he supposed to survive?

"Stiles?"

"Yeah," The boy replied finally, his tongue feeling like sandpaper, his mouth dry and morning breath finding a home in his mouth.

His dad opened the door, walking in and sitting at the end of his bed. "You killed them" he said with nothing but disgust in his voice.

Stiles's eyes widened, some energy hitting him like electricity. That was the first time his dad had even mentioned what happened. Had he finally realized he was not worth his time? Maybe send him back to Eichen.

"Schools starting soon" His dad said, any anger disappearing, maybe it had never been there, Stiles wasn't sure anymore what he was hearing was true. "You alright?" of course he wasn't.

Once Noah realized he wouldn't be getting an answer out of him he stood up, putting a hand on Stiles's shoulder. "You've got to stop beating yourself up," he sad with a look of despair. He waited a few moments incase he'd say anything, he didn't. "Go get dressed, I'll make you something to eat and drop you off at school. No more self pity, you're going".

If he had any energy he would have argued, maybe start screaming. But he wasn't there mentally. He could go to school for a day, plaster on a goofy grin, keep his talking to yes and no, if it would give his dad peace of mind. It was the least he could do it for his dad.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧･ﾟﾟerase me. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧･ﾟﾟ

Some of the times when he went to visit Allison and Aiden's graves he felt like someone was watching him, and before he would've been worried but after the first time ended up being Allison following him he no longer found it in him to tell her to fuck off.

Today was one of those days where he could feel her shadow trailing behind his every step. And he knew he was supposed to feel bad but something about having her, despite it not being real, felt comforting.

"Stiles" Scott called out to him from across the hallway, he, Lydia, and new to the pack Malia stood against his locker as Stiles was sure they had everyday the past two weeks, waiting, just in case he showed up.

He knew his friends didn't blame him, or at least not to his face. But he kept expecting one of them to crack and start yelling at him.

"Hey," he said, his mouth already tasting like iron from biting his tongue so hard. His hands trembled while he put in the lock combination and popped it open.

Lydia was looking at him with her usual dopey, upside-down smile. "You haven't been back in a while, we though maybe you dropped out or something" she admitted.

"I tried to come over, your dad said you weren't home but I could hear your heartbeat. I could smell salt" Malia said in her pure confused coyote turned human way. And he loved her bluntness but something about it being used toward him felt exposing.

Scott put a hand on his shoulder, though Stiles could see the hesitation before the gesture. If he was him he wouldn't want to put his hand on the person that killed his girlfriend either. Breakup aside.

Stiles sent him the best smile he could conjure, "Yeah. Needed some time," the bell rang, "I'm gonna be late" he said already walking away from the group and cursing at his shaky hands and the tightness already forming in his chest. He was better than this, he could do better than this. He killed her yes but they all lost her. He could be better than this.

He took his usual spot in the back of the class, grabbed a pen from his bag and begun clicking on the top over and over to give him something to focus on other then the looks people were giving him. Click, click, click. Click, click, click over and over again, a similar pattern to the beating of his heart.

"Class we have a new student, please, introduce yourself" Mrs Watson said, breaking the loop of the pen Stiles had been finding comfort in.

The girl was short, auburn hair tangling down to her chest. She looked around before settling her eyes onto him, it lasted a few seconds before she looked somewhere else.

"I'm Hope Marshall"