Stiles Stilinski: A Sad Tale

Chapter 2: Hold On

Stiles weeped and sobbed into his hands. He started getting more and more breathless. Panic attack? He thought, but no, it was different, but only slightly. He still had that same level of bad anxiety he would have if he was having a panic attack. But it wasn't just anxiety, it was anger. He was angry at life. He was angry at life for sucking so much.
He stood up, his face and hands were soaked with his own tears. He picked up his lamp, gripping it so tightly he felt like the metal might actually bend, and threw it at the wall opposite. He screamed while doing it, and watched as the lamp hit the wall, taking off some of the paint, and it landed on his dresser, knocking other objects over.
"Stiles? What was that?" Stiles had almost completely forgotten that his dad was home. "Stiles?" He didn't answer, and soon enough he heard his dad's footsteps coming closer and closer to his bedroom, until the door opened with a quiet creak.
"Stiles what was tha-" he stopped speaking when he clasped eyes on his son. But what stood in front of him wasn't just his son, it was his broken son.
"Dad..." Stiles began, but started once again to sob into his hands.
"Stiles, what's wrong?" the Sheriff said, taking a step towards his fragile son.
Stiles took his hands away from his face and became more angry then any of his other emotions, "Everything!" He shouted, "Everything's turning to shit, and I can't stop it!"
"Stiles-" He turned his back to his dad, ashamed of what he was making him look at.
"There's no point in ANYTHING!" His throat went raw after screaming that last word, and he turned to his dresser, and threw yet another object at the wall.
The sheriff stepped forward and embraced Stiles. Stiles sobbed uncontrollably into his father's chest, and his legs gave way, causing his dad to struggle to keep his son on his feet, to keep him above water. Because he wasn't going to let go, he wasn't going to let his son drown.