I Am Not Afraid / Stiles Stilinski / discontinued

[5] What he knows

      AS THE SUN made it's a way through the window, hitting Stiles in the face. You'll think he'll wake up peacefully? Wrong, the boy's breath hitched and his body crumbled with sweat. Images from what he saw the Nogitsune, Void, do with his body, frighten the boy. He woke of gasping for air, sitting up his hand clutched the blanket over him. Remembering the events from his dreams- Stiles's body released a shiver down his spine.

Laying back into the bed. Stiles looked up to the ceiling. He was catching the feeling of dysania, the feeling of it being extremely hard to get out of bed in the morning. He may have had a night terror, but his body didn't, no couldn't find the strength to get up. Until a world-class jackass walked in.

"Ah, lookie, lookie, foxie is awake." Stiles coughed at the nickname. It caught him off guard and he didn't like being called that. Not after what Void did to him.

"Don't call me that. And- why are you even in here?" Stiles moved so his elbows and forearms were holding him up.

"Nah-ah-ah, I get to call you whatever I want." Damon smirked at the teen, "And your Daddio wanted me." Damon points at himself like he was very important, "To get you, out of bed."

Stiles huffed before throwing the covers off him. Seeing as he only wore sweats to bed. His chest and back were showing- to the name stranger before him. Scars lingered across his body, some from Gerard, some from the Alpha pack, and lastly some from Void. Stiles glanced at his open computer tap. Seeing as if was research on the Adarna. Stiles closed his laptop not wanting Damon to see what's on it.

"What the hell is up with those scars?" The yet known vampire, Damon asked Stiles.

Stiles shooked his head, "Life." Was all he said before gesturing Damon to leave.

Not caring if the Salvatore left the room. Stiles took off his sweats and slide on some skinny jeans. As he pulled the pants up, someone coughed. Stiles turned to see Damon shaking his head and someone new was in the room. Stiles folded his arms and looked at the two. I mean can't they see he's trying to change. He still doesn't even have his shirt on... The teen is also still pissed about everything that happened.

His temper and trust could be seen as a string. That string used to be bright gold, showing all the care he had. But now, over time it grew into a grey hue. It became small and was close to breaking. The string was hissing and suffering from the pain that his family gave him. They, hurt him. But unlike them, he could last an eternity in torture to protect them. Waste nights for rest, to help his family. Give everything he ever had to them. He could get kidnapped and never spill a word about them. His lips could be sewed together for all the kidnappers knew.
And yet, after only for half- a day, they gave him up. Only one of them was truly being tortured. The rest were too scared to do anything. While Stiles was tortured for longer than a day by Gerard. Yet, he didn't slip a single thing about his pack, his family.

In simple terms. Stiles felt betrayed, for he put too much hard work and faith in people who'll rat him out in seconds. While it'll take years for him to do.

With this only happening two days ago. Stiles was in a sour mood. Call him a sour fox if you wanted, yet that'll remind him of Derek. But it'll also remind him of the Void. Everyone thought he opened his mind to Void, just to save Malia. That was a half-truth. There's more to the story, more to why he was suffering so much. Because his mind wasn't the only thing in the crossfire, his heart was too.

"What," Stiles said to the men before him. Well, he mostly snapped at them.

"I was just leaving. And my brother here-" Damon put his brother on the spot, "Was here to introduce himself, but seeing as you're changing. We're going to take our leave." Damon elbowed the other man's side, "Right, Stefan."