Shattered Wings ⇢ teen wolf // stiles stilinski

Chapter Thirty-Three- Useless

He gripped the knife tighter as I backed towards the door.

"Dad, calm down. All he did was walk me home from the lacrosse game. I didn't say anything." I said calmly.

He relaxed his position. He began to turn away, "Okay, I believe you."

I sighed of relief. I closed my eyes to take a deep breath, but I heard something slice through the air right next to my head. I quickly opened them and turned around, oh my god. He almost chopped my head off.

I screamed as he came closer.

"You really think I would believe your silly, little lies?" He grinned, grabbing my shirt and pushing me against the door.

"I'm not lying. Please calm down, Dad-"

He chuckled, "Oh, I know what you are. Won't you tell your dad that little secret of yours?" He grinned and slid the knife down the right side of my face.

I gritted my teeth in pain, "That I accidentally got an A- on my math test yesterday?"

He laughed louder, "You know what I'm talking about. Or maybe I should just," He started sliding the knife down the left side of my face, deeper than before, "force it out of you."

I took some sharp breaths, "I'm not anything."

He started going slower, "Oh really? I know you have visions, get people's injuries, and sometimes heal faster than you should."

No. He can't-- he can't know.

"But that's not--"

He interrupted me, "Possible? Oh, yes it is. I hunt people like you. Or should I say, monsters like you."

My breath shuddered in fear and I felt a tear stream down my face. He got angry and pushed me against the other wall and I let out a whimper.

"I know all about your kind. Our family has been hunting them down for centuries. You really think I married your mom because I loved her? You were an accident." He said, pointing at me with his knife.

This can't be happening. I don't want to hear this anymore. I let another tear stream down my face.

"Aw, is my little baby crying? Here's another reason to cry. You really think your mother died of cancer?"

And like that, time seemed to stop. I was letting out short, uneven breathes. I started to panic.

My own father killed my mother. She didn't die of cancer. He-- he killed her. On purpose.

He chuckled and gripped my shirt tighter, "We're taking this to my office."

His office? I was banned from entering the office as a child.

Gripping my shirt, he pulled me along and walked into his office.

"You see, Isabel, This isn't just my work space." He started punching numbers into what I thought was a password for a safe. His bookshelf then turned over and there was a whole room behind it.

He forced me inside. There was everything. Knives, axes, bows and arrows, needles. There was a table with straps, a chair with straps. Even a table with a circle for the head.

While he was distracted with looking at things, I slowly pulled my phone out, hoping it would work for one second at least.

Wrong. Gotta love technology.

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't want any of your friends coming to save you." He slapped the phone out of my hand and grabbed me by the wrist. He forced me into the chair and started tying and locking everything.