SANITY | STILES STILINSKI

6 | Not Exactly Free

  "I won't fight you, it looks puerile to me, but I can ignore and forget you till you wonder if you still exist."
― MICHAEL BASSEY

GABRIELLE APLIN ; SALVATION

VI. NOT EXACTLY FREE

I trotted up the seemingly endless staircase of my house, making a complete beeline for my room and shutting the door. I felt heavy, like something was weighing me down. Something I couldn't quite describe consumed me, it was too big for words and it was bigger than me.

Throwing my bag onto the floor, I plopped down onto my bed, unlocking my phone. Opening messages, I literally flinch at the number at the top of the screen, 378. For someone like myself, that number's almost scary when it comes to texts. Most of them Allison's spam, she called a couple times as well, other's from Scott and Stiles. I sighed, not replying to any of them.

A couple hours of and ten chemistry problems later, I begin to hear various sounds coming from downstairs. Quickly throwing my hair in a ponytail, I grab a long, narrow metal stick that had came out from the bottom of my bed, gripping it with my right hand as I slowly opened my bedroom door. The creak from hell that my room door always decided to make at the wrong times, sounded, the voices from my kitchen becoming clearer. Running down the steps, I headed for the kitchen, swinging in all different directions, the kitchen engulfed in complete darkness.

"Twelve, hey It's us!" A voiced shouted, their words muffled from under my screams.

"Stiles, Scott?" I inquired, flicking the lights on to see the two boys I call my friends shielding their heads, kneeling down on the tiled floor. "What the hell, you scared the shit out of me!"

Stiles snorted, nodding towards the metal stick that was still held above my head. "Yeah, we can see that."

I growled, smacking both their legs with my choice of a weapon and smirking when they let out various forms of pain. Throwing it on the space in between them, I take a seat on the granite counter top of my kitchen. "Why didn't you guys text me that you were coming or, I don't know, at the door? How the hell did you get into my house?"

Scott let out a nervous sigh, taking a seat next to me. "I broke the handle to your back door, plus Stiles thought that if we told you we were coming you'd find a way to make us not come."

I gave the werewolf a pointed look. "Yeah, I probably would've. I'm not exactly in the mood for company. But, my back door has a keyhole, not a handle."

"He means that we climbed through your kitchen window." Stiles said nonchalantly, like this was normal, as he pointed to the open window.

"Ah, I see," I nodded, shoving Scott's shoulder. "Why didn't you just tell me that?"

"Because that's a lot more creepy!" He admitted, moving away from me.

"Anyways Twelve, Scotty and I need your help." Stiles interrupted, opening up my fridge.

I cocked a brow, "Once again, you guys could've texted me this, but, with what exactly?"

"We have to go back to the school, werewolf boy here needs to go on the wrecked bus, where the accident happened."

Scott nods. "Derek says I need to go back, I need to feel in order to remember."