My mom broke all the dishes that day. The day I watched everything fall out from beneath me. The day I ran away from home. Those wretched twenty four hours flashed through my mind every time I closed my eyes, as though they were a movie playing endlessly on the back of my eyelids.
I woke up to the sound of sobs trying to be held back escaping my mother's chapped lips accompanied by her husband's yelling. "I do everything!" He shouted. "I pay the bills, I buy our groceries, I pay for your daughter's stupid volleyball club and I take care of the house!" He screamed. I was too scared to leave my room, afraid of the scene I would stumble upon if I did. I thought the warmth of my bed would protect me. "Meanwhile all you do is sit on your ass and knit all fucking day!" I heard the sound of glass shattering outside my door, causing me to jump and pull the covers over my head. My mother's sobs grew louder with every word he yelled. I'm not entirely sure when I started crying, but I know that I couldn't stop.
My door swung open, letting my step dad stumble in. "Please," my mother cried from the living room. "Please stop!"
I sat still on my bed, paralyzed with fear, as the drunk pointed his finger at me. "You," he said with so much disgust even I hated myself. "You worthless, lazy, unmotivated little-" His voice trailed off and he took a couple of clumsy steps towards me. "You ungrateful bastard!"
Bastard. That's what my real father called me when he left. He wrote a letter explaining how he couldn't raise a child out of wedlock and left me home alone at the ripe age of four years old, waiting for my mother to come home from work. I was only four at the time, but my mom had kept the letter and I have read it an abundance of times. But something about the way my step dad thought he had the right to call me a bastard made me snap.
"I'm the ungrateful one?" I spoke instinctively, having no idea where I was going with this. "I'm not the one leaving an amazing woman who loves me in hysterics on the floor!" I shouted. Surprised at my newly found courage, I stood up and pointed my finger accusingly at him like he had done to me moments before. "All you've done since the day you married my mom is verbally attack us!" I yelled. Tears were falling down my faces as though my cheeks were rivers. "Every time you open your mouth, I wonder which one of us you're going to hurt!" My mom was sobbing and begging for me to stop. "I've been waiting and waiting for the day where you just hit one of us!"
And he hit me. He punched me square in the face. Then he did it again, except this time it was my stomach and it made me fall to the floor. I cried out in pain, but that only made him want to hurt me some more. He kicked me. Hard. My mom tried to pull him away from me, but he just gave her a black eye and continued to kick me. Somewhere between kick number seven and my mom's crying, I lost consciousness.
When I woke up, I was where I was when I fell unconscious. My lip was bleeding and my stomach felt like it was a building that had just been demolished with a wrecking ball. It was more quiet than it was that morning. I limped into the living room, clutching my stomach, knowing it would bruise badly if it hadn't already. My mom was standing in the kitchen, smashing all the plates into the counter. I couldn't take it. I couldn't stand seeing her so broken over some ass hat who drinks too much. I made my way back to my room where I packed my bags and wrote my mom a letter.
"Dear Mom, I can't stand living here anymore. I'm leaving and I suggest you do the same. There are better men out there who are waiting for a woman like you to sweep them off their feet. Call me when you find one or when he's gone. I love you. No matter what. Love, Elizabeth."
Due to the sound of plates breaking, my mom didn't hear the front door open or the car engine start or the sound of me crying from my room all the way to some small town in California six hundred miles away from the hell hole that is my mom and her drunk of a husband.
Thirteen hours of driving later, I pulled into a rest stop to take a nap. The events of the night before had been so exhausting, but I didn't give myself time to sleep, wanting to put as much distance between me and my old life as possible. Sleep came easier than I expected. What I didn't expect was the nightmares that ensued.
I woke up to the sound of me screaming and rapid tapping on the car window. It was a girl who was short and strawberry blonde and dressed very nicely. I shyly rolled down my window.
"Are you okay?" the girl asked. I nodded, too scared to say anything. "Do you need anything?" I shook my head. "You look pretty young, too young to be traveling by yourself. How old are you?"
"I'm seventeen. Eighteen in a month," I told her. "And I'm not traveling I ran away from home." I don't know why it was so easy to talk to her. Maybe it was because she was there and I wanted someone to talk to.
The strawberry blonde's expression changed from concern to pity. "Why'd you do that?"
"My step dad was abusing me and I couldn't take it," I told her, no emotion in my voice. After the events of the night before, I was emotionally drained.
I could tell the strawberry blonde looked genuinely worried. She felt bad for me, took pity on me. "Do you need a place to stay?" She asked. I was a little shocked. I hadn't thought about living situations or money or even food. All I had thought about was getting the hell out of there. I nodded again. "Well, tell you what, my friend Derek has an apartment with a spare room and I'm sure he'd be willing to let you stay there for at least a little while," She explained. "So just follow me to his house and we'll get you settled in."
I smiled. I really appreciated this random act of kindness from this stranger. I know they say not to trust people you've just met, but right now, this girl was all I've got. "I'm Elizabeth, by the way," I told her. I figured if she's going to be giving me living arrangements, she should at least know my name.
"I'm Lydia," The strawberry blonde-Lydia- said, a smile spreading across her face.
I followed Lydia into a town called Beacon Hills. Once there, we drove for another ten minutes before reaching a dim apartment complex in the middle of what seemed to be downtown Beacon Hills. I assumed Lydia called her friend- Derek and filled him in on everything during the car ride here.
A tall, brunette, tan, broad man with scruff on his face and muscles on his muscles came out of the apartment building, followed by a boy of the same stature but without the facial hair and a little bit less muscle. "Hi, I'm Derek," he said, sticking his hand out. I took it and shook it gently before letting go. He smiled a smile that flaunted all of his perfectly white teeth. "And this is Scott," he said, gesturing to the brunette boy beside him.
Scott held out his hand and I shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, a slight boyish grin on his face.
"Now that we've got the introductions over with, I'll give you the tour," Derek said, holding his arm out to show off his home.
I followed him inside, Scott was behind me since he was carrying two of my bags. The apartment was more like a loft. When you first enter the loft you're in the an open living room with the kitchen connected to the side. It's a very grunge loft. It's looks like something straight out of a television show- one wall made of windows, the rest gray, spiral staircase, black countertops and matching futon and recliner, a flat screen tv, and book cases filled with books.
And finally, was my room. It was simple- white walls, wooden floors with a red rug. A big duvet lay on the bed matching the color of the rug. There was a wooden dresser and a glass desk in each corner of the room. Scott sat my two bags on the bed.
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," I told Derek, tears in my eyes.
"It's no problem," he said. "I'll leave you to yourself to get settled in. If you need anything at all, I'll be right down stairs."
I tried to say thank you, but I knew that if I spoke, sobs would come out instead so I just smiled at him, grateful for what he was doing.
I unzipped one of the bags and put the clothes in it into the dresser. I put the picture of me and my mom on top of the dresser and finished unpacking the rest of my things before falling on top of the queen sized bed and letting sleep overcome me.
I woke up a couple hours later to an empty house. I went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Sitting in the counter was a yellow post it note with black scribbles written across it.
"Went out. Will be back really late. Call if you need anything -Derek" then at the bottom, Derek wrote his number.
I checked the clock- 6:00. I had who knows how long until Derek got back. I decided I needed a shower since it had been a day since my last one. I found the bathroom and a towel and turned on the shower, putting the water on hot. I undressed and got in the shower, letting the warmth of the water relax me a bit. I washed my brown hair and body, shaved my legs and brushed my teeth. Turning off the water, I wrapped the towel around my body. I put on a sweatshirt and shorts before deciding I was hungry.
Derek's fridge, much like his pantry, was filled with foods. From leftovers to waffles to an excessive amount of beer. Too lazy to actually cook, I decided on making a microwaveable pizza. Three bites in, the doorbell rang. I furrowed my eyebrows together, not sure if I should get it or not. I mean obviously it wasn't for me, but I was the only home at the time.
The doorbell rang again, convincing me to answer it. I pulled open the door, revealing a tall, lanky boy. He had dark brown hair swept up, away from his face. His nose was straight but at the bridge it curved up and his eyes were a beautiful shade of brown.
"You're so not Scott," he said, his eyes traveling across my body.
"And you're so not Harry Styles," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Who are you?"
"I'm Stiles," he told me. "I'm a friend of Derek's and Scott's."
"Well, Derek's actually out right now and Scott doesn't live here, so if you don't mind," I said, starting to close the door.
Stiles shoved his foot in between the door and the doorway. "Actually I do," he said, pushing the door open and letting himself in.
"Sure, come on in, boy I just met," I sighed, shutting the door behind me and followed Stiles into the kitchen where he sat at the little bar, across from where I had been sitting earlier. I sat down in front of my pizza, continuing to eat it. He sat there and watched be take a few bites in silence before I said something. "Are you just gonna stare at me?"
"No, I, uh," He chuckled a bit to himself and looked down at his hands that were folded and on top of the table. "I just had a funny thought," His voice trailed off. He looked back up at me, making eye contact. "You never did tell me your name."
"It's Elizabeth," I told him.
"So, Elizabeth," He said, smiling to himself. "How do you know Derek?"
This question made me a little uncomfortable because I didn't really know him and also because I didn't want to explain everything that happened to a complete stranger. I knew that if I did, I would start crying and I wouldn't be able to stop
"We're cousins," I lied.
"Really? You two don't look alike at all," Stiles observed.
"By marriage," I added, desperately wanting to change the subject. "So how do you know Derek?"
"He is my best friend's mentor," He told me.
In response, I smiled weakly. "Well what did you come here for?"
"To talk to Scott," he answered quickly, "but he's obviously isn't here so..."
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why did you come here to see Scott?" I asked.
"Because he wasn't home so I figured he had to be here," Stiles explained, "But I guess he isn't."
I shrugged, taking the last bite of my pizza and putting the dirty plate in the dishwasher. "Why do you need to see Scott?" I asked, prying my way into the lives of Mystic Falls' finest.
"Why are you asking so many questions?" Stiles retorted.
"Just trying to make conversation," I shrugged nonchalantly.
Stiles sighed and hung his head. "I tell Scott everything since we're best friends," he explained. "And I wanted to complain about the girl I've been in love with since the third grade."
"Well you can vent to me about it, if you'd like," I suggested. "I'm a very good listener."
"That's okay, I'd rather not tell a stranger my problems," Stiles snapped. "Thanks though," he added sarcastically.
"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" I said. "Especially considering I let you in when I don't even know you. For all I know, you could be a serial killer- there's gotta be some level of trust between us." I tempted.
He shook his head, smiling at his hands which were folded neatly and politely on top of the table. "It's just she knows I like her and she usually doesn't even text me back, but then she kissed me," he explained.
"If she kissed you then what's the problem?" I asked, not seeing where Stiles' story was headed.
"She kissed me because I was having a panic attack. After that, Lydia never said anything about it, but it was there, you know, that spark. I felt it," Stiles explained. "Honestly though, I just want to get over her, but I have no clue how. I'm just so in love with her..."
So the girl he was so bent out of shape about was the girl who brought me to this place to begin with huh?
"You're so in love with her? Really?" I asked, cringing at how bad he's got it for this girl. "You're what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen at most? You'll have plenty more opportunities for love." I told him. "I'm not saying you're incapable of love at this age," I explained, "Im saying that you're going to fall in love again and again, time after time, so why should you waste any more time on this one girl who won't even text you back?!"
Stiles looked at me like he was surprised to hear anyone to tell him to stop whining. "You know, you're really something, Elizabeth," he said, pausing to study me some more. "Something indeed."
a/n: yay another fanfic! this originally started out as a Stefan fan fic, but I really wanted to reach out to other TV shows so I turned it into a stiles one, which I think I like better so yeah plus teen wolf is life so
I hope you liked this and stay tuned for the next chapter
also as a side note if you care the title was inspired by the shatter me trilogy which I just finished and loved and if you like young adult/scoff/dystopian/major character development you should definitely go read it just thought you should know okay bye