Tether ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [2]

twenty-nine

After what could have been days but felt like weeks, I had officially become numb. The blankness of my bedroom ceiling stared down back at me.

Surely, I had cried out every ounce of tears I had left in me. My cheeks had become sensitive and swollen, and my eyes had begun to sting every time I blinked. I didn't want to see my reflection or catch a glimpse of any pieces of Allison still left in my appearance, so I had stayed pretty much to myself in my bedroom. But I didn't need to check in the bathroom mirror to know that I looked like the death that haunted me.

"Eleanor," my father's voice called softly from my doorway. "I've heated up dinner. It's on the counter."

I didn't move. He carried on down the hallway like a ghost.

Melissa McCall had helped to keep our fridge and freezer stocked, going out of her way to provide for us when she had a grieving boy at home just the same. Scott had visited on one of the trips over, helping his mom carry in the food. I managed to thank him, but every time I looked in his eyes I was transported back to that night seeing him cry across from me, his arms cradling my sister.

Kira had delivered a card that my father couldn't bear to read, understanding where the Oni had come from in the first place. Lydia had dropped off flowers, a bouquet that brought beautiful colours to the overwhelming dullness of our apartment and tried to cut through the weight of the air with its floral scent. I hadn't been able to answer the door when she left them.

I was being selfish and would lay in even more angst at that realization. Lydia was grieving too. She had lost a best friend and her boyfriend in the span of a day. And I couldn't get the weight of loss and pity off of my chest in time to stand up when the doorbell rang. I'd speak to her one of these days. I'd make it up to her.

Stiles had called me once.

When my phone lit up I held it hovering over my face closely, seeing his contact image and name flash across the screen. Every nerve in my body strained to answer, but I was too afraid that I wouldn't be able to speak if I picked up. If he even said her name. So I let the fear win over and leave it to voicemail.

He hadn't left a message and he hadn't called again. He was giving me space. And I knew that his call was his outstretched hand, now it was up to me to decide when I would be ready to take it.

I heard the sound of my father's door closing down the hall, and turned slowly until I was lying on my side and staring across at my wall. With the sudden movement, my stomach let out a loud complaining rumble. It took me a few minutes to decide that it would be best if I got some food in my body, and it took me another five minutes to finally gather the strength to sit up and press my feet to the floor.

Creeping out of my room, I froze. I was confronted with the very heavy reason why I felt more comfortable lying alone inside my own bedroom. In order to get out to the kitchen, I had to pass Allison's bedroom door.

It was being kept closed. Dad had been in there already. The other day, I had heard the familiar creak of the door frame opening nearby and had actually jumped at the sound. I didn't hear it creak again for hours, when his footsteps finally echoed away.

But I hadn't gone in like he had. I hadn't gathered up enough strength to go in and see the space she would never take up again.

Yet, there I was. Lingering in the hallway. Feeling a long, painful pull towards the room. Shaking slightly, I took a step forward and stopped again right outside her door.

I could hear my breathing, my heartbeat coming in rapid bursts as I stood there frozen with my hand outstretched towards the doorknob. I closed my eyes and sighed. On the exhale, I pushed the door open.