Ain't no rest for the wicked

New environment

Hey! Scott McCall here. Leave something after the beep.

Stiles sighs. This was the thirty-six time he called Scott, and still, his best friend didn't answer his phone.

''Hey, Scott, just wanted to check if we still on for tonight. I heard Isaac mumble something about a pack night. And - uh - I didn't know about it, I thought we were still going to play videogames or something like we- you know- never mind, I will - I will see you.'' Stiles says in a raspy voice after the beep before hanging up.

Jezus he was so pathetic. Of course, Scott wouldn't answer his calls or invite him to a pack meeting. He hasn't seen anyone from the pack since - since - fuck, he can't even think about it.

He scrubs his hands harshly over his face and takes a shaky breath. He is slowly losing his mind. He knows he is. He wished that he could talk to anyone about what happened. But Scott won't talk to him since - since - Alli - god...

Lydia is grieving. She at least talked to him and was honest that she needed some time before she could look him in the eyes again. He could appreciate that. Isaac was living with Scott, and Stiles didn't think that Isaac would like to talk to Stiles either. He did kill - her - fuck.

Stiles takes another shaky breath and counts his fingers, thank god, there are just ten. Ten just like there should be.

Cora was already in fucking south America when everything went down, and he wants to sink to his knees in thanks that she wasn't here for this shit show. Kira - well, to be honest, he doesn't want to see Kira. He knows it wasn't her fault, but this whole hell started with her mom. And yeah, Stiles doesn't hold a grudge specifically to Kira, but Stiles could do without Kira at the moment.

Ethan - well, Stiles wouldn't be surprised if Ethan wants to kill him. Hell, even Stiles himself is debating if it's even worthwhile to stay alive.

Stiles flinches when a flashback flashes through his mind, the sword that he twisted in Scott's stomach, the feeling of Scott's pain and confusion thrumming through his veins, the excitement and pleasure he felt coming from the Nogitsune when it possessed him and did everything to get his shot of complete chaos.

Stiles makes it just in time to retch into the wastebasket next to his desk. He must have lost at least twenty pounds since he was possessed, and he is shaking from the cold. He stumbles to his bed and rolls himself in the covers.

Stiles tries to shake himself from his destructive thoughts and starts counting his fingers again and wishing for the millionth time in this past month that he could talk to anyone.

He would even settle to talk to Derek even if the Sourwolf won't talk back. Stiles chuckles humorlessly. Who is he kidding?

He would do anything to talk to Derek. Derek would understand, Derek - Derek knows how it feels, knows how this - this guilt that just consumes you.

But Derek just up and left with Peter after everything went down. And shit - if that didn't hurt like a kick in the guts. Stiles understood. Of course, he did. He would go too if his dad weren't here.

A pang of pain shoots through him when he thinks about his dad, and he swallows back bile again. His dad hasn't talked to him in about a week, and before that, he only answered with yes, or no and Stiles just feels so worthless. He knows he is the one to blame. He didn't talk to his father either. And - and his dad just doesn't know how to deal with that again.

Gone is the dad that just cared too much and was more exasperated and fond by Stiles. Now he is just suspicious and wary. He wants to know where Stiles goes every time he leaves the house, and Stiles can't blame him. His dad needed to erase so much evidence so nothing would point at Stiles, nothing from the hospital or the station or from the school.