ochisia | stiles stilinski [2]

chapter eleven: battlefield

"How are you doing?" Ms. Morell leaned back in her seat as she flipped open her notebook to a fresh page. Her sleek brown hair reflected the fluorescent light on the ceiling of her office.

"I'm fine," I said nonchalantly, examining my nails, and saw Ms. Morell lift her head from the corner of my eyes, clearly taken aback by my short answer.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You went through a major trauma just last week, Alex. One of your classmates is dead."

The room was bathed in silence before I tore my eyes away from my nails, "I don't feel sorry for him."

"Matt?"

At my confirmation, Morell attempted to dig deeper, jotting something down in her notebook, "Do you feel sorry for the 9-year-old Matt who drowned?"

"A lot of people go through shit without turning into a serial killer," I lifted my eyes to finally look her in the eye.

"You mean like yourself?"

I shrugged, my eyes drifting over the multiple frames hanging behind her chair, "I survived."

"Why don't we talk about that a little more? About how you 'survived'?"

"What do you want to know?" I raised an eyebrow slightly, crossing my leg over the other. "I'm an open book."

"We both know that's not true," Ms. Morell's eyes were piercing straight into me, catching all of my bullshit. "You give enough information to people so they are satisfied but they never know the deeper things you're going through."

"That's not true," I gaped, defending myself as I sat up straight in my chair.

"Are you referring to Ms. Martin?" At my nod, Ms. Morell continued. "And you're sure you told her everything?"

My posture relaxed as I thought back to the night after Matt took hostage of the Sheriff's Station.

My eyelids burned a bright red as light streamed directly into them. Blinking fervently, I adjusted to the brightness of the room I was in and was surprised to see I was in my room.

How the fuck did I get here?

My hand patted my bedside table to get my phone but instead, my skin met a rough surface. A piece of paper. Rubbing my eyes, I unfolded the note carefully and read what was written on it.

I brought you home after you passed out at the Sheriff's Station. Text me as soon as you get up, you don't even know how worried I am. I want to be more pissed at you but you risked yourself to save my dad. Again. So, thank you.

I swear to god if you don't text me the second you wake up, I'm coming over and kicking your ass.

- Stiles