DRIPPING DARKNESS

Ch-29: The vision of Beacon Hills

Stiles' POV

I couldn't sleep last night.

How could I? It's like when things start falling out of your hands they just won't stop.

Apart from the PTSD that either my Dad, the only one I have in my family, or Scott or Lydia or Even malia could have been shot dead in the Sherriff's station and I could have done nothing to take it back. Literally nothing. I felt stupid for allowing ourselves to go into that Station willingly even when we knew danger was knocking at the door.

Besides all this stuff, I couldn't get Lydia out of my head. The relationship between me and her mother was really worsening, she started to lose her faith in me. Miss martin blocked all my contacts with her and barred her friends to meet her in the hospital for her arm injury.

That one girl...that one girl...the number of years I spent obsessing on her obsessions and all those crazy stuff.

I sent her a text message saying, 'Lydia, please... we need to talk..' two and a half hours and three minutes and four seconds ago...and there was still no reply. I wasn't expecting a reply back, why should I? when I was already blocked?

I will admit I was grumpy, I am. I've had some tough days and the grump monster has bitten his way through the bars. My grump-o-meter is off the chain. Sorry.

My love-o-meter is however exactly the same as when I'm at my best. So please... space is all I need... I promise that I still love you, I do.

All those thoughts were going through in my mind on whether I should write this stuff to Lydia or not.

I guess she was still a little waspish and splenetic at me. The thing is...For this girl..for Lydia Martin... I was ready to sacrifice all my comfort zones and take the blame on myself but that wasn't the problem. The problem was about opening up about things that you feel from the inside but you don't express.

I was pretty sure that was what Lydia is going through.

Maybe I was just overthinking. But Maybe, these thoughts are true. Who knows? But I had to go over to Scott's to figure out the rest part. there was no time for a night of quality sleep.

I jumped out from my bed with no intention of changing my clothes to new ones. I had this one on for like...I don't know...Oh my god, I literally don't know when I wore them last time. I honestly didn't care. I put on some deodorant and ran my way downstairs, as usual.

"I am going over to Scott's!! See you after work Dad!" I yelled and was about to shut the door off.

"STILES!!! Wait!!!" He shouted back so loudly, I couldn't take another step.

I closed the door after stepping back inside. I was bound to listen to his orders when I was at his house.

"You should not get out of this house."

"I shouldn't...wait...whatt? What do you mean by that?"

"WHAT DO I MEAN BY THAT... Jesus Stiles! Look around you, There are people who can control the power of the Sheriff's station, there are people who can literally blow someone else's head off in a second, and Why do you think I let my son go out in times like this?"

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was being hyperactive.

When we are afraid, when we are under stress, we speed up our brain's "angry-face search app" but, as we get faster, we get less accurate. We start to see angry faces that aren't there, reading calm faces as angry.