Caged

Chapter 1

The air turned black filling all around him, icy fingers gripped his arms pulling him down, red eyes glaring at a pinned down Stiles - the figure aggressively tangling around arm burrowing inside his flesh, body heavy - mind fogging - a dark merciless voice rings through his skull, evil comments, evil words - black - waking up in a cold sweat, heavy breathing as if he ran a mile, vague memory looming around his brain, an empty feeling growing inside him like when the dark nogitsune possessed him making him hurt people, playing mind game, feeling guilty of all the pain he caused. He slowly got out of bed, heading to the bathroom washing his face, staring at his face, not seeing himself any more he thinks to himself 'murderer' trying to resist the urge - failing terribly, he grabs a box of razors from the cabinet, taking one out, rolling up his sleeves and cuts and cuts till he blanks out not noticing he cleaned up and went back to bed like nothing happened.

He didn't sleep the rest of the night. Light shining through his window, birds chirping, his father already gone for work, he decided to get up even though he didn't want to - putting on his flannel on over his hoodie, fabric moving over the cuts, he felt like a bird inside a bird cage - trapped - inside his mind - in pain - darkness surrounding him, covering him whole. His phone buzzes - buzz - buzz, not wanting to see who it is, he puts his phone in his pocket.

Grabbing his keys, not wanting to eat and heading to his jeep, hoping in with the little energy he has, driving to school - when he got into a parking spot, jumping out and lazily walked inside, annoying people who barely knew him steered at him as he made it to his locker. Scott his best friend strolls up to him, he's once loud friend - a shell of who he was, not known to Scott he was almost at his breaking point, Scott might be clueless most of the time, but he knew something was wrong - he asked Stiles if everything was OK, but he didn't say anything, like he didn't hear him "Stiles", "Stiles" he said louder
"Hmm," he hummed quietly. He wasn't all there, Scott asked again
"I asked if you're OK?" getting worried
"I'm fine" is all he said as he walked to class, Scott didn't believe him one bit but didn't press further. As coach spoke Stiles blanking out, his thoughts plagued his mind saying' burden', 'you don't deserve them', 'idiot', he tries to drown out the voices only to notice class had finished, ignoring his friends, feeling bad again he headed to bathroom to breath - to calm down - to stop, entering a stall, sitting on the lid, heavily breathing, he feels like he's drowning he wants to be loved but feels like he doesn't deserve it, his mind trapping him, pulling him under. Panic is nothing new to him, but this was one of his worst since his mothers' death, 'calm down' 'calm down!',' stop being weak' - he eventually calmed down, he sat there holding his knees to his chest trying to feel better, but the overwhelming feeling doesn't leave. It's like the darkness made a home inside him and can't evict it. Dragging him to despair and self-hate, yearning for pain. The bell rings, bringing him out of thoughts.

His grades are slipping, lacrosse practice is getting harder to uphold, teachers are starting to notice, the pack is suspicious.-

His next class ;science, was the same. Not focused in his dark mind, breaking him each second, figures around listening to the lesson but feels eyes on him like everyone is judging him, burning a hole inside him, knowing the hate that is apparent. Mind racing, it gets harder to breathe like the air is knocked out of his lungs, shakily raising his skinny hand. "Yes, Stalinski."
"C-can I use the restroom" trying to sound calm but fails
"Fine" the teacher answers then went back to the lesson, Scott gives Stiles a worried look, but he ignored his best friends gaze and step out closing the door behind him, feeling dizzy he sways slightly as he travels back to the bathroom hoping he isn't seen, mind racing, breathing irregular and pained arm, he slides down the closed stall door that he doesn't remember walking in hugging his knees to his chest, blood pounded his ears, his heart thudded against his chest, vision blurry with tears joining, the overwhelming dread buzzed throughout his body, sweat dripping down his neck like he was in water 'too much, too much', 'make it stop!' the pain in his chest becoming overpowered 'weak' the voice shouts hitting his skull like a drill, he tries and tries to breathe but to no avail, scratching at his arm to relieve him from this torture. It works. The pain in his chest dies down, his breathing is better but still irregular, tears slip slower, making it easier to see. Body exhausted, drained. 'RING !' loudly erupts through the quiet school, Stiles starts to get up stumbling at first but stands, shakily unlocking the stall door and trails to the sink, rinsing his tear ridden face clean, breathing one big breath in then turning to the door and walking to get his bag, it must have been a while since, so the teacher asked him to hurry up next time, feeling guilty he apologised for his lateness before leaving.

Scott was getting really worried, so he called Stiles' father; Sheriff Stilinski, "Scott, what's wrong?"
"It's Stiles, something is wrong," Scott explained worriedly
"What do you mean? Is he OK!?" Sheriff starting to panic
"I'm not sure. He's not acting like himself and hasn't said or done anything, really."
"Scott, watch him till I can check on it," Sheriff suggested
Scott nodded even though he couldn't see it and hung up, Scott decided to tell the others to watch out for Stiles as well in hopes of finding out what's going on. They could sense something, but they didn't know exactly what it was.