The True Family

Back to school

STILES POV

I cough...

My breathing is getting harder and harder, I feel like the dust has found its way to the back of my throat through my nostrils. They've been walking back and forth on the stairs for over an hour, and as a result all the dust falls on my body and I feel like I'm about to have an asthma attack even though I don't even have asthma.

I hide my eyes when they are attacked by the daylight, I take a few seconds to get used to the light and then I recognize my father's silhouette. For half a second, I feel like he's worried about me, but I understand too soon that I only saw what I wanted to see in his eyes and that he's still watching me with indifference.

"Hurry up and wash up, your lunch is on the table."

"O-Okay." I say with difficulty, still because of the dust.

I crawl out of my closet with difficulty. Although most of my injuries no longer hurt, my ribs still hurt excruciatingly, especially when I stay in the same position for a long time. I hear my father close the door behind me and I shiver when he helps me to my feet. I let out a gasp and pushed him away to run upstairs before starting to cry... How long has it been since his hands had touched me in such a gentle way?

I try to open the bathroom door, but it is locked and Marc's voice yells that it is occupied. I sigh, desperate and go to my room to get some clothes. I take out my underwear, jeans, t-shirt and my eternal red hoodie, at the same time I hear Simon come out of his room and I hold my hoodie very tightly against me praying that he will pass by my room without entering it. I fall onto my bed in relief when I hear him walking down the stairs.

I hurry to take possession of the bathroom as soon as Marc comes out. I lock myself inside and put my clothes on the counter. I look at myself in the mirror, I look awful. My cheeks are hollow, a sign that I have been deprived of meals far too often over the past two weeks. I remove my dusty clothes and let out a hiccup, tears streaming down my cheeks as I turn slightly to the side to see the bruise on my back that has not decreased in size in two weeks, it must be said that this closet is not really allowing me to heal from a sprained rib... if it is not broken.

All this because Simon accused me of hitting him... all this because every day I am accused of something new that I didn't do. And last night, why did I end up in this closet? Because I tried not to rock the boat during dinner with the McCall family. Because I was careful with what I answered, because I didn't want Scott to be too interested in me like Simon doesn't consider me worthy... And in return what do I get?

My stepmother thinks I'm rude to the McCalls... She spent the rest of the evening convincing my father and he was the one who locked me in the closet.

I go downstairs when I finish taking my shower, ready to eat my lunch, but I stop frozen in front of the empty table. I look at the kitchen counter, but no, it's empty too. I walk over to the fridge and open it, but there's no plate waiting for me. I then hear someone coming into the kitchen and I stick my nose out of the fridge to see Josée looking at me with her smug little smile.

"What? Did you really expect that if you took so long there would still be a plate waiting for you? You should have hurried up, big guy, you don't want your dad to be late, do you?"

"If you're so afraid that dad will be late, why don't you let Simon drive us to school?" I asked.

"Because a police car gives us more respect than an old trash can."

I slam the fridge door shut a little too hard at her comment, not appreciating that she compares my mother's Roscoe to a trash can, but I immediately regret it when I see my dad taking an interest in the noise I just made.

"What's going on here?" Noah asked, showing his impatience.

"Honey, your son got mad at me, he doesn't understand that it's not my fault if he doesn't hurry up to eat, you're going to be late right? That's why I got rid of his plate."

"That's not true, if I get mad, it's because she calls mommy's car an old piece of trash, I can't accept that!"

A flash of anger flashed in Josée's eyes for contradicting her, but when it comes to my mother I refuse to lower myself. I beg my father with my eyes to believe me, but I'm all trembling when I see him sigh and I don't know if it's because I'm afraid of his reaction or because I'm angry that he doesn't consider the last vestige of my mother more than that. He looks at his wife before turning his attention back to me.

"Stiles, your step mother is right, we're going to be late, let's go."

I could get angry that he doesn't say anything about Josée's comment, I could yes... but I don't, because he called me Stiles, because he considered me even though he didn't show it. My ribcage swells with emotion as I nod, leaving the kitchen to find my school bag on the edge of the door.

It really hurt when I got out of the car once in the school parking lot. The whole way there I felt like I had hundreds of needles sticking into my huge bruise. I was waiting for my father to open the suitcase for us to take my bag when I looked up into the distance, having the strange feeling of being watched. My throat tightened at the intensity of this look, I was not dreaming, I was the person that this man, at the back of the parking lot, was watching with his arms crossed, leaning against his car.

I feel strange, I feel like I recognize this look. My heart suddenly races as I see his eyes shine. I tell myself that it must be an illusion, a reflection of the light, yet I can't do it, I can't help but tell myself that I didn't dream, even when his eyes return to normal and I continue to observe him, unable to look elsewhere. His presence is discreet, as if he manages to blend into the decor despite his slightly dark aura and his leather jacket and a part of me envies him for that.

I jump when an arm clings to my shoulders and my gaze deviates towards Simon, the owner of the arm. I shiver with fear at his wonderful smile, I know that it doesn't mean anything good. He slowly comes closer and I tilt my head to the side as I let him slide towards my ear to whisper something. A cold sensation runs through my spine and my gaze goes to Scott a little further away with his friends.

"Seriously, I can't, Simon..." I begged.

"That's it or I'll figure something much worse for you."

I closed my eyes as I heard my stepbrother whisper about how he could figure out how to make Noah think I took advantage of Scott's kindness by forcing him to do my homework.

It is with a pain in my heart that I open my eyes and whisper that I accept his request and I can almost feel his smile against my ear sending new shivers throughout my body.

"Oh, look, it's Scott over there." He said to make himself heard by everyone including my father.

I turned my attention in turn to the teenager who, surprisingly, had turned towards us before Simon even said his name out loud. I sighed, unable to back away any longer, and partially opened my lips, letting out a weak but audible "Hey" while waving my hand to make him come closer.

I began to wonder if it was a good idea to accept... not for me, in any case the reaction would be the same, I would get beaten, but I felt really bad for having to make him suffer this upcoming humiliation...

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