the void - stydia

chapter three

stiles swerved his jeep into Lydia's driveway, parking up and yawning.
glancing at the clock, it was just after 7pm. he had hours of studying to do with Lydia and he couldn't risk falling asleep. reaching into his bag he grabbed the pills and took two, washing them down with a large mouthful of whisky. wiping his mouth, he took his bag and walked to Lydia's front door, knocking three times as he always had done.
when Lydia answered the door her nose wrinkled slightly, and she cocked her head to the side looking oddly at stiles.

'what, Lydia? do I have something on my face?' stiles wiped his mouth again, confusion spreading through his body.
'no, but you smell like whisky. stiles...are you drunk?'
'Lydia, do I look drunk? I was pouring my dad a glass and spilt some on me, that's probably why I smell like crap.'

Lydia nodded her head in a silent 'ok' and moved aside to let stiles into the house. she locked the door and followed stiles upstairs to her room, thankful that she had cleaned up. something was playing on her mind though, a nagging thought that she couldn't push. stiles dad was the sheriff, so he worked really late hours, at least until 10pm...so why had stiles told her he was pouring his dad a drink? brushing those thoughts aside she stifled a laugh when she saw stiles, sprawled out across her queen sized bed, unpacking books and pens from his bag. a small orange tub fell out of his bag, and rattled as he quickly shoved it back in.

'what's that stiles? in the orange bottle?'
'my adderall. for my adhd, you know that Lyds.'
'yeah sorry I forgot. right, so this assignment we have...any ideas? I'm completely stuck.'

stiles smiled at Lydia, and opened his English notebook.

'well, let's get started then.'

it was around  12:30pm when stiles left Lydia's, having watched the girl slowly fall into a peaceful sleep. he had tucked her up in bed after cleaning up their English work, and taken her shoes off for her. the icy air hit him hard as he fumbled with the keys for his jeep, his whole body shivering.
'should have brought a jacket you douche'
'shut up!' stiles said, before he realised he was talking to himself.
finally managing to get the jeep open, he made himself comfortable in the seats and finished off what was left of the whisky. it was a nice feeling-he wasn't drunk, but everything was warm and fuzzy. he liked feeling like this. chucking the empty bottle out of the window into a nearby bush as he reversed from Lydia's driveway, he wondered wether his dad would be home from the station. probably not, considering all that had happened these past few months...because of him.
sheriff stilinski could barely even look at his son anymore, knowing what he had done while he was possessed. that was the worst thing, stiles knew his father blamed him, but he wouldn't say anything to stiles because he was his son.

groaning inwardly, stiles checked his clock. 5am. he had been up, reading lore on the supernatural since he got home. he shakily got to his feet, and walked to the bathroom to take a shower.
'wash it all away, everything you did. like it never happened. your friends? they're all ignoring what you did. what you became. you're a monster. you killed your best friends first love, because you were jealous. you killed your first loves boyfriend, because you were jealous. they're going to realise soon stiles, and then you'll have no one.'
stiles let the hot water run down his body, shuddering at the thought of his possession. he was weak, because he let the nogitsune in. he was weaker still because he couldn't get over it. stiles began to cry, hot tears mixing with the shower water. he slid down the wall and sat in the bottom of the shower, curled in a ball. it was all his fault. Allison and Aiden deserved to live, they were good people. it should have been him, he should have died.
stiles noticed the silver of a razorblade, lying at the side of the shower. picking it up, he ran his finger along the blade, feeling a sharp pain, then satisfaction as he drew blood.
he extended his bare arm, and slowly ran the razor along it, porcelain pillowing red. he carried on, and on, and on, going deeper and deeper. one, two, three, four, five...he counted sixteen cuts in total. one for every year he had lived this pointless life. stiles dropped the blade, and washed off his body, watching the deep red water fade to pink, then go clear. stepping out the shower, he dried himself off, then raced down to the kitchen to get a bandage.
what had he done?
if anyone sees this...what will he say?
but stiles doesn't really care, because he knows no one else will care, not really. he's getting the punishment he deserves.
eyeing the drinks cabinet again, he delves in and picks up a bottle of vodka. retreating to his room, he gets himself dressed and ready for school, covering the bandage on his arm with a flannel shirt. the one on his hand however is a different story...Lydia hadn't asked about it, but he knew she noticed it. proof enough that she didn't care.

stiles shoved another bottle of pills in his bag, and filled a water bottle with the vodka, hiding the rest under his pillow. he called out to his dad that he was leaving for school, but received silence as an answer.

he didn't feel like talking to anyone today. so he didn't go to school. he drove, for what seemed like hours, until he found his favourite place. the woods where he, his mom and his dad used to go before she died. trudging through the woods, stiles got to a craggy edge, at the bottom of which was an indigo pool.

he lay besides the rocks for hours on end, every so often gulping on his vodka, and adding a pill into the mix. he wasn't going to sleep, because that's when the nightmares happened.
he couldn't remember the last time he slept, but he wasnt tired. the amphetamines were making sure of that.