Psychopath (Stiles AU)

Chapter 18

A/n: Trigger warning my loves!

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He dashed down the narrow hall, it being so dark he couldn't see two steps in front of him. His heavy feet made the old floorboards creek underneath him, and it honestly sounded like they might give way from underneath him, but he didn't stop running.

He needed to get away.

He didn't even know where he was, where he was going, but he knew there was nothing right about the place he was in and he needed to get far away. It smelt oddly of moss and wet cardboard, kind of like an old house that hadn't been lived in for some years.

Suddenly, a light flickered on.

Stiles squinted at the sudden brightness, allowing his eyes to adjust before slowing his pace and slowly making his way further down the hall until he reached the end, where the yellow-glowing light was bolted onto the wall.

He looked left and right, finding himself at the end of the hall with nowhere left to go. That's when something suddenly caught his eye. Written in red on the outdated wallpaper was There's nowhere left to go, Stiles. Give up.

He furrowed his eyebrows at the words, tearing his gaze from the words to take another look down the hall. It was pitch black down there, and Stiles didn't exactly want to go running back down because he was running in the opposite direction in the first place.

Not to mention the fact that he seemed to be running from something. He didn't plan to be coming into contact with whatever that might have been, so he stands at the end of the hall, watching into the darkness in hopes that something might happen when a cloudy figure suddenly runs into the middle of the hall some distance from him.

He tensed up, watching as the almost transparent figure simply stood there, watching Stiles while it heaved in and out, seemingly trying to catch its breath. Stiles squinted at it, noticing that it was in fact a boy, probably no older than five. The boy looked oddly like Stiles when he was around that age, but what distracted him was the knife that the boy brought out from behind his back.

He gave Stiles a sickening grin, bringing the sharp object to his neck before pretending to slice his neck then running off to the side, disappearing like a cloud of smoke.

Stiles held his breath, finding himself taking slow steps toward where the boy was. When he got to the area, he noticed that there were no halls for the boy to run up and down, simply wall that was still covered in that God awful wallpaper. He pressed his hands to the area, feeling the wallpaper crumble underneath his palms and digging his fingernails into holes in the wall. He shut his eyes, trying to immerse himself in the situation while still trying to be aware of what was going on around him.

He felt dirty, sweaty, suddenly lost in a haze of mind and when he felt coolness on his hands he finally opened his eyes. He glanced down at them, mouth running dry when he noticed two knife blades stuck through the middle of his palms, protruding out of the back of his hands.

The ends of the blades glistened, his blood dripping off the pointed ends and slipping down his arms before painting the old wooden floorboards red. He tried to pull away from them, but to no avail he was stuck to the wall. The knives began to twist, a sickening laugh from an unknown person began to mix with his screams as more and more blood began to turn his hands red, his vision blurry, and his knees weak.

"It's your turn to feel the pain now, Stiles." The voice echoed, and suddenly the knives were ripped from his hands, allowing him to fall to the floor. He'd began to sob, hands shaking as he pressed them to the material on his pants as an attempt to stop the bleeding.

The light at the end of the hall suddenly burnt out, leaving him alone in the darkness.

"It's your turn now." The voice whispered again, and there was a sliding sound like metal on wood, coming closer to Stiles. The object came to a halt in front of him when it bumped into his leg, and he found himself reaching out for whatever it was.

He picked up the object, it feeling cool between his palms as he brought it up to his face so he could get a better look at it. He squinted, and using his limited vision and sense of feel he began to realize that it was in fact a gun he was holding.

"Feel the pain, Stiles. Feel the pain."

As if he had no control over his body anymore, he found his arm lifting up, bringing the gun to the side of his head. His hand slipped into a more comfortable grip on the handle, pointer finger moving to rest on the trigger.

"Three... two... one..."

Bang.

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A/n: Okay so this is just merely a filler (and don't worry, he isn't really dead omg) but it's a very important one as it gives you all a slight disguised hint as to what the ending is going to be for this fic so have fun trying to figure out what could happen ehe