Neighboring (a Stydia story)[complete]

23. The knife goes chop chop chop

Lydia's pov:
"Don't struggle. It'll only make it worse." Stiles whispers in my ear. I finally manage to dig the knife out of the wooden counter and Stiles quickly grabs the weapon from my hand.

"If this is a game, you better stop now because it's not funny." I warn. He smirks, examining the blade of the kitchen knife. He tsks me.
"No games here." He speaks huskily, slowly stepping towards me as I start to back away. What the actual freaking hell was happening? Stiles pins me up against the kitchen wall, his breath fanning my face.

He moves his free hand up and down my body, his lips brushing from my collarbone up to the sensitive spot below my ear and I contain a small whimper of satisfaction.
"It'll only hurt for a second." He whispers. It takes a moment for my brain to register but when I do, I move away, barely missing the blade of the knife as it penetrates the wall instead of my skin.

He comes after me again, swinging violently as I duck, kicking at his leg and making him fall to the ground with a grunt. But immediately he's back up again, aiming towards my face with the blade and I duck again.
"STILES!" I scream, trying to get him to stop as I back away. I trip over something, falling to the floor and Stiles brings the knife down, once again catching my jacket.

I slip out of the material just as he grabs another knife and I roll away from his next stab, adrenaline running through my body. My boyfriend is trying to kill me. I stand, briefly brushing myself off before getting ready to punch. Stiles smirks, tightening his grip on the handle of the kitchen knife before taking the same stance as me.

He lunges forward, aiming for my side but I catch his wrist, prying the weapon from his hand and throwing it halfway across the room. Then, I kick him in the stomach, making him fall to the ground with a grunt.
I sit on top of him, attempting to hold his hands above his head but he pushes me off of him and I land with a thud on the floor.

He does the same as I did to him, sitting on my stomach and holding my hands above my head and I stare at him with fear.
"Now," he says, getting close in my face. "We're going to have a little fun." He dips down, pressing our lips firmly together and his tongue immediately slips into my mouth.

Stiles then let's go of one of my wrists, grabbing it with his other hand so both of mine are held down by one of his. His free hand then snakes down and starts to unbutton the front of my shirt all the way before sliding his fingers up and down my body.
I bite down on his tongue and he pulls off of me with an angry grunt. I take the opportunity, squirming under him until I'm free.

I crawl along the floor until I spy the knife, picking it up and turning towards Stiles with quick, shortened breaths.
"L-Lydia?" He stutters, the mood of the room changing just from the softness and confusion of his voice. I still hold the knife out in defense, a tear slipping from my eye.
"YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!" I scream and he winces.

"I what?" He asks and I freeze, remembering his words: You can lose your ability to concentrate, motivation, reasoning, social skills...personality. I set the knife on the kitchen counter.
"Please just...get out." I mumble, running a shaking hand through my hair.

"Lydia, I-" Stiles tries, stepping towards me but I interrupt him.
"Get out!" I yell. Stiles swallows harshly before shuffling away. I clasp a hand over my mouth to keep in the loud sobs, sliding down the wall as I try to forget what just happened.
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Stiles pov:

I wait a little before leaving, listening to her quiet sobs and sniffles. When I do get home, no one if there, like usual and I trudge upstairs to my room. It was almost funny, really. I didn't remember trying to kill her but I knew she wasn't lying either.

I walk into the kitchen, simply leaning against the counter and taking deep shallow breaths. My eyes glance to the block of knifes on the counter top before returning to the space below me.
"No...cause you're not that kind of person." I whisper to myself. It didn't take long for me to change my mind though.

With a sigh of defeat and a shaking hand, a grab a knife, holding the pointed end to my stomach.
"Then again, you're not really a person anymore." I mumble. Just as I'm about to stab myself, the front door opens and I quickly put the knife back in its place, clearing my throat.

"Hey Dad." I smile weakly as my father enters the room. "What are you doing home? It's eleven." I ask. He was supposed to me at work so I could solemnly watch Star Wars in attempt to cheer myself up.
"Forgot my keys to the office. You okay?" He asks. I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Just tired. I haven't slept in a while." I say, messing with my hands. He seems to doubt me for a moment before giving me a small smile and leaving. I lick my lips, eyeing the knives one more time before going up to my room.
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Authors note:
Does anyone remember we would play that game in middle school?!?!? (The knife goes chop chop chop) but we would use the eraser end of the pencil cause we were wusses. I played it the other day and I did it perfectly I was so proud of myself!😂
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe