I N S T I N C T | Jackson Whittemore

49: keep going

Keep Going
Chapter 49

Stiles Stilinski sat in Miss Morrell's office, the guidance counselor, otherwise known as Deaton's sister. Miss Morrell was also a teacher who knew more about Beacon Hills than Stiles could dream.

He didn't trust her. He didn't even like her. But by court superior law, he was forced to talk to her.

So it said on his plea of innocence.

No one could explain the mutilated bodies at the Sheriff's Station, or the claws marks that rained down the hallways, or the bullet holes fired by the Argents while they were attacking.

In his chair Stiles focused on the lacrosse stick in front of him, weaving the net in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Even patterns, up, down, in, out.

Up, down, in, out.

He found a comforting calmness in the strokes as he began to open up, "You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out," he said. "It's called voluntary apnea," he continued. "It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding."

Right when the call had came over the radio, Stiles had rushed to Bear Creek to see them pull the body of a young teenage boy from the water. Just by the look of his swollen face, Stiles knew it was Matt...

Someone had drown him.

"But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore," Stiles paused, swallowing. "I-it's actually kind of peaceful..."

Miss Morell watched Stiles with a careful eye, her face devoid of emotion as she asked, "Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

Stiles countered, rather defensively, for his statements, "I don't feel sorry for him," he said.

Miss Morrell nodded, "Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?"

Flashes of the dead deputies that laid around Stiles as he was paralyzed, echoed in the back of his mind. That was something he would never erase from his memory. That was something Matt did, and he made sure that Stiles's was watching ... because he knew. He knew what it would do to him.

"Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one," Stiles sneered, sitting up.

He pointed a finger at the sky, "And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Annie on Matt's computer... and not just of her though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures," Stiles dwelled, using an excessive amount of hand movements. He shook his head, "Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship," he scrunched his nose up at the idea of Annie ever being near the creep.

If he would have ever land a hand on her...

Stiles sat back in his seat, playing with the end of his lacrosse stick to calm him down. He sighed, his eyes never leaving the net, "So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Miss Morrell nodded, she understood. She noted a few things that Stiles was showing. An odd recipient of grief, remorse, and most of all... blame. Was he blaming the latest occurrences on himself? It was hard to tell without him fully opening up. Either way, she knew when it was time to change the subject.