Goner

I'm a goner

He stared out his window, his eyes resting on the sight of the bright crescent moon, hanging in the lonely starless night. The darkness enclosed around it, a blanket of deep blue and black.

He couldnt help but sympathize with the large rock that caused his friends such agony once a month.

Lonely and solemn in the vast emptiness, drowning in the darkness that surrounds it. Like him.

The darkness that is deep inside, enclosing around him, suffocating and choking him, making it impossible to ignore. Not that he could, it clung to him like a second skin. Surrounding all his thoughts and actions, his feelings and emotions, all of them tinted by its decimating corruption.

He had his long gangly arms wrapped around his long knobbly legs, his boney knees pulled to his chest, his body curled into a ball.

He'd lost weight. His legs were too skinny, you could see his veins like snakes under his pale milky white skin. His face sunken in, cheecks like a skeleton, eyes sunken and surrounded by a deep color that could actually rival the space around the moon he was fixated on.

That's what happens when you stop eating, you start to lose weight, hair, complexion, enamel on your teeth, strength; emotionally and physically. A simple knock to the shin can result in ugly green and yellow bruises. A simple paper cut can result in a trip to the nurse for a bandage.

He didn't care though. It didn't matter, nothing did. He embraced the pain, it made him feel not so void. It showed him that he was really there, and not just some figment of his imagination.

He raised a hand and started to count his fingers. One two three... even then, he wasn't sure what's real and what's not. Pain meant material, which meant reality, which meant not his imagination. He didn't know what was a dream and what was reality. He was getting to the point that he almost didn't care. Either way it wasn't looking good for him.

After the Nogitsune was defeated, he'd never been... right. He wasn't the same as he was before. No one was actually.

Allison and Aidens deaths were a hard blow to all of them.

Chris was handling it surprisingly well for a man who had lost his daughter. He helped Scott through it.

Scott... Scott went into a deep depression. Not the kind that makes you feel weak and sad, this was the kind that filled you with fury, and vengeance. The Alpha pretended that he was okay, he had Kira to help him, and Melissa. But anyone could see that he no longer had that certain light in his eye. He had a dark fury that scared the Kitsune sometimes.

Lydia went on with her life. She continued with school, looking perfect and being Queen Bee. Emphasis on the "B". She'd went total Regina George on the school. She was extra bitchy and rude, she didn't spare a glance at anyone but Kira and Malia.

Derek hadn't been seen except for Pack meetings which Stiles hadn't went to for weeks.

He didn't feel like he deserved to.

He didnt deserve to.

He deserved to be alone. To rot and fade away into nothing.

He glanced back at the moon. It was all alone, no stars to keep him from going completely insane.

Stiles was alone too.

Scott didn't talk to him, only gave him a tight lipped smile in school. No impromptu visits through his windows. No texts or Skype calls.

Lydia didn't acknowledge him at all.

Kira gave him sympathetic glances, and Malia acted as if he didn't exist. Though he can't blame them. Kira was a kitsune, and Stiles was processed by a Nogitsune. And Malia only knew him because of Eichen House which was just a weakness for the both of them.

Issac gave him fearful glances, as if he was something to fear. Which sometimes, he thought he was.

Derek hadn't made contact with him at all, he only knew they still had pack meetings because he'd over heard Scott and Issac talking about it in Biology.

His dad is probably what hurts the most.

He works long hours- as many as he can- and Stiles knows why. He sees the looks his father gives him when her thinks he's not looking. Disappointment, sadness, fear. And that's what hit the lanky teen most. The fear he sees on his father's face when he lashed out at the fridge when it became too much.

Stiles sighed and looked at his clock. It read 4:30. He was tired, his body feeling the exhaustion. His eye lids heavy.

But they couldn't close.

And it they did they would fly open again as he screamed to an empty house; clawed at his blankets or arms, clutching his pillow and crying into it.

He thumped his head on his headboards and looked back to the moon. He closes his eyes for a second and a flash of a deformed person, gauze wrapped around is face, the only part shown are the black razor teeth oozing a dark goo. Laughter filling his ears.

He snapped his eyes open and tried to calm his speedy breaths. His heart beat like a rabbit in his chest and his stomach ached in frustration at its emptiness.

He counted to twenty then backwards trying to calm himself.

"You're okay. He's not there, he's gone. You're alone. You're alone; nothings coming to get you. You're alone" he chanted to himself staring at the moon as if it was his anchor.

It was the truth.

He was alone.
(Follow me on TikTok too: @ybcomplicated)