It's Always Going to be You. (2nd book to HIABY?)

Chapter 13- Matt's aftermath and the Championship Game.

^Two chapter's left guys!! Ahh soo much excitement!! :D^

~Several days later- Ms.Morrell’s office.

*Stiles pov*

“You know when you're drowning; you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. 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. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting, it’s not scary anymore, it’s actually kind of peaceful.” I said as I continued to mess with my lacrosse stick. “Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?” Ms. Morrell’s asked. “I don't feel sorry for him.” I said to her. “Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?” She asked me. I rolled my eyes, “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. And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer, and not just of her though. I mean, he photo shopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing, you know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. 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.” I said. “One positive thing came out of this though, Right?” She asked referring to my dad getting his job back. “Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us.” I said. “What do you mean?” she asked, “I don't know, It's just like tension when we talk, same thing with Scott.” I said. “Have you talked to him since that night?” she asked me. "No, not really. I mean, he's got his own problems to deal with though, at least that’s what Sadie tells me.” I said. “Yeah? So you’ve talked to Sadie, how is she?” she asked me. I stopped messing with the lacrosse stick and I looked up at her,” You’ve talked to her, why do I have to tell you, you’re the therapist here.” I said. She smiled,” That’s true but I’d like to know how you guys are from your point of view.” She said, “Wait, Sadie talks about us with you?” I asked her and she gave me a look, “Right, sorry. Um, well she calls me in the middle of the night, asking if I’m okay. She has nightmares of him, I don’t think it’s totally sunk in with her that Matt’s dead and he can’t hurt her anymore. Um, she’s been really- how do I put it- affectionate I guess.” I said, “Does that bother you?” Ms. Morrell asked, “No, of course not. I’m just worried about her and it’s more than usual lately.” I said, “Well, that’s understandable, with everything’s that happened, it’s completely normal.” She said and I just nodded and changed the subject not wanting to talk about me and Sadie anymore, “I don’t think Scott’s talked to Allison either, but that might be more her choice, you know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard, but I guess it brought her and her dad closer.” I said, “And what about Jackson?” Ms.Morrell asked, “Jackson? Well Jackson hasn’t really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal.” I finished and I put my lacrosse rope in my mouth to tighten it around the stick. “And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?” Ms. Morrell asked me. “Why would you ask me that? “ I asked with the rope in my mouth and then I knew why and I stopped messing with my lacrosse stick,”Ah, uh, no. I-I never actually play, but hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?” I asked. “You mean, Isaac, One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?” she asked me and I avoided the question, “How come you're not taking any notes on this?” I asked her, “I do my notes after the session.” She said, “Your memory's that good?” I said skeptically. “How about we get back to you, Stiles?” She said. “I’m fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen.” I said. “It's called hypervigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat.” She said, “But it's not just a feeling, though. It's -it's like it's a panic attack, you know, like I can't even breathe.” I said. “Like you're drowning?” she asked and I looked up at her,”Yeah.” I said. “So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth, to not let the water in?” she said. “Well, you do anyway It's a reflex.” I said. “But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?” she said. “Not much time.” I said. “But more time to fight your way to the surface?” she asked, “I guess.” I said. “More time to be rescued?” she said. “More time to be in agonizing pain, and did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?” I said to her. “If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?” she asked. “What if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now and then and it's just hell later on?” I asked not buying it. “Winston Churchill once said,” If you’re going through hell, keep going.” She said.