Demons - Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Chapter 7: Then We'll be Free

It's dark except for a slither of bright piercing light coming through the seam where the lid and the box meet on the old toy box I have been stuffed inside. My head is pounding from where I had smashed it against the floor when He threw me down the stairs of the basement. Usually, I would be out of here by now because Isaac got me out to go to school but it was different this time, he was angrier.

He had threatened Isaac that if he let me out, he would take a trip to his freezer, I know because that was the last thing I had heard last night before I blacked out. I'm glad Isaac didn't go against him. There's no point in both of us being stuck in here. Isaac doesn't deserve this. He always does what he's told and always tries his best in school. He knows the consequences and fears suffering them more than he wants to have fun.

Me on the other hand, I almost never do what I'm told, my need for adventure and mischief far outweighs the consequences. The fun I have with my friends, especially my boys is one of the only light parts of the dark that is my life.

I still hang out with Scott and Stiles despite being explicitly told not to ... repeatedly. I'm almost always home late from school. I mean sure I get good grades but that's more for my future than what Him. Maybe I should just do what he says for Isaac because I'm sure not going to do it just to give him the satisfaction.

If it wasn't for me Isaac wouldn't get in trouble for trying to help me. I should just do what he says... I mean I won't be stuck here forever or anything. Not if I have anything to say about it. It's just until I graduate. Just until college, I can do that..., right? Then we'll be free if his tyranny and all the pain he has caused us.

Suddenly the dark space floods with light. I cower away from the intensity of the light and close my eyes tight. I feel the fresh bruises on my back aching from the sudden movement and the cuts that had scabbed over open up and begin to bleed again. Softy hands gently push my matted hair behind my ear tilting my head I'm assuming in the direction of the owner of the hands.

The touch is familiar and gentle as though I'm made of fragile porcelain and they're afraid I'll break if they make the wrong movement or grip just a fraction too hard. Gingerly I open my eyes meeting eyes flooded with worry a similar colour to my own. Isaac.

His fingers gently brush over areas of my face I'm assuming where bruises now colour my usually pale skin. I glance down at the front of my shirt and see the blood seeping through the white tank top. I place my hand over the area where the wound is and look back into the eyes of my twin.

His eyes trail down my body to where my hand now rests. Horror floods his expression and he gently begins to put one of his arms under my knees and the other around my back slowly standing to carry me up both flights of stairs and into our tiny shared bedroom.

He lowers me gently onto the small lumpy bed that we share before rushing out of the room, probably to fetch the first aid kit to patch me up. This isn't the first time I've gotten a little cut up, but it was never this bad before, he's never done it purposefully before. Only ever accidentally when he's hit too hard.

The pale blue walls provided no warmth or comfort to our room as though the very colour of the room is confirming our notion that nowhere in this building is safe. Not a thing was out of place because we know that if it was, we'd get a little more than grounded for it. All the school books we keep here are aligned on a shelf on the wall opposite the bed the tallest books on the left to the shortest book on the right. The books were supported by a small blue and red robot figure on the left and a pink and purple unicorn on the right. They had been presents from our parents on our third birthday before Mom left us. The floors were a faded wood and had a couple of scratches near the door where we've tried to prevent him dragging us out of here a couple of times, deeper than those in the basement.

My view of the scratch marks is then blocked by the pair of old battered black Converse of my twin. In his hands, he carries a bundle of white bandage, a bottle of alcohol and a couple of cotton pads for my wounds. He slowly crosses the tiny room as though afraid I would bolt like a terrified wounded deer. As he takes a seat next to me on our bed, I slowly lift the hem of my shirt over my head as I had plenty of times before.

Isaac sucks in a quick breath before pouring a little bit of alcohol onto one of the cotton pads. The cuts stretch across my stomach left to right at a slight angle. He dabs the cotton gently against an oozing slash. It isn't the only cut I have their either. The skin under the cut is also marred with scars and there are even a few slashings down my back, some from knives, others from a particularly nasty belt buckle.

I wince at the stinging sensation as he mumbles apologies, which I quickly dismiss with a wave of my hand but maintain the grimace on my face.

After he had bandaged me up and I had changed into blood-free clothes, disposing of the others, we lay on our bed in each other's embrace seeking comfort and reassurance that we're both still here and relatively okay.

"I'm going to be okay Issy. I have a plan and it will be all okay again. We just have to make it until we graduate and then we'll be okay again," I mumble into his chest. He sighs and runs his fingers through my chocolate coloured curls.

"Car that's not for another three years how can I be sure that you'll be okay by that stage? How can I be sure that we'll both make it through this? You're my little sister I'm supposed to worry about other boys at school hurting you not our father," Isaac mumbled into the top of my hair.

"Hey, you're only older by like five minutes and I'm positive we'll both make it through this we're strong and it'll take a little more than a controlling sociopath to get rid of us," I say into his shirt slightly pushing his shoulder in a joking manner.

"Yeah I guess so," he smiles slightly.

"Just until graduation. Then we'll be free."