stilinskispatentedmethod:

I’m done. I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m done. I…I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. The words played themselves over and over in his head as he sat on the ground, fiddling with the object he held in his hands. It’s too much. Everything hurts, and I just—it won’t stop. We thought it was over, but it won’t stop. Stiles thought back to the letter he probably should have written to his dad. Instead of explaining like he should have, he’d just written two words.

Sorry, Dad.

Would he know immediately when seeing it? Stiles couldn’t help but think so. He swallowed, his grip tightening. Was he having second thoughts? Maybe, but they were only brief. He just—he couldn’t. It was still there, and because it was dying and its mind was decaying, so was he. Everything was going wrong and he just—he couldn’t. It was better. It would stop soon.

He wasn’t sure where he was, but he didn’t really care, staring at what he held in his hands. They’d find him eventually. Scott would be able to find him, or the deputies would. Maybe even Derek. Someone would find him, and it would be okay again. Really, it would be.

He repeated that to himself softly, mumbling under his breath. “Really, it’s going to be okay. I can’t let you in, but I can end it for both of us.” He was reassuring not only himself, but the monster inside of him, the thing that wouldn’t stop screeching and filled his head with despair. He thought back to the last thing he said to his dad, to Scott, to Lydia, to everyone who cared.

I’m fine, don’t worry.

Summer wasn’t exactly paying attention to where she was going. Hands in her pockets, she simply wandered, trusting instinct to guide her back when she was ready to go home.

She suspected it would be a while. It usually was when she tried to run away from herself.

She hadn’t actually got that far, though, when something impinged on her consciousness. Well, someone. Someone loud, and in a lot of pain. Unsurprisingly, her feet were carrying her right toward the source.

Summer allowed herself a single, deep sigh. In some ways, she hated this part of herself. But this was what she was for. All she was for. So she mentally squared her shoulders and stopped in front of the figure. “Hey. What’s wrong?”