blue. [stiles stilinski]

[thirteen] childhood stories

TW- death

Nostalgia.

It's a peculiar concept right? The definition reads a sentimental longing or a wistful affection for the past. Often for a period or place with happy personal associations.

Rue Porter however, never felt this intense longing for the past. She didn't want back the days she hid from her father behind the big oak tree in the garden, holding her breath as he hollered at her mother, smashing everything they owned in the process.

The young girls childhood was snatched away by a sad insignificant man,  one who held no love within his soul, no compassion within his heart.

But what Rue did miss was her mother.

Quinn Porter.

The woman who was stolen from her, by the man who took everything from her. Her confidence, her childhood, her ability to trust.

Her father.

The sun was beaming down on the Porter house, Rue's father passed out on the couch, beer cans scattered across the living room and her mother seemingly busy inside the kitchen.

"Ally! Ally!" A young girl screamed with glee, running from her best-friend in a game of tag.

"I'm going to catch you!" The brunette shouted, grabbing her friend as they burst into fits of giggles.

There they lay, a young Rue Porter and Allison Argent. No awareness of how this day would end, yet totally serene and content in each other's company.

As she gained back her breath, Rue lifts herself up from the ground, using her elbow as support. "Is your dad mean?" The young girl asks, her face faltering a little when the words escaped her mouth.

Even at the young age of seven, Rue knew something in this household wasn't right.

"He shouts at me sometimes, likeeee when I don't listen to mom-"

"No I mean, does he hurt you guys, when he gets really angry?" Rue pushes, pleading for Allison to give her the answer she yearned for.

"No. Does yours?" Allison replies, picking at the grass, her mind not yet developed enough to understand the severity of this situation.

Rue shakes her head, standing up, "want lunch?"

The two girls make their way into the house, Rue signalling Allison to be quiet Incase her dad was woken up by them.

"Mom?" Rue whispers, looking around the kitchen.

"I don't think she's in here Rue." Allison states, smoothing out the creases of her blue floral dress.

The house was eerily silent, no sound of movement from anyone in the house except from Rue and Allison. The two wait there for a moment, hoping for Quinn to grace their company, Rue anxiously shifting from side to side until Allison spoke up.

"Want to come to mine for lunch instead?"

Relieved, Rue agrees, flouncing out of the door with her best-friend, hand in hand, not yet conformed to the horrors she would later experience.

A few hours later, seven year old Rue sprints to her home, a juice box sloshing around in her left hand. Shoes slightly untied and grass stains gracing her knees.

She, or so she thought, had experienced the most exciting day of her little life so far. So excited to tell her mother about all that she did, running upstairs as quickly as she could, with no intentions of stopping.

"Mom?" She whispers, sliding herself through the crack of her parents bedroom door.

The outline of her mother beneath the covers filled Rue with relief. She loved her mother endlessly, the way she fixed Rue up whenever her father took his anger out upon her, the late-night trips to the supermarket that posed more enjoyment than Christmas to Rue. But something in this room felt peculiar- something that even a child could sense.

Rue inched closer into the dim-lit bedroom, her dirty trainers leaving marks on the cream carpets.

"Mom, guess what!" She exclaimed, a little louder than last time, but still quiet enough to be considered a whisper.

But to her dissatisfaction, no reply.

Rue noticed that the medicine her mother took was spilled onto the bedside table, accompanied by a smashed glass dripping water onto the floor. So, the compassionate child that she was, took it upon herself to place the pills back into the container and soak up what water that had spilt, with a blanket tossed on the floor beside her.

Her mother must of been sleeping, she thought, climbing up onto the bed to see if that would shake her awake.

"Mom?" She said, a weird feeling creeping upon her, one that usually only bared its teeth when her father was around.

Rue used her little hands, to slowly pull down the bedsheets covering her mothers face. Introducing herself to a deep purple bruise underneath the eye of Quinn porter and a small slash across her eyebrow.

"Mommy? Are you okay?" She questions, no response becoming accustomed to her senses.

So there Rue Porter sat, a little girl just wanting to tell her mother about her day, just wanting a cuddle from the woman who cradled her from birth till now.

But what she didn't yet realise was that, these small pleasures would never, ever recur.

And when, this small helpless child wrapped her little arms around Quinn porter, placing a kiss on her cheek, and telling her she loved her, comforted by the floral perfume that her mom always wore. Her mother was not asleep. Her mother was not coming back. It was another thing, another loss at the hands of her father.