Unexpected: Book 1

Twenty-Two

(A/N: victim blaming, slight mentions of unwanted touch in the first half)

Spring break has always been my favorite week of April. I'd spend the entire week doing nothing but relaxing. Stiles and I would have movie marathons, Danny and I would go to the lake, and it was always my favorite break because it reminded me that summer was just around the corner.

This year was something else entirely. I wasn't staying up late and sleeping in, instead I was hardly sleeping at all. I wasn't spending time with Danny either, this year I was barely responding to his texts with one word responses.

After Friday night and finding Scott, I was relieved– he was okay and that meant more to me than anything. But the whole Marcus thing had been stuck in my head, memories of the past trying to pull me into a depression of sorts.

I could feel it waiting, in the back of my mind, trying to creep in and take me down to it's pit. But every time it got close, I dodged it. It was like running from a serial killer, the amount of energy it took to differ the darkness. Only in my scenario, the killer was my own mind. And I had to run. There was no other option here.

The only thing that seemed to help was doing tasks. It was insane, how hard I tried to keep myself busy.The entire house had been spring cleaned. The bathrooms were reorganized, the living room rearranged, the kitchen cabinets completely emptied, cleaned, and stocked again.

It was when I started scrubbing the walls and baseboards for the second time that Scott and Stiles finally stepped in.

I was on day three of a cycle where I'd clean until my body would give out and I'd then shower, sleep and then wake up and do it again.

Currently, I was on my hands and knees, my hair pulled back in a messy bun and my body damp with sweat. I probably looked like a mess but, I could feel his breath on my skin again and I had to keep cleaning.

Fueled by my memories, I scrubbed the sponge harder against the already cleaned boards. I can't go back there. Spending two weeks in bed and the shower was bad enough the first time around, I didn't want to do it again. I was tired of feeling like this about someone who didn't deserve it. It was like he was controlling my life, forcing me to think about him when that was the last thing I wanted to do.

As tears burned in my eyes I let out a noise of frustration, dropping my sponge and bringing my hands to hide my face. No, no, go away, I pleaded. I could feel the tired, sadness creeping in, pulling me down quickly. It started in my chest, pulling it until it felt like I physically couldn't breathe if I didn't go lay down right now.

I refused to do what it wanted.

I took a shaky breath, picking up my sponge and beginning to scrub again, this time more aggressively. I would put every bit of myself into this task, until I was so exhausted by it that the depression couldn't get to me. I'd be too tired to do anything, let alone think and feel. Yes, that's what I'd do.

A hand grabbed my wrist and I immediately flinched back, falling backwards onto my butt from the force of my movement. My racing heart only calmed when I noticed that it was just Stiles. I could see the worry in his eyes, the concern in Scott's too, who was standing not far behind my brother.

I forced a laugh, trying to look nonchalant as I placed a hand to my racing heart, "my god, Sti, you scared the shit out of me." I went to grab the sponge and get back to cleaning but, Stiles took it from me, pulling it out of reach. "Hey, give me that."

"No, you've been cleaning that same spot for over an hour," Stiles shook his head, beginning to pick up the rest of my cleaning supplies. "You're officially off cleaning duty."