bruised//«stiles stilinski»

Part 8

I wake up to the noise of my dad crashing around downstairs. It's 6am. But, then again, today is the day of my mother's birthday.

You'd think it'd get easier as the time goes by. It's been about 14 months. It's no easier. Sighing, I climb out of bed and take off my pyjamas, examining my mutilated body. Cuts, scratches, and bruises scatter themselves across my pale skin, causing a high contrast between the blood red and white. My veins are very blue and stand out. I stare at my face, terrified of my own reflection. I don't even look like me anymore. My eyes are dull and tired- not to mention bruised. My cheeks are hollow and my whole face has slimmed down. I don't eat anymore. At least, not much. The cut on my forehead is still gaping wide, but is no longer bleeding.

After showering, I get dressed and go downstairs. I leave the house early, ignoring my (not surprisingly) yelling, drunk dad, and drive to the cemetery.

"Hey, mom." I say, as I approach her grave. The date still haunts me; I remember the moment I found her body in the bath tub. A shiver is sent down my spine and I kneel down beside my mother's head stone, placing a small bouquet of flowers I picked up on my way, down onto the grass.

"I'm sorry I don't visit often. I'm sorry about most things actually. Anyway, it hurts coming here, you know?" I feel stupid talking to thin air, but I don't really care anymore.

"Happy birthday, mom." I whisper, resting a hand on the stone, tracing the dates carved in. I sniff, and realise I'm crying.

"I miss you." I say, slowly standing up from my kneeling position. Giving the grave one last glance, I turn and walk back to my car.

I'm late to school, and have to half jog into the building.

"Shit..." I mumble as I speed walk to my lesson.

I slowly open the door and the whole class's attention falls on me as I walk in.

"Mr Stilinski! Nice of you to join us. Mind telling me where on earth you've been?" Asks Mr Harris, staring at the mud on my knees left from kneeling in the grass.

"Uh, sorry, sir. I was busy." I mutter, walking to my seat. Scott gives me a confused look.

"Busy doing what, exactly?" Asks Mr Harris, an eyebrow raised. I sigh.

"I just had to do something, okay?!" I say back defensively, making the class snigger. Scott tells someone laughing to shut up. I bite my nails and pray my idiot teacher will back off.

Even Mr Harris chuckles menacingly at me.

"What, d'you get beaten up on your way to school or something?" Laughs some jock from the corner of the room, making everyone else giggle too, also drawing attention to my abused face. I feel my cheeks burning.

"So, Stilinski? Did ya?" Asks Mr Harris, a smug grin creeping on his face, clearly amused. They're not gonna let this go.

"Yeah, I did." I mutter, my head down as the class start laughing again.

"Okay, everyone, just shut up!" Roars Scott, standing up from his seat. The class goes into a stunned silence. I look at him, confused.

"Scott, just sit down." I tell him, shrugging. "It's fine." I say.

"No it's not fine, Stiles!" Exclaims Scott. I hold my breath and wait for him to start talking again.

"McCall, sit down right now!" Yells Mr Harris. Scott huffs frustratedly but slumps back into his seat. I roll my eyes and look down at my hands. Small cuts cover my skin.

"Stilinski, talk to me at the end of class." Snaps Mr Harris, making me jump. I nod lazily, muttering "okay" under my breath.

***
The bell goes, and I realise I did nothing the whole lesson. I stay behind as everyone else leaves the room, until just Mr Harris and I are left alone. I walk up to his desk, my hands in my pockets.

"Stilinski, you got beat up?" Asked Harris, staring at the bruise on my face.

"I guess." I mutter, looking away from him.

"You guess? So, you didn't get beat up? Stilinski, where were you?" Asks Harris, folding his arms.

"At the cemetery." I say.

"Huh. Why?" He asks, a disgusting smile on his lips, amused.

"It's my mom's birthday. I went to visit. Can I go now?" I ask, but don't wait for an answer and just walk out the room.
***

At lunch, I scan the halls for Scott, but then see a familiar face stood alone. Malia. I walk over, avoiding getting too tight within the crowd, and she sees me and smiles.

"Stiles... Hey." She says. I smirk at her.

"Hey, Malia. So, uh, you wanna go sit somewhere?" I ask awkwardly, scratching the back of my head.

"Sure." She smiles, and we walk outside together and take a seat on a bench.