Tether ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [2]

one

"400, 401, 402," Allison read off the metal plated numbers itemizing each apartment as we walked down the main corridor of our new building. Dad and I trailed closely behind, each of us with a large suitcase in arms.

We had driven all the way from the airport back into the familiar territory I had missed for four months, with the majority of our stuff packed in our car and the rest on the way.

"That's us," our father nodded towards the last door Allison had read off. As my sister and I moved out of his way, he moved forward and jammed the new key into the door; twisting it a few times before it finally caught and unlocked the entrance.

The three of us shuffled into the straight hallway with rooms on either side, bumping our suitcases against the wall as we did so before finally filtering into the larger living space.

"It's smaller," my sister noted. "But I like it."

"Me too," I grinned.

Downsizing from our unnecessarily large house four months ago as well as from the roomy country home in France, the change was notable. But it felt comfortable as it was truly all the space we really needed.

Besides, I was more excited about the fact that we had convinced our father to make the drastic move nothing more than an extended summer break as opposed to a permanent life change.

The three of us had definitely grown closer as a family after I finally forgave my father for forcing us to change our location so suddenly. Especially after recognizing how much he needed us without Mom around, I spent more time with Dad to bring us back to the bonded relationship we shared before Allison and I knew about werewolves.

Isolated most of the time with no school to attend or neighbors in close enough proximity to visit, we were forced to communicate with each other. Plus, we also had plenty of downtime to keep to ourselves.

Taking advantage of the scenic landscapes, I was finally able to pick up a paintbrush again and devote a portion of my time back to art. Within the first month of our stay, my makeshift bedroom had transformed into a wildly unorganized art gallery; the creativity grounding my senses and settling my loneliness whenever I thought about the town we had left behind.

However, this alone time also meant that the voices in my head were difficult to escape.

Unlike my father's prediction, the dreadful senses, feelings, and predictions had not disappeared during my time away. Arguably, they had grown stronger.

Without the fear of Gerard or even my mother looming over me in warning of what it would mean for an Argent to become something that was anything more than human, I managed to focus more on what I was feeling and share some of my experiences with both Dad and Allison. Due to the fact that my feelings were, fortunately, not as explosive as usual they were easier to handle and my family suggested that maybe my ability to take control of my psyche had improved.

However, in place of the painful surges of energy or screaming fits, there was more of the constant hum I had began to pick up on the night my mother died. They got louder when I went for walks into town, runs around the neighbourhood, or journeys to anywhere outside the walls of our country house, and at some points I made the mistake of believing there were people around me trying to engage in conversation.

But whenever I looked around to follow a voice or someone calling out a name, there was either no one there or everyone was simply going about their usual business; certain townspeople eyeing me suspiciously when I called out in reply or suddenly looked lost in the middle of the market square. Whenever I spoke to Dad about the voices and the fact that I kept hearing names listed out in my head like a roll call, he never seemed to have much of a response. Often, he did a lot of listening, nodding, and writing; his eyebrows furrowing before he muttered a simple statement thanking me for letting him know.