Beacon ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [1] EDITING

thirty one

*tw: this chapter includes talk of suicide due to Victoria Argent's death and a suicide letter. if you copy this into your address bar: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines you will find a resource of global prevention lines*

The cold, numbing pain didn't go away when I got home.

Allison quickly shut herself away in her room, leaving me to trudge over to my own; Dad turning to a drink of whiskey downstairs before setting his mind on the next plan of attack.

He hadn't given us any explanation other than a few broken sentences of "Derek killed her," even though it had been deemed suicide by the doctors. And by the silver dagger I had envisioned Dad help drive into her heart.

Along with the aching headache pounding in my temples, there was a static of whispers in my mind that were making me want to break out into a scream again. Being mentally exhausted, I couldn't understand any coherent words from the noise coursing through my veins, but it kept growing louder anyway as I ripped off my party dress and covered myself in a large flannel - stolen from my father's closet years ago - and black athletic pants.

The hum of voices flooded my mind and I felt dizzy. I had never noticed them before after a scream, but they were present now and I wondered if this was what traumatic shock and grief did to the brain.

I was in disbelief and grieving, and trying not to let my guilt lead me to being physically sick when I thought that the last discussion with Mom had been to shrug her off.

Static and buzzing attacking my mind, I flopped onto my bed and crushed a pillow over my ears; only to bite my cheek and growl when that failed to silence the sounds.

Tears were flooding down my face when an assertive knock sounded at my door, followed by the footsteps of Gerard entering my room which caused me to wonder why he even bothered to knock in the first place or why the doors didn't come with built-in locks.

His face, wrinkled and painted with fake sadness, made my gut wrench.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he cooed and I held down my sickness.

"I don't want to talk. Please go away."

I didn't want to discuss what had just happened with anyone, maybe Allison if she hadn't closed her door on me, but even then I desperately wanted to be alone to cry; not yet sure if my tears were due to the abrupt loss of my mother or the pain in my head.

"I'm not sure if there's anything I can say," Gerard distracted me from the white noise that was making me feel uncertain if the suffering for the night was really over. "But there are some things I'm sure your mother could explain. She left me something, which I wanted to give to you.-"

He produced a small white envelope from his pocket and held it up to me. I clenched my jaw and stared at it.

"Your mother wrote a suicide note for us to turn in to the police, but she also wrote notes for you and your sister," he spoke, inching the envelope closer. "If I give this to you, you have to destroy it immediately."

I furrowed my eyebrows at the word 'if'.

"Why wouldn't you give it to me? She didn't write it for you," squinting at him, I grabbed the note quickly from Gerard and my eyes glued to the neat cursive writing scrawled across the smooth paper that addressed the envelope to me.

"Well I already gave Allison hers, but you seem to be in an unstable state. I wouldn't want to do anything to further upset you."

"I'm fine," I retorted quietly. "If it's for me, I have to read it."