Chaos Rising

2

Stiles

I chose to live.

I was too weak, too scared to let myself die. And now I will pay the price.

As soon as my lips part, I choke. My hands shoot to my neck, but I am too late. The realization hits me like a bus, knocking the air from my lungs. I am choking on the fly, the small, black bug is stuck in my throat. It found a way in, and it took it. I gag, doubling over onto my hands an knees.

It is this very fly that had ruined my life before this.

A fly... a common, black house fly, barely the size of a dime. It is quite horrifying to think that this tiny insect could have been the end of most of my friends, Derek, Issac, Aiden and Ethan... it had been a fly, just like this one, that had caused them to turn on each other. And all flies, ones just like this, belong to the Nogitsune.

All they need to do is find a way into your body, and that is exactly what he has done.

It saw my moment of weakness, and he did not hesitate. I find myself standing now, staggering across the room and towards my desk, I grip the table, gasping. I reach out for the glass of water, but my hand over stretches, knocking it over. The glass shatters loudly on the floor, shards go flying across the hardwood.

And I drop to my knees, choking, gagging, heaving, but I am only able to produce, weak, muffled sobs. Then, it all goes away. The fly is gone. I swallow, and my face pales. With wide eyes, I look up into the darkness of my room.

I just swallowed the fly.

I already knew that my mind works differently than others, I realize it whenever I laugh under pressure, or make a bad joke to lighten the mood. But after listening to my own thoughts while having a fly stuck in my throat, I think I might have a problem.

I think every kid remembers that one song, The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly. Though I am not an old lady, I did swallow a fly, and the second I started choking on the fly, that exact song popped into my head:

I know an old lady,
She swallowed a fly.
I don't know why
She swallowed the fly.
I guess she'll die.

It is the last part that concerns me.

I know I will not die, but one might call it a fate much worse than death.

As my mind goes though verse after verse of the song, I remain silent. He is back, the Nogitsune is back, and and this time, I am too weak to resist. The last time he took over he left me empty, and I have never really recovered. Though I never told anybody, not even Scott, I have never felt the same after Void. Almost as though, in a way, he has never really left me. I am always paranoid, my nightmares have only gotten worse with each passing night. I have lived in fear, every single second of every single day, that he will find me once again.

And now he has.

Sure, we had killed him, Scott changed him, giving him the bite so he could be neither fox nor wolf at the same time... and he died, materializing to dust right in front of me.

There is only one way for him to be here, in my mind.

Someone must have released him.

We had captured the single fly that emerged from the dust, containing it in a jar and placing that jar back in the Nemeton, where he would never get out. Ever. But what we hadn't anticipated was someone releasing him on their own free will.

"Stiles." A familiar voice hisses, my own name echoes through my mind, and despite my need for air, I hold my breath once more. My vision strains, blurring, colours mixing.

I sit back against my bed, my hands trembling once more. There is a darkness taking over me, a shadow covering my vision with thoughts and words that are not mine. I blink, not once, but twice, then three times. It is all I can seem to do. There is no escaping it, there is no escaping him. He has found me, and I can't do anything about it.

I find myself tensing up, I ball my fists uselessly at my side, I clench my jaw as I eye the pair of scissors sitting on my desk. If I die, so does he. So I will die. I lunge forwards, grabbing the handle and without a second thought, I plunge the two blades towards my neck.

But I don't make it.

Something - or rather someone - stops me. The tip of the blades hover just a few millimeters from my skin, my hand is stuck in place. I strain, putting all my energy into finishing the job, but he won't let me. My arm goes limp, and the scissors tumble to the ground, making a loud thud on the hardwood floor. I cannot hold him back, not this time. He does not need to ask for an invitation to my brain, he knows I can't fight back.

He knows I am too weak.

I feel my energy stripped away, ripped clean from my body.Even though I can see the world around me, I'm not in control. I can see my bed, the scissors sitting on the ground, the shattered glass surrounded by spilt water. But it is as though I am watching my own actions through a screen.

I am not the one in control, not anymore.

Void

I blink.

The action is so insignificant yet so satisfying.

I've won.

A slight smirk tugs at my lips, and I bend down to pick up the scissors. I hear the bedroom door creak open, with it comes the bright light from the hallway, cutting through the darkness like soft butter.

"Stiles?" Someone says from the doorway. "You alright? I heard something break."

I glance up to see Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles' father.

"Yeah, Dad." I straighten. "I just stubbed my toe on the desk and knocked a glass off, it's all good." I place the scissors on the table and bend back down to start sweeping the glass into a pile with my hand. I look up to see him watching me. "Sorry if I woke you." I add.

"Oh, no, you didn't wake me." His expression changes, becoming almost calmer, he offers a tired smile. "I've been downstairs working on a case, been up for a while now."

"What case? Can I help?" I ask, placing false enthusiasm in my voice, knowing that it is exactly what Stiles would say. The Sheriff seems to think about it, then shakes his head. "Why not?" I purposely tint a whine in my tone.

"You need to get some sleep." He says as I push myself from the floor. "It's," he raises his watch to his eye level, "it's almost four in the morning, and you have school tomorrow, so don't worry about that now." He nods at the small pile of glass I had collected. "And use a broom, don't cut yourself." He rolls his sleeve back over the wrist watch and takes a quick glance around the room, as if sensing that something isn't right.

His shape lingers in the doorway for a moment longer, the he shoves the suspicion aside. With that, he closes the door, sucking the light from the room. "Goodnight Stiles." He calls from the hallway, I hear his footsteps retreat down the stairs.

This is going to be easier than I thought.