rrrowr:sometimes you get this look on your face that makes me wonder what you could become.the room

rrrowr:sometimes you get this look on your face that makes me wonder what you could become.the room is musty and old — faded wallpaper and windows so thick with dirt that it’s impossible to see through them — and there’s no furniture but for two chairs and a narrow table against the wall. crumpled between the chairs, a person is hogtied rather clumsily, and blood is pooling on the floor beneath their mouth. for the purposes of this story, it doesn’t matter who this person is. it only matters that they are alive — broken, but definitely alive.our interest lies with the second occupant: stiles stilinski, a young man on the cusp of adulthood with his hair shorn close. stiles is rubbing his wrists, which are red with rope burn, and inspecting his knuckles, flexing them to ease the pain. he has his cell phone tucked between his shoulder and his cheek, and he’s asking rather urgently after the condition of his father and his friends.whatever is reported to him is neither good nor bad — his father and friends are not well, it seems, but they’re safe… stable — and stiles’ lips stretch out into a flat, unhappy line.“good okay. thank you,” he says. “no, it’s good. that’s what i wanted to know.”stiles tidies up the end of the conversation as he kneels next to the other person in the room and then tucks his phone into his pocket. he scoops his hand under their face and makes them look at him. they attempt to sputter words and blood spills out onto his hand.stiles grimaces. “you’re lucky today that everyone i care about is still alive,” he tells them.“be thankful for my restraint,” he says as he squeezes around their jaw to hear them whimper and drops them back to the floor before stalking out with blood sticking between his fingers. -- source link
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