Chapter Text
Stiles doesn't know how much time has passed; all he can think of at the moment is the agony running inside his body. God, it hurts so much that he can't even think straight. Somewhere in the basement, Stiles hears the whines and growls of Erica and Boyd, who can't hold it back after receiving another punch from Gerard's goons. Stiles means to say something, but he is stopped by another punch in the face by Gerard right into his face, which causes him to lie immobilized on the cold floor once again. When the bucket of cold water suddenly appears, splashing all over his face, Stiles believes he has passed out for the moment.
- Oh, Stiles... It has been fun, but it's also getting exhausting. This is your last chance! Tell me something about the dogs of yours, or else I will put an end to your miserable life!
A sickly sweet voice rings through his ears while a pair of firm hands from someone hold him up in a straight-kneeling position. Opening his eyes, which takes a lot of strength, Stiles lifts his face slightly, only to see the person standing right in front of him. "Yup! That's fucking Gerard Argent" - Stiles tells himself in his mind.
Glancing at Erica and Boyd and seeing that they are snarling and growling with all their baring teeth while hanging in the cellar and being electricity at the same time, Stiles somehow could still see the horror in their eyes. They are scared and horrified for his life, for their lives, and for the pack.
At this very moment, Stiles wants nothing more than to spit out some retorts, but the beating really gets him as weakness is soaking into his bone. But there is something about the Stilinski that people should know: they will never give up without a fight—or lots of them. Deciding to just rile these maniacs up, he spits out the blood towards Gerard's face and says:
- Go...fuck...yourself!
And of course, as a result, a punch lands on his stomach and makes him squirm with agony! Gods, maybe he should have listened when people told him to shut his mouth, but well, where is the fun in that?
- Oh...Stiles! It appears to me that you won't say anything! And I have no time for your stupid loyalty to those dogs. So, seems like those dogs abandoned you. No one comes for you, Stiles. See! That's why I call them monsters. But anyway, I got tired of your stupid loyalty, and you brought it on yourself. That's why, instead of making you tell us about your dogs, you will be our message to them!
Turning to his goons, Gerard spits out the command.
- Get rid of him!
Antonio and Paul, the names of Gerard's goons, hover over Stiles, grab his hand, and drag him out of the basement, right in front of the horrified faces of Erica and Boyd.
With all of his will, which he doesn't even know he still has at this moment, Stiles raises his face to stare at Erica and Boyd. Being too injured to talk or be able to do anything, Stiles can only send his heartfelt condolences to them. This is it! This is going to be how they all die tonight. There'll be no tomorrow for them to see, no more sunlight on a new day to admire, and all they can do is brave their souls on the road to Hell.
Seemly understanding the look on Stiles's face, tears rolled out of Erica's cheeks, and the sorrow filled Boyd's face.
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Being dragged out of the basement under Argent's house and tucked inside the black SUV, Stiles lies motionless in the backseat. Those last words of Gerard echo inside his brain. It shot right through his heart and shattered it into millions of pieces. And despite his best efforts, Stiles still can't help but wonder if it's true that the pack has abandoned him.
Because let's just face it... He's been kidnapped and tortured for hours, which seems like days to him, and still...no one looks for him! He is still here, lying in the backseat of those people who hurt him so badly that he has difficulty breathing. They can kill him at this very moment, and no one will know because, you know, no one is searching...
Suddenly, the realization hits him so hard that he can't breathe! Antony? Pauly? What the fuck kind of names are those? They are going to kill him right now, and he is hopeless; he can't even do anything to prevent it! And his dad, oh God! His dad, what is he gonna do if he finds out there is a body buried in the wood that belongs to his son? What is his dad gonna feel when he loses a son? There is a word for children who lost their parents, but there is no word for parents who lost their kids! That feeling must be...torturous. And that feeling is brought to his dad by...Stiles; as Gerard said: "He brought it on himself".
Stiles cannot do this to his dad; he just cannot do it! After everything that they go through, after the loss of their beloved one—his mom—and after all the lies he tells through his teeth to his dad's face, Stiles cannot let his dad face another tragedy by losing his only son. Stiles struggles to stand up; he tries to get out of this car cause he needs to go find his dad...but he is unsuccessful, and then suddenly, a punch lands on his face, making him completely blackout!
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Being awakened by the slamming sound of the car's door, Stiles almost blacked out again when the pain hit him with another wave. Looking around, Stiles suddenly sees that he or should he say, they're near the preserve now.
Completely ignoring the pain they cause when dragging Stiles out of the car, Gerard's goons drag him deep into the preserve. For each step, Stiles knows very well that he's walking into his death but is unable to do anything besides struggling all the way and failing miserably.
And for what seems like a lifetime, they finally stop in the middle of nowhere in the preserve. Gerard's minions push Stiles forward, leading him to crash into a very large tree that was cut down and now looks like a large stump. One of the goons, Paul, Stiles guess, who the fuck cares? pulls out a hunting knife at the same time as the other goon - Antony? pulls out a handgun and points straight at his head.
A chill runs down Stiles's spine seeing the scene in front of him. He knows there is no way he can get out of this situation now. In the moment of weakness, the thought of begging for his life shows up. But as soon as it appears, Stiles immediately shuts it down. The moon tonight might witness his death, and the wind might cry for his soul, which is soon to be cut short. But he will never, ever give those bastards the satisfaction of listening to him beg for his life. Instead, Stiles grinds his teeth so hard that he can taste blood—or has it already been there? Stiles stares down at the two men in front of him with so much burning hatred that Stiles is surprised that he has it in him in the first place. Seems like even at the end of his very short life, life still decides to teach him a new thing after all!
Seeing the hatred in Stiles's eyes, one of Gerard's goons kneels in front of him with a maniacal smile on his face. The goon says:
- Stiles, isn't it? God! It is beautiful listening to your scream, but too bad, the boss told us to get rid of you. Just to be clear, all of this is...on you! You know why, right? Because you run with those filthy monsters, and for that, I will give you a very slow, painful death.
After that, wasting no time, the maniac goon slashes Stiles's torso with his hunting knife, continuing with several stabs through his chest, his stomach, his legs... No wounds are brutal enough to give him the death sentence immediately, but there will be a lot of blood lost if left untreated. And then it comes to Stiles: This bastard wants him to bleed out until there's nothing left! Fuck!
Lying down on the ground on his back, looking up to the moon and God, it is beautiful. How can the moon be that beautiful on his dying night? It's not fair! How can he be able to see again on the next if he dies tonight? ... With each drop of blood leaving his body, Stiles feels death crawling closer...closer...and closer...to catch his soul.