focusscottfocus (focusscottfocus) wrote in nemetonlog, @ 2014-07-06 09:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | melissa mccall, scott mccall |
Scott & Mom; Catching mom up on the really bad parts of the last few months
Saturday evening, July 5, 2014; Casa McCall, living room
R (if only for dark themes/death talk); In progress
He had to tell her.
Scott had tried. He really had. But telling his mother that he killed someone just didn't seem right over the internet. It was an in person, face-to-face conversation that he needed to have with her. Partially because she really needed to know. She was his mom, afterall. But also because of what Deaton had mentioned. If his ginger and chamomile thing didn't work, he had another idea and...well, there was no way Deaton would give him peyote without his mom's consent. It was a last resort, but it was a possibility anyway.
Waiting for the time to pass and his mom to get home was, basically, maddening. He didn't want to have to do this. Again. He'd done it once, but she didn't remember that so she had no idea what her son had done. Or his wolf had done. Whatever. It was all the same to Scott. He remembered it too vividly to separate himself from he wolf's actions. It made his stomach lurch, thinking about it.
Finally, though, she came home and he ushered her over to the couch and for a second, debated sitting next to her, but decided against it, standing instead. Pacing, really, that was the word for it. "Okay, so...what I was saying before... Ever since the rutual, I've been turning into an actual wolf now."
He bit his lip. He as stalling, he didn't want to break her like this, but he had to tell her. "I didn't know that's what was happening at first and the first time it happened... I.." his voice faltered and he stopped the nervous pacing, looking at her, tears welling up in his eyes, "Mom, I killed somebody..." the words were so hushed, he wasn't sure if she had even heard him, but he went on a tangent again, pacing more. "I mean, I wasn't me, I was a wolf, but I rememeber it like it was me and since then we had this plan, it was actually Lydia's idea, there's this cellar out in the woods and she and Stiles make a bullseye of mountain ash and lock me inside and I've been working with Deaton to try to find better ways to control it but... Mom, I...I'm sorry." At this point, he broke, his knees buckled just in front of the couch, burying his face in his hands, whispering, "I'm sorry." If he were being honest, Scott still hadn't dealt with it t all. Pushed it down, ignored it, tried to bury it deep but it hadn't worked. He still had nightmares about it. Woke up from those nightmares and couldn't sleep for hours after. He just wanted it to all go away.