No argument! But long post ahead. :D
It’s one of those things that we don’t get to see in the show either because all the emotional capital is spent on other people. It’s not that Rafe McCall was just drinking too much, it was that he was an alcoholic. Alcoholic parents and child abuse is linked. It just is. Almost all children who live in a home with an alcoholic parent suffer from abuse and neglect. It doesn’t mean that Rafe necessarily beat Scott every time he was drunk, but there are so many kinds of damaging psychological abuse that kids suffer living in homes with an addict.
The American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry talks about the signs of psychological damage these children face which include: Extreme guilt about things that aren’t their fault, anxiety about violence or trying to keep the peace, embarrassment about asking for help, inability to have close relationships (Scott only had one friend until he was 16), confusion, anger, and depression. That all describes Scott McCall.
They also talk about psychological warning signs of a child having an alcoholic father and some of them really fit Scott too. (At least pre-bite/season 1)
Failure in school; truancy
Lack of friends; withdrawal from classmates
Delinquent behavior
Frequent physical complaints
Risk taking behaviors
Depression or suicidal thoughts or behavior
One of the indicators of this abuse is growing up too fast and I think we can all agree that Scott’s finally reaching his breaking point this year.
Some children of alcoholics may cope by taking the role of responsible “parents” within the family and among friends. They may become controlled, successful “overachievers” throughout school, and at the same time be emotionally isolated from other children and teachers. Their emotional problems may show only when they become adults.
What we get in the narrative is Scott uncharacteristically lashing out at his father and Melissa talking about how they were all better off without the “male influence” in his life. We know that there was a lot of fighting in the house because Scott talks about how his parents were arguing late at night “again.” They never give us something concrete because it’s Scott, not Stiles, but what happened to him ties into his self-sacrificing nature, his need to take care of everyone else so they don’t leave him, the way he is afraid of his own rage/violence, and his self-harm. Even if knocking Scott down the stairs was the only incident of physical abuse, it’s still physical abuse and almost killed him. There’s no way Scott escaped all those years without experiencing other types of significant psychological abuse and neglect.
The only time we get something explicit is in that Teen Wolf semi-official novel “On Fire” where they gave us a flashback to one of Rafe and Melissa’s fights:
A few booths down, Scott McCall put down the cheeseburger from his kiddie meal. “I’m not hungry,” he said miserably. He wanted to get away from the arguing. His parents always fought a lot, but today it was worse. Something had happened. Something bad. “Can I have money for video games?”
“No,” his father snapped, as his mom opened her purse. “We don’t have enough money for crap like that. Am I right, Melissa?”
“I have a couple of quarters,” Scott’s mom said, ignoring his father. And somehow, even though he was only ten years old, he knew it would be better to take them than to explain to her that there was only one game in the entire Beaconburger that took less than a dollar. And that it was a stupid game, and he didn’t like to play it.
He held out his hand for her to drop the quarters in, but his dad clamped his fingers around Scott’s wrist. It hurt, but he pretended that it didn’t as he watched his mom looking through her purse.
Then Scott felt his chest go tight, and a crackle of distress snapped through him. It was starting. He was going to have an asthma attack. Here. Now.
In front of his father.
“I’m getting mixed messages,” his father said to his mom, who looked up from her purse and saw that his dad had hold of Scott’s wrist. “First we don’t have enough money to pay for cable. But we have enough money for Scott’s inhaler. We don’t have enough money for a down payment on a new car but we can stop in here at the Beaconburger instead of eating at home, where mac and cheese is a dollar a box.”
“Let go of my son,” his mom said in a low, deadly voice. Then, very softly, “Scott, do you need your inhaler?”
Scott pursed his lips together. He was trying to push the air down his windpipe into his lungs. Each puff of the inhaler cost money. His dad always said so. He didn’t want his dad to get madder. Scott didn’t want him to yell at his mom because Scott had asthma. It wasn’t her fault. It was his, Scott’s.
“Hold on, Scott,” she said, reaching back into her purse. “I’ve got it right here.”
“He doesn’t need that,” Scott’s father said. “It’s all in his head.”
Scott pushed harder, but it wasn’t working. He began to wheeze.
“Let go of him,” his mom said again. “Scott, here.” She held out the inhaler.
His father kept a painful grip on Scott’s wrist, grinding the bones together. Tears welled in Scott’s eyes as he gazed at his lifesaver - the inhaler.
“You baby him. That’s why he thinks he’s so delicate. C’mon, Scott.” His dad jiggled his wrist. “Stop being such a wimp.”
There was no air in his lungs. None in his body. He couldn’t get any. His mom’s eyes got big, and she turned the full force of her gaze on his dad.
“Let go of my son, now,” she said. “Let go of him or I swear to God, I will deck you.”
No, I’ll breathe, Scott promised her, promised them, if only to make it all stop. But he couldn’t. He was beginning to see yellow and gray dots.
His mom half rose out of her chair. Scott’s father made show of releasing Scott, and Scott grabbed the inhaler from his mom and took a puff. His air passages opened and he sucked in air. He took another puff, even though each puff cost money, and shut his eyes as he trembled with relief.
“Yeah, he’s your son all right,” Scott’s father said. “But maybe he’s not mine.”
Her eyes narrowed. She hated his dad. Anyone could see that. “Scott, are you all right?” she asked him.
No, he wanted to tell her. I’m not. And I won’t be, ever. Not as long as he’s with us.
“We need to go home. He needs to rest,” she said.
His father grabbed his mom’s purse and yanked out her wallet. His hand shook as he handed Scott a five-dollar bill.
“Go play your damned video games,” he hissed at him.
Scott took the money and stumbled away. Passing table after table, he heard some girl talking to some boy about being in love.
I will never fall in love, Scott vowed. Ever.