bruised//«stiles stilinski»

Part 25

I sit at the table, still with Derek, holding the apple. Derek watches me for a bit before an exasperated sigh escapes his lips. I narrow my eyes at him.

"What?" I ask, raising my eyebrows innocently at him. He squints, hinting at an eye twitch.

"Eat it." He orders.

"I'm not freaking hungry." I mutter, looking away.

"Stiles, I swear to God, I will-"

"You'll what? You'll get a nurse? You'll watch as they freaking force feed me with a damn tube?!" I ask- hopefully threateningly.

Derek sighs again, looking away. "Please, Stiles. Just... Just eat it." Derek pleads, a desperate look on his face.

Before I can reply, a nurse approaches and taps me lightly on the shoulder.

"Mr Stilinski?" She asks.

"Uh-huh." I nod, twisting my body to face her.

"Uh, you have a visitor. Please come with me." She tells me. I furrow my eyebrows, looking to Derek for help. He looks just as confused and shrugs, concern in his eyes.

I follow the nurse out of the cafeteria and let her guide me down the winding stairs then along the halls. We reach a room labelled visitors and she knocks gently before letting herself in. The door opens and a women is revealed stood in the room. She turns to me, a sickly smile on her lipsticked lips. Her hair is tightly pulled into an overly neat bun and she wears a crisp white blouse, a skirt and a blazer. Everything about her is pristine and perfect, not a stray hair or a crumple in clothing in sight. I look down at the state of me, suddenly quite humiliated.

"Hello, Stiles. My name is Mrs Berry." She speaks. Even her voice, along with her appearance, is quite intimidating; it's tight and sounds forced, almost. She croaks slightly, showing signs of her age as she speaks. "I'm an employee here at Eichen and I manage all the visitors. Today, we received a visitor, John Stilinski, claiming to be your dad. In order to let you see him, we need clarification from you that he is in fact your father." she explains, a little too quickly for me to get my head around.

"Uh, yeah..." I stumble, "yeah, he's my dad." I shrug, slightly dazed.

What's he doing here?

"Okay, wonderful. Well, he's in that room right there. So, go ahead when you're ready." She says, gesturing towards a door on the other side of the room labelled visiting room one.

"Okay... Thanks." I murmur, flashing her a quick nervous glance to her before slowly walking towards the door, holding out a shaky hand to the doorknob. I gulp. Carefully I twist the brass doorknob, my breath jagged with anxiety; I shut my eyes and swallow, though it gets stuck in my throat, dominated by a huge lump of nerves.

I open the door, pushing with less force than I usually would. I don't want to do this. When I open it and step in, my dad is stood a meter or so away- looking nervous as hell, might I add- his arms folded awkwardly, shuffling his feet and shifting his weight around uncomfortably.

The sight of me, I assume, takes him aback slightly, as if he never noticed how bad I'd gotten.

"Hi." I breathe, shutting the door behind. His expression is unreadable, though a sad frown dominates his face.

"I..." He trails off, his voice cracking. His eyes just look sad. "I don't-"

I shrug, looking at the ground. "Doesn't matter." I mumble., not lifting my gaze from the floor.

"Stiles, l-look at you!" He whispers painfully as thought he is in pain.

"I know. I've seen it." I mutter, lifting my glare slightly, quickly flashing him a glance before hanging my head down low.