Let Me Heal You

Chapter Five

A few days later

Derek's POV

How does one know the feeling of overwhelming pain? Of pain so gruesome, so incurable. Only forgotten about for mere seconds, by using some form of harm upon yourself.

He must be a mind reader.

"Wait." I said aloud.

He said I didn't know his story... I thought

He has his reasons for his scars, for his thoughts, for his depression.

Just like me.

Cora...

Dad...

Mom...

Laura...

"Peter..."

You're so stupid.. This is all your fault.

Pathetic, that's all you are.

Nothing, that's all you are.

Worthless, that's all you are.

Hideous, that's all you are.

Disgusting, that's all you are.

Before any thought came to mind, I screamed, slamming my fist into the table in front of me.

It shattered, pieces flying everywhere around the room.

I grabbed locks of my hair, and continued to scream.

"THEY DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!" I yelled.

It's your fault.

"PETER IS A MONSTER BECAUSE OF YOU!"

It's your fault.

"YOU DID THIS!"

It's your fault.

I fell to my knees, my hands still gripping my hair, which was almost torn out of my scalp.

"Weak." I whispered.

My grip loosened.

"You, are, WEAK!" I shrieked.

I sprinted outside, completely unaware or even caring if I had shifted.

Everything was a blur. Anything and everything that passed me was streaks of color, that I only saw for a split second. My head was spinning, my legs started giving out.

"No!" I growled.

I fell. Rolling, and rolling, and rolling until a stump blocked me from going any further.

"I'm weak.." I whispered.

A tear fell down my cheek, making the anger for myself grow. I couldn't move though, so punching myself, or trying to bite my hand or something, was impossible.

I lay there, weeping. Until my eyes gave way, and I fell asleep.

Stiles' POV

Have you ever gotten that feeling, where you think something is wrong? But instead of investigating, you just brush it off? I'm not like that. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a mind reader. No, I couldn't be.

"Where are you going?" Scott asked.

"Um, bathroom." I said.

"Oh."

He, and my other repulsive classmates entered the classroom. Where I was also suppose to be going, but that strange feeling drew me away from it. The bathroom was code, for "I'm sneaking off campus."

~

Sneaking out of school was easy, being caught was something to laugh about. It just wouldn't happen. Although, it still gave me a rush. Rebelling against anything gave me an adrenalin rush, that I loved.

My first instinct told me to call Derek.

No answer.

He usually answers immediately...? I thought.

I called again, no answer.

I think this is the answer to my uneasy feeling.

I drove my jeep along the bumpy path, leading to Derek's house. Suddenly, something caught my eye. I stopped the car, hearing the car engine whine. I poked my head out to get a better look, and gasped at what I saw.

"Derek!" I cried.

I ran over to his limp body, examining everything around him. His hand was covered in dry blood, his shirt was ripped in a few places. I looked through one of the holes to find a large bruise, I'm assuming it was from the impact with the stump he was leaned against. His eyes were grey, wet with tears.

"Derek? Derek, baby wake up!" I yelled, lightly shaking him.

15 minutes of yelling later, he finally opened his swollen eyes.

"St-Stiles..?" He choked.

"I'm here, Derek." I said, stroking his head.

I helped him to his feet, and pushed him along to my jeep. He was so weak, something must have drained all his energy. I had to help him into the seat, and even buckle him. I drove us to the Hale house, helping him out of the jeep and into the house.

"I'll get you some water." I said, seating him on the couch.

I returned moments later, handing him a glass of water. He took it, and quickly drank all of it.

"I'm weak." He muttered.