Broken and Returned

chapter 9

*Stiles pov*

I woke up in my room, groaning slightly when I stretched. Everything in my body was on fire, and it killed me to move. Swiveling my head slightly, I take notice of Derek sleeping in my desk chair.

I cocked my head slightly, my brain working furiously to understand.

what is he doing here?

Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I throw my hands around my dresser to attempt to pull myself up. My dresser was empty apparently, so when I grabbed onto the top of the dresser and pulled, wincing at my broken body, it started falling over. My eyes widened as the dresser lands to the side of me and I let out a small scream.

Derek jumps up immediately and looks around frantically. 

After finally registering what had happened, he pulled the dresser up and gently pushed me back into my bed.

His voice is hoarse from sleep, "God Stiles, why didn't you wake me?"

I shrugged my shoulders and stared at the ceiling.

"Do you need anything? Water? Meds?"

I nod my head, and Derek quickly exits the room, returning minutes later with water and hopefully some prescription strength pain medication.

His tone was unwavering, "Do you want me to stay? Do you want Scott or your dad?"

I sat up quickly in reflex of my dad and winced heavily, laying back again.

Derek sighed, "Are you just not ever going to talk? Because I really need to hear your voice."

I shrugged my shoulders, "Those pain meds would be nice."

Derek's eyes widened slightly as he nodded and handed me both items.

After downing the meds, I trickle into sleep, waking every few hours. I tried to get up multiple times, which ended with Derek growling angrily at me. After I finally wake up and stay conscious, my nose wrinkles as the smell of me finally hits me.

I spare Derek a glance as I prop myself up on my arms, "I need to shower. You can leave."

Derek looked incredulous, "You think i'm just going to leave? You can't even walk Sti-"

I close my eyes and huff, "I don't need help."

Derek set his jaw and left the room, and I open my eyes to peek and check.

He really left.

I gathered my strength and sat up, panting at how much energy was going into this. "Jesus Christ, this hurts."

I heard the shower running and my eyebrows furrow.

Derek?

Focusing hard, I force my body to turn quickly and sit on the edge of my bed. I was sweating at the energy exertion, and everything was blurry.

Derek walks in and scoffs, "I'm not leaving, why didn't you wait?"

He picks me up and carries me into the bathroom, placing me on my feet to stand me up.

Tears were in my eyes and my voice broke, "Please Der- just, just leave."

Derek's gaze softens and he brought me into a hug softly, "Stiles, I'm not leaving until your better. Are you alright with me helping you in here?"

I sighed.

I have to be ok with it, I can barely move.

Instead I just nod my head yes and do my best to block the tears out. My emotions were a swirling mess in my head. Derek lifts my shirt over my head carefully and sucks in a breath when he takes in the damage. yea

I clench my eyes shut and try to turn away. "I know, i'm ugly- the scars, they're ugly."

Derek turns me around and sighs, "They're not ugly, but don't doubt that i'm not going to murder whoever did this."

My head shot up and I plead with Derek frantically, "No Derek, promise me you won't."

My hands were on his face, forcing him to look into my eyes. His eyes were glowing that magnificent red that has me admiring them.

"Please," I was whispering.

I was afraid he was going to roar by the animalistic look on his face. He closes his eyes for a minute before nodding, helping me into the shower.

Derek refused to help me anymore before I let him see the scars on the back and stomach. After struggling to get to my door, I begrudgingly gave in.

Derek has bandages and a bottle of peroxide. I was lying on my back, and I watched him as he carefully sat down on the bed next to me. His gaze looking me over, making me shiver. He poured peroxide on a few wounds and I hiss in pain.

Derek would grab my hand after each time as I would writhe in place. When he looked at my back and growled loudly, making me regret my decision, I tried to turn back over.

Derek caught me before I could, "Oh no you don't."

He traced an arching curve from my shoulder to the mid section of my back. Then prodded the multiple bullet holes in my lower back where the bullets exited. He poured peroxide on the scars from caning and whipping, and then bandaged them quickly. I turned back over and chuckled to try and lighten his mood, but he seemed distracted, his tongue pushing into his cheek.

God he's hot.

I was taken aback with my thoughts.

What the fuck?

I realized right then that I was falling in love with Derek, and probably had been since before this all happened. It crushed me more than words could explain.