Broken and Returned

chapter 12

*Stiles pov*

The torture that emanates from reliving both my torture and my abandon causes sobs to break from me the second I awoke. It was too much to soon for me to be able handle the torment I had experienced. My mind was racing, I had jumped into it without any concern about my reaction, the idea of being useful to the pack overpowered my logicality. It could've been empowering to face it once again, but there has never been a person who is grateful for being thrusted back into their trauma, no matter how much notice they get before.

What killed me the most was coming back to reality to find that Derek was gone.

Abandoned once again.

There was no energy left in me to fight, to go out and demand a reason for deserting me.

Instead, I got back onto the couch and tried to stifle my cries.

He doesn't want someone this damaged.

I sat there in silence for moments, dreading the idea of facing anyone at this point. My mind coming to the tantalizing fantasies about what I should do, about what I should've done from the start. I need a break from Beacon Hills, my father would do whatever to help me be happy and safe, even if it means getting away from the one place I've ever called home.

The little voice in the back of my head tells me I should want to be with friends and family after a traumatizing experience happens, but I can't find it within myself to desire it. I don't want them to know how broken I am, how numb I feel, how I am just a shell of emptiness that used to be the real Stiles.

I want to be able to build myself back up before the brokenness reveals itself.

Trying to stand, I feel blood rush from my head and sway dangerously on my feet. I try to put my thoughts together, my first priority should be the wound on my neck, so I start stumbling to the bathroom to stop the bleeding. I am struggling up the stairs when I hear it first. The front door, it creaks loudly as it's opened.

I sigh when I hear footsteps, "Derek, please leave. I don't want to talk about it now."

Chuckling erupts from my left and I whip around, taking in the picture now facing me.

The alpha pack surrounds me.

I set my jaw and keep quiet, they would speak if they needed too. I was right, their need to showcase their dominance has them all waiting frantically for a movement.

Deucalion steps forward, "You're stronger than I gave you credit for. We could use you later on, as leverage."

My tongue pushes into my cheek, a natural reaction from before my time in hell, an act of pettiness.

They gaze at me in wonder, who dares to act so willingly in front of an all powerful pack? I could answer for them; someone who survived the worst and is now using it to become stronger.

I shake my head and step back in need of space, they were sucking the oxygen out of the room. I can take a beating, but I can't handle a panic attack.

Ironic, isn't it?

They close in on me slowly, predators studying their prey. Every single one of the alpha's eyes were blazing bloody red, a promise of attack, with their fangs out and their progression of cornering me in the hallway.

The twins came first, reaching for me as though it would be that easy. I smack their hands down and elbow Ethan in the chest before spinning towards Aiden. Aiden steps aside to avoid my fist and grabs my arm roughly, spinning me into his chest and putting me in a chokehold. Aiden's arm constricts my air flow and my breaths become shorter and more sporadic as I try to kick him anywhere I can.