𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

It's poetic

"Call Derek!" I shout looking down at my stomach. Feeling the warm liquid drench the shirt in my grip. I look up to see Stiles and Scott staring at me bewildered. "Call him!" I repeat with the same urgency. 

"We don't need him. We can handle this on our own." Scott replies carefully.

"Really, Scott? Can you really?" I step forward and Scott steps back as soon as I do. "You bloody bit me!" I yell angrily lifting my shirt to reveal the remnants of the bite-marks.  

"Not on purpose!" He shouts back, lifting his hands up in defense as Stiles just looks out of the window, amusement in his eyes as he conceals a smile. 

"That seems to be a recurring issue doesn't it?" 

"Yeah, well we didn't call him last time either." Scott replies with a shrug as he looks to Stiles who simply shakes his head.

"Yeah and that went marvelously well." Stiles chimes in sarcastically catching my eye as he walks towards me. He bends down to look at the wound and looks away immediately. "Maybe she's right." He mumbles while covering his mouth to force down a gag. 

"I can't call him in for a favour in the middle of the night, what if we wait until tomorrow and I can take you to see Deaton?" He questions, although the stern look in my eyes leaves no need for reply. "Y/n..." He groans pulling a hand through his hair. 

"What?  Am I being difficult Scott? Am I being a bit dramatic over the fact that you accidentally made a decision that could change my entire life?" I demand bitterly and I see Scott hover as he searches for an answer. I sigh grabbing my jacket and pulling it over my shoulders to hide the blood before turning to face the boys. "Screw it, I'll go to him myself." I push pass them and ignore their objecting opinions as I rush out of the house and into my car. 

The ride to the loft seemed to take forever as my mind spun in a continues circle, trying desperately to come to terms with what just happened. Not that it would come easy at all. I only found out about all of this a few months ago and now I'm being thrown into this world head first with no clue how to land on my feet. There was no part of me that ever for one second liked the idea of being a werewolf, partly because the second you get the bite you step onto a permanent battlefield. And realistically speaking I wasn't ready for any of it. I'm not some hero here to protect everyone and the sharp pain settling in my stomach won't change that. 

I pull the jacket tighter around my body forcing the sides together with one hand while the other furiously bangs against the metal door. "Derek!" I shout stopping the knocking briefly before continuing when there's no reply. "Derek!" I repeat with less volume and more desperation as I see blood staining my jacket as well. I pull away from the door and throw the jacket to the ground to push pressure onto the wound. My hands digging against the ripped flesh without any results, but I force down even harder, needing to catch my breath as the pain deepens. 

"Y/n?" A voice asks and I look up to see the door wide open with a confused Derek looking at me. 

"It won't stop bleeding." I comment quickly, looking down at my hands. "It won't stop-" I feel my hands start shaking and it only makes me try harder to keep them still. "It won't stop bleeding." I repeat and I hear his feet shuffle towards me before his own hands come into view, covering mine to take them off of my stomach. 

"Breathe." He whispers as my hands drop to my sides. I do as I'm told, focusing on inhaling slowly to let the sudden urge of panic fade. "What happened?" He asks when I finally look up at him. 

"Scott." I reply dryly, shakily lifting the shirt to reveal the settling marks of teeth. He nods quickly before turning to walk into the loft and I follow him eagerly. My hands slip over the red button to rearm the alarm before I sit down on his bed.