Chapter one: Unforgivable

(( Hey everyone! So, like mentioned, this is in fact a re-write of a story, called "Not so Little Red Riding Hood" and it is still on my profile. Go check it out if you are interested, and can see where we started from. Big shout out to my Beta, who shall not be named, because I like privacy, and because I simply don't want to say who it is ;) Alright, enjoy! ))

The door was locked. Derek's pounding on the door, combined with his begging, pleading voice was a mixture of sound that I despised, because Derek never begged. It was because he always got what he wanted. And I mean always. It was how he got me in the first place, after he caught me staring for too long without it being awkward back in tenth grade. The thing Derek wanted now was for him and I to just make-up, and move past this whole situation. But I wouldn't give him this. This is something he wouldn't get.

"Stiles, please, I'm so sorry." Banging. "I don't like seeing you this angry. Please, just…" doorknob jiggling. "Come out of the room. Let's talk about this." Derek had stopped both, and I could tell he was leaning against the door, because the door made a pathetic groaning sound as it took his weight.

Derek had forgotten about our Anniversary this year again. Two years in a row, this had happened. The first year, I was too happy to just be with Derek to stay angry for long. He seemed relieved to not have a fight of impending doom on the horizon. But the second year, was when I let my pent up frustration about our relationship slip out. How distant he seemed when we were together, how his job and studies and pack duties would always come first before me. And to be honest, there was just never enough time for me at the end of the day.

I moved in with Derek after I turned eighteen, after a year and a half of being together. He insisted that he didn't want the possibility of my dad interrupting our alone time. I guess I should have cherished it then, because nowadays, it's nowhere to be found. It's always spent with… someone else.

I had put the last of my things in the duffel bag when that had crossed my mind. Derek would always blow me off for this mystery person. It was almost always "Hey, I'm helping someone with work, I'll be home late" or "Sorry, I forgot about this evening, the packs been killing me lately." Or, my god, even the rare "I'm not in the mood tonight. Can we do it some other time?" It was sent impersonally by text, instead of a call. Derek soon trailed off when he started helping this person, and I wasn't jealous, but… Okay yeah, I was extremely jealous, but mostly angry.

"Step back from the door" I say firmly, my voice a little shaky still. He doesn't seem to hear it, so I repeat myself, louder this time, the anger biting into the corners of my tone. "Derek, back away from the door. Now!" I hear a small hitch in breathing, before the shadow by the door fades. When I open the door, he's leaning against the wall, watching me apprehensively. He looks hurt, looking for an answer in my face. I roll my eyes, slinging my bag on my shoulder.

"I'm staying with my dad for a little while." When he goes to speak, I hold up a hand. "Don't, speak. Not until I'm done. You've done enough talking, and now it's my turn to talk." He gulps, nodding. "I need time to let all of this…"be done and over with, you asshole. "blow over. Got it?" He growls, stepping closer to me.

"You aren't leaving me like this, Stiles, I won't let you." He was getting too close for comfort. So I end up doing the first thing that comes to mind, and spit in his face, making him take a step back in surprise.

"I'm eighteen, if you haven't forgotten. I'll do whatever the fuck I want to." Then I went down the stairs, grabbing my keys and leaving Derek.


Dad was more than accepting of letting me stay at home, ever since I started complaining, and as it kept happening instead of stopping, he urged me to move back home, telling me this was "the stage before abuse," or whatever. I never listened to him, but part of me wishes that I did.

"You aren't going to tell me 'I told you so,' right?" I ask, when Dad sets a cup in front of me, taking a seat across from me.

"Of course not, that's an example of horrible parenting, if you ask me." He folds his fingers together, face not moving as I cough and sputter whatever he gave me in the mug. "You'll want to finish that, it helps with talking about heartbreak."

"Whatever the hell this is, I hate it." I grimace, downing the whole thing, getting it over with. "And I'm not heartbroken, just… going through a rough patch." I mutter the last part, not wanting to say it even thought it was most definitely true.

"Yet." He says, looking at me. "You aren't heartbroken, yet. And it's your grandmama's recipe, so don't say anything ill." That actually made perfect sense, all the stuff of hers is good for you, but it tastes like you ran it over with your car and then got a skunk to spray on it afterwards.

"I'm probably stupid for asking you this, because you're a cop, but I'll take the risk anyway. How do you know I'm going to be heartbroken over this?"

"Well, son, I see people like you all the time when I do my job, boyfriend yells at girlfriend, the verbal abuse starts, then the physical violence, then she calls the police, and she spills all about her 'once great, but now deteriorating' relationship. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you, that's all." He pats my hand, trying to comfort me.

I laugh. "Yeah, well, our relationship is on the ropes, but at least he doesn't hit me. I'd have heard about it from you by now anyways." When we first started dating, he threatened to shoot Derek in every vital organ he had if he ever laid a hand on me. It wouldn't do him any good, because he'd just be fine the next day, but it would still be nice to see Derek writhing in pain as bullets penetrated his skin and cries of pain filled the air. Oh wait, it really wouldn't, because I hated that sound too.

"That's true, you were both smart not to act like anything was wrong around me." He exhales, taking a look at me. "So son, what are you going to do about this?"

"What do you mean?" I inquire, giving him a curious look.

"Well you always seem to want to fix things when they were broken, do you remember that toy truck when you were little?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, don't start this with me again, Dad. I was five years old at the time, and I didn't have anything or anyone to play with. That toy truck was the only thing I had to play with." Until I met Scott, I think to myself. But even now, I don't see him. Hell, I don't really see anybody anymore, even in school. They're all either hanging out somewhere else together, or they just don't talk to me, kind of sad, but not really.

"Yeah, sure son, there was more duct tape on that thing than the actual roll." I snort, rolling my eyes as I dissolve into a fit of giggles. He waits until I can breathe to ask again. "What are you going to do?"

I think about it. "Well, like you said, I like fixing things. So, I guess I'll just ask around and see if I can solve this, maybe even try to forgive Derek…" If that's even possible, I ask to myself. "And if we do work it out, I'll lay down some ground rules, tell him what I want in this relationship, so that I know he understands what I need." I don't think he'll pay attention to them, but I think it might give me some closure, moving forward.

"Well, I can acknowledge and support you for wanting to fix things. Just keep in mind, though, that sometimes, things aren't meant to be fixed, and that you may just have to let them stay broken." With that, we ended our conversation. "Have you eaten something tonight?" He asked me. "I could cook you something, if you wanted…"

I shake my head. "Surprisingly, I'm not that hungry." It really was, actually, because I was always eating, talking, or moving, maybe even a combination of all three. But after tonight, I just had no energy left to think about anything. "I think I'll just head up to bed, let all this settle in my mind, and start dealing with it tomorrow."

He nods. "Sounds alright to me. Get some rest, and you can worry about it tomorrow." I nod, pushing whatever the hell that was in the cup away and walk off to bed. I have to admit, though, it felt pretty nice to be back in my old bedroom. Heck, I even missed that one lump that digs into my right hip. I didn't know who I would go to first tomorrow, but I'd have to figure something out.