Chapter Four: Old Wounds (Part One)

The Stillinski House, That Same Day

Lydia sat watching me as I moved slowly about the kitchen; in order to let my new bandages stay where they were, I couldn't make any sudden movements or move too quickly. Her face a mask of worry and curiosity. As I took my time in gathering ingredients for a Stillinski Special Provolone Tuna Melt, she tracked my every move: just like someone else I know. I let her be, however, because Lydia was playing nice for now; she wasn't hounding me—which I was grateful for—but she was just there, mainly for comfort. I was just sick and tired of people watching me all damn day.

"Did you want one, too?" I asked her as I checked everything on the island. I thought it would be rude if I just made one for myself.

"One? All of this goes into one sandwich?" Lydia's brows rose into her hairline.

"Two, give or take four or five."

"Five?!"

"Lydia, you seem to have forgotten the fact that I love to eat."

"But how do you stay so small?"

"Is that a trick question? Honey, I'm a werewolf," I scoffed. "We live to eat."

"Oh, you're right about that. Scott seemed pretty hungry back there at school." Lydia said pointedly.

I paused then, and she waited as if I was going to give an answer to that statement. I blinked and turned away, hoping she would let it drop as she had in the hallway. I grabbed some instant coffee as she remained silent; it turned into a Battle of Wills to see who would outlast the other in staying silent.

Too bad we Stillinskis loved to talk.

"Fine. I'll tell you." I murmured with a heavy sigh. "But only because I need someone else's opinion other than Stiles'!" Stiles was a great listener, but when it came to giving advice… he was better at concocting impromptu plans that somehow worked most of the time. Plus, my other genetic half had a way of saying the wrong things at the wrong time. Like he had at the burnt-out Hale House…

"See? I'll never have to work a day in my life. You all make being this good so easy that I just might start to feel bad."

I shook my head and boiled some water in the microwave for my coffee.

"And I can't believe you told Stiles before you told me!" she scoffed.

"We're twins, Lydia. We tell each other everything."

I left it at that and assembled my Tuna Melts while I waited for the water. Several times Lydia attempted to help, but I waved her off and told her that she needed to mentally prepare herself for what I was about to say. That quieted her down long enough to let me pour the instant powder, milk, creamer, and sugar into my coffee mug and settle down onto the island next to her. After a few more peaceful, silent moments, we got down to business.

"Do you remember that night when P- the, uhm, Alpha, I mean, locked us inside of the school?" I couldn't even say his name, he scared me so much.

"It's a little too hard to forget, seeing as it's ingrained into my brain lobes, sure. I'm guessing you're going to tell me that he was the one who gave you those?" she pointed to my stomach, and I shuddered, nodding.

"I thought I was going to die that night, on the floor in front of the trophy case, but I didn't. I was saved—by someone. I just don't know who yet."

"But you plan to find out?" I nodded.

"Exactly. But that isn't what I wanted to say…."

Lydia remained silent, and I took another deep breathe to start over. "Two nights ago we all came looking for you, but we couldn't find you. After we came home, I fell asleep at the window—and when I woke up, there was someone in my bedroom... Watching me."

I stared into the half-empty mug as the oven beeped and told me my melts were done.

"Keep going," my friend coaxed, her voice even and reassuring.

"It was a boy, and I have no idea how he got into my room and I have no idea who-" I frowned hard, and corrected myself. "I know who he is, but he was there."

Lydia sat back down next to me after she cut the stove off and set the steaming, oozing sandwiches on top of the stove. The smell made my mouth water, and now, all I wanted to do was to devour them all. Anything to keep me from embarrassing myself further when it came to the other night.

"It was storming, and the lightening cut off the power. It didn't matter though, because I could still see him."

"Mr. Tall, Sinister, and Handsome in the parking lot," she guessed.

I nodded. "He was standing in the corner and the only thing he was wearing were black boxers. I didn't know what to do, but…"

"You wanted him. Bad." There was an amusement in her voice that I didn't miss.

"Okay, are you somehow reading my mind? You're freaking me the hell out."

"Sorry, but I don't mean to do it. It come and goes; right now, it's come and it hasn't gone. I was also paying attention to your reaction, earlier."

I blushed and looked away, embarrassed as Lydia added, "You looked like a dog in heat, girlfriend. In deep, deep heat, and nothing would have stopped you from going down there if he hadn't made you turn into mush."

My face was beginning to hurt, and Lydia, sensing my discomfort, squeezed my shoulder. "I'm not teasing, I'm just saying. Now tell me more, Stella."

"Well, I needed him. I want him—I felt like I needed him more than I needed to breathe, and he needed me, too. I didn't even ask his name, but I told him to kiss me, and-" I shook my head, amazed that something that felt so perfect and right turned into something so hideous and wrong.

"The rest is rated M for Mature, right under AC for Adult Content and AV for Adult Violence, Lydia."

"He hurt you, didn't he?" she picked up right away, and the buds of warmth that were reaching out into my body turned into ice.

My breathing hitched, and my hand rested gingerly over my scars. "It was him," I whispered. "The Alpha from that night. His name is Peter."

"Peter Hale?" Lydia gaped, her green eyes wide and round as I nodded and took a shaky breathe.

"I couldn't move—he had my wrists pinned over my head, and I couldn't stop him. He likes to play games, Lydia. The bastard made me guess what his name was before he reopened my scars with his bare claws."

"Oh, my god, Stella…"

I took another shaky breathe and tried to force the air back into my lungs, but it was no use. I was crying again, and I wouldn't stop for a while.

"I couldn't stop screaming, Lydia. I just couldn't because it was the only thing I could do to make sure I wasn't dying. You should have seen the look on Stiles and Dad's faces when they came into the room."

My trembling hand set my mug down on the granite; I didn't even look at the melts. My appetite was ruined. I could tell Lydia was watching me more closely from the corner of my eye, and I shuddered.

"Am I disgusting?" I asked her, and she frowned.

"What?"

"Am I disgusting? For wanting him—Peter –again?" I asked desperately as I looked into her face.

"Of course not, or at least I don't think so, honestly." Lydia wrapped her arms around me and hugged as tight as she could without jarring my bandages. She was second person who let me cry into their shirt today.

"God, I wanted him so bad…"

Some Hours Later

Lydia put me down for a nap after I ruined her favorite shirt; when I woke up, she was asleep, and all I could think about were my Tuna Melts. I got up, still groggy, and padded downstairs to eat. I used a paper towel to wrap up a Melt to-go, and grabbed my mug from the counter to refill yet again with more coffee. I didn't even turn a full circle before a searing pain slammed into my gut, immobilizing me. I sucked in air as if I were drowning and still couldn't get enough of it. It slammed into me again, knocking me onto my knees. There wasn't a sound emitted from my throat as the pain surged throughout my whole body.

The contents of my coffee mug washed the floor as it shattered on the hardwood panels and spread. One my one, my scars began to burn, starting with the one farthest from my heart and reaching inward. I struggled to drag air into my lungs as my vision blurred. I opened my lips to cry for Lydia's help, but the noise died in my throat as a wolf's howl rang loud and clear in the late afternoon air.

"Stella?" Lydia's voice was drowning itself in confusion and concern as she called my name. "Was that a wolf?"

I tried to speak, but the only sound that came was a mew; it felt as if my stomach were caving in on itself. I dry heaved, trying to force anything and everything out—as if there were something in there, anyway. I moaned as my palms pressed into the floor and my knees ground in. I could smell my own blood infiltrating my nose and molesting my olfactory bulb, a thick copper-metallic scent that threatened to choke me faster than if I bled out here on the floor.

Plip! The blood rushed to my head and ran through my nose, dark and red. I looked down as an annoying buzzing sound irritated my eardrums while I watched my blood mix together with my coffee. I reached a trembling hand to my face as it began to burn from the tip of my nose all the way to the back of my head. More blood found its way out side of my nose, warm and wet as my dry throat spasmed—it stopped Lydia dead cold in her tracks.

"St-ohmygod!" she gasped. By the sudden spike I could hear in her heartbeat, she was horrified.

I looked up and made an incoherent sound—anything that would tell her I needed her help. More of an afterthought, I suddenly wondered about what I'd need to inhale later in order to get my iron levels back up. I reached for her with my bloody, shaking hand; my bottom lip began to quiver with the onset of tears. It was hard to fight off the shuddering that had conquered the trembling as the temperature dropped in the room—or rather inside of my body. My throat worked hard as she knelt before me, looking utterly hopeless, useless, and not to mention still confused.

"Help…me…" I moaned, my arm shaking from holding my weight. My mouth opened wide in a silent scream as the pain arching my back forced me to land on the floor face up, tears streaming down my face. Oh, Peter Hale and I would damn sure have some fighting words...

"Towels! I'll go and get some towels!" The strawberry blonde cried as I took a painful breath. "Stella, just hold on― I'll be right back!" Lydia's voice was quivering itself and her rapid heartbeat now went into overdrive as she bounded away from me like a gazelle from a lioness.

"Stella!"

I could only take another breathe before I was finally able to let loose a gut-wrenching wail that should have shattered even my eardrums. My back arched painfully again, and Peter Hale crashed threw the back kitchen door. The agonizing pain subsided in the wake of a gust he had brought inside with him and my heart sank like a stone into my stomach—which only made it shrivel up and dissolve in its own acid.

I didn't want him any where near me, but something told me that he was only person who could help me survive whatever in the hell this was. And yet somehow, I felt as though he was completely and utterly responsible for it.

End of Part One: The Alpha's Right