Stiles walks into his dimly lit room and falls face first on the bed. Tears burn his chocolate brown eyes. His dad had been called to the station shortly before he arrived home. A note was left taped to the fridge. "Sorry Stiles, I'll be out late again. D." The fact that his dad was out didn't surprise him, but with all the things that have been happening to home lately it just felt like a betrayal.
Stiles sat up on his rumpled bed sheets and wiped the salty tears that stained his freckled face. Stiles sighed and pushed himself of the bed. Homework had to be done. Of course his teachers all decided to give the biggest assignments of the year at the same time. "Figures," Stiles thought. Plopping down in his rolling computer chair, he swiveled over the flashing computer screen. The screen showed that he had an email. It had been awhile since any of his friends had even acknowledged his existence since the incident. A burst of hope shot through Stiles' chest at the thought of his friends reaching out to him again. He clicked on the mail but it was only a remainder from one of his teachers to do his essay.
Stiles slammed his hands down on the desk, angry for having even a tiny bit of hope. He knew they weren't ever going to forgive him. How could they. Hell, he couldn't even forgive himself. Stiles couldn't help but sink back onto the bed and remember everything that happened.
***Flashback
Stiles couldn't control himself. His body was moving, his body was talking, but it wasn't him. His friends had been talking about a demonic demon possessing people, but everyone all assumed it was Kira. The demon was preventing Stiles from saying anything, doing anything about it. He was being forced to hurt people. One night Stiles woke up and found himself laying next to a pale strawberry blond girl, Lydia. She was wearing a salmon dress that was strewn around her body loosely, blood stains spattering the expensive material. Stiles looked down at his hands which happened to be covered in blood. A lot of blood. Stiles screamed and screamed but know one could hear him from wear he was. He checked Lydia's pulse. She was alive, but just barely and if he didn't get her out of here soon she would die. A feeling started to develop in Stiles stomach. At first it was an ache and the next moment it was a freight train slamming into his ribs. He did this. He did it. He remembered the look of horror on his friends faces when they found out what he had done. None of them could bare to look at him even though it had been a demon who had actually committed the crime. Lydia lived, but was in critical condition for quite awhile. No one talked to him now. Lydia switched all the classes she had with him as did most of his friends. They couldn't stand to think that I had almost killed the girl I was in love with. None of them knew if it may be them next.
***End Flashback
Sobs racked the boy engulfed in blankets. Stiles could feel a panic attack developing in the pit of his stomach. He thought about his mother and how she would be so disappointed in what her boy had become. A weak, murderous, insane, depressed, helpless boy. Stiles sat up gasping in breaths, trying to fill his chest with any air he could. He coughed and sputtered and tried to stand. He slid down against his wall and gasped and hacked, trying so hard to catch a breath. He brain pounded, he couldn't think. This was one of the worst panic attacks he's had in awhile. After his mom died he gotten them a lot, but they had gotten better. His chest still squeezed threatening suffocation. He knelt on his knees and fell to the ground clenched in a fetal ball. Tears pouring from his eyes. He thought he disserved this so he lay there and waited for it to pass.
Stiles woke up to the sound of his dad's car pulling up into the driveway. He had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Dried tears left salt stains down his cheeks. He knew his dad was having a rough time at work and he didn't need any more grief from his son. He ran to the bathroom and without looking at how ugly his face must have been he washed it with a towel. Removing all evidence of what had happened.
"Hey dad. How was work?" Stiles said when he clumsily stumbled down the stairs.
"Oh, it was okay I guess. I think I'm going to have a bit to drink."
Stile's dad had taken up drinking when his mom had died. it had gotten so bad they almost took away his sheriff's badge. He had quit and hadn't had a drink in ages. This worried Stiles. Something was clearly wrong.
"Are you okay dad? I don't really think its a good idea to drink anything. What wrong."
"Oh Stiles. It's one drink it'll be okay."
"Okay, well I'm going to go out..." Stiles picked up his keys that were thrown precariously on the table. They jangled as he tried to fit them into the ignition. The 1980s baby blue jeep roared to life. He didn't know where he was going, but he started to drive anyway. After a half an hour of driving around at nothing, he decided to go back home and check on his dad.
"Hey dad. I'm ho-" Stiles looked around and found his dad with a half empty bottle of jack on the floor next to him.
"Hi son." His dad spit out in a harsh tone. Stiles knew what was coming and he didn't think he could handle it, but he stood still anyway.
"You know what happened to day at work? I got fired! And you want to know why?! Because my son almost murdered a girl! Because my son hurt a poor innocent girl! How many people can you murder? You murdered your mother you know! Its your fault! The stress of you killed her! Now I don't have a job or a wife and its all because of you!" The half empty bottle was thrown inches from Stiles' head and shattered into a million glass pieces. "Get out of my house!" Stiles ran out of the house.
When Stiles arrived at the edge of the woods he got out of the car and threw up. The panic attack that had possessed his body also made him lose control of his stomach. He threw up and coughed and clutched his chest. Tears pouring from his eyes like water holes. For an hour Stiles struggled to breathe. It was the longest most painful panic attack he had ever had in his entire life. "Mom. Mom. Mom, I'm so sorry," Stiles kept sobbing and muttering for his mother. Stiles doesn't know how, but he got up. His tired body stumbled sideways into a tree. Braches scratched his face, but he hardly noticed.
When Scott and Stiles used to be friends they would come out to the lake and drink and laugh. They kept whisky bottles in a container they buried, so they would always have access to it. Stiles eventually made his way to the lake and located the mound of dirt, the container was buried under. Stiles didn't know if the alcohol was drinkable, but he didn't care. He struggled with the cap to the bottle for a moment and then it finally popped off. Without even measuring the consequences Stiles chugged half the bottle. The burning hurt so bad going down, but he honestly didn't care. Almost instantly the drink started to take effect. Stiles took one swig after another. When he could hardly stand he stripped off his shirt and shoes and stumbled to the lake. He knew how dangerous it was to be drunk and swim at the same time. His vision was so blurry that he almost fell over the water bank. Cold winter water clutched Stiles' feet, but the cold almost didn't effect him. He settled the rest of his body into the water.
"Look at me now mom! Look at what your precious son had become! Where were you? I needed you!" Stiles screamed at the sky and sobs began to rack his body again. He went to drink more of the bottle, but it slipped out of his hand and shattered glass everywhere. His vision was swirling, but the glass glinted and looked to pretty to Stiles. He picked one piece up, accidently cutting his hand on it. The warm dripping blood felt so good to him that he hardly felt what he was doing. He dug the shard deep into his arm. The gas opened up with red droplets spilling over his arm and into the bank. The sharp pain felt so go. He made gashed up and down his arms. The n he moved to his legs. Cutting too deep, but the alcohol stopped him from caring. The water washed away some of the blood. The blood loss and the alcohol made him too dizzy to stand. He got out of the water just in time to pass out on the bank. He saw the red of his blood pooling around him.
***
"Stiles! Stiles! No, please! Stiles!" Someone shook Stiles violently. Stiles didn't want to wake up. He thought he was done. That the pain was over, but just the opposite occurred. Moving even slightly caused pain to rip through his body violently. Stiles opened his eyes so slightly. It was still night time, but he could just make out the gruff figure of Derek Hale. Stiles groaned the next time Derek shook him. "Stiles?!" Derek gently picked him up and started walking in the direction of the woods.
"Wha..." Stiles muttered. Pain engulfed him so badly that he could feel himself fainting again.
Stiles woke up on a bed. A bed that was not familiar. Derek Hale stood above him with a horrified expression on his face. Stiles tried to sit up and quickly realized what a terrible idea that is.
"You have been seriously injured Stiles. You cannot get up." The concern in Derek's voice was so foreign, Stiles thought that this was just a dream. He slowly drifted into a real one again. He woke up a coupled hours later. Derek was still standing in the same spot. Stiles deducted that it wasn't a dream.
"Derek?" Stiles could finally form real words. A heavy pounding in his head wanted him to stop, but that wasn't who Stiles was. "Derek where am I. Why am I in so much pain?"
"Stiles, you are in my bedroom, You are in pain because..." He trailed off and averted his eyes from Stiles.
"Why? tell me. It hurts so bad Derek." Stiles whimpered.
"I can't really tell you. You need to see for yourself." Derek came over and helped Stiles sit up. A sharp gasp exited Stiles mouth as he saw what he did to himself. His body was mutilated. Almost no part of him wasn't gashed. A panic attack started rising in Stiles chest. He couldn't handle one right now. "Derek. Help."
Derek came over and sat next to Stiles. He grasped his hand and suddenly Stiles felt the panic attack fading accompanied by some of the pain. We need to talk about this Stiles...