The small office reeked of medical supplies and dust. The 70's style wallpaper was peeling from the corners of the walls, revealing just how old this facility really was. Derek sucked in his bottom lip; the pink skin had been chewed raw in such a short amount of time. The anxiety medication they had forced down his throat had zero effect. He was nearly convinced that the medication itself was causing more problems than it was helping. Derek's lashes fluttered as he rolled his eyes behind closed lids.
"Hale." A soft voice drifted through the slightly cracked door. Derek adjusted his elbows resting on top of his knees. His head grazed against the side of his forearm, his eyes graced the books on the opposite end of the office to avoid watching the too-sweet doctor walk through the door with her fake grin. Paper shuffled before a body entered. The sound of her one-size-too-big cheap heels skidded across the thin, frazzled carpet. Derek left out a puff of air through his nostrils and shut his eyes. Whether it was a part of her job or not, the sickening smile made him dread these mandatory weekly visits.
"Derek, look at me." She was standing too close; he could hear the breath leaving her lungs. He sunk his head lower. The overgrown stubble across his cheeks burned the skin on his arm. Dr. Fields finally retreated to her desk across from him. She fumbled with the manila file in her hands until she had it neatly splayed out in front of her. Derek traced the threads of carpet that were unraveling underneath the uncomfortable chair he sat in. The doctor clear her throat, maybe in some attempt to grab his attention or maybe she needed a lozenge.
He slouched further into the plastic coated chair. The material creaked and protested against his weight. The itchy blue hospital issued scrubs that clothed his legs dug into the backside of his knee. Derek readjusted his elbows and threaded his fingers together before hiding his entire face behind his forearms. An annoyed sigh could be heard from the other side of the large brown desk. Derek released his own exhausted sigh but finally revealed his face fully. His eyes dropped to the folder on her desk. He spotted that smile out of the corner of his eye and cringed.
"Derek…" She paused to clear her throat. "Mr. Hale. How have you been feeling on your newest medication?" Dr. Fields pulled a few sheets of paper from the file and shuffled them with her gaze glued to him.
Derek rolled his shoulders back, adjusting his posture. The corners of his mouth curled down into a frown. It wasn't as if he had a choice, whether he liked them or not. If he denied, they injected an eerily green serum into his ass cheek. He shifted his weight in the chair, the memory triggering the induced pain of the syringe. He shook his head gently, a strand of hair fell down his forehead.
His tongue darted out between his lips, dampening the raw, chewed spots freckling his mouth. "Fine. It's fine." He lied.
It wasn't fine. None of this was fine; none of it made any sense. Derek felt the prickling heat of anger tickling his mind and creating a knot in his stomach. His body went ridged. Dr. Fields suddenly appeared frightened and her arm darted downward quickly. The sound of a button being mashed barely caught his attention. His wide eyes met her apologetic ones before two guards rushed in. Their hands clasped tightly around his biceps, holding him tightly in place.
Dr. Fields stood then and weaved around the large desk to stand directly in front of him. "Let me remind you, Mr. Hale, you have been in this facility for six months. The home you shared with your family burned down in a fire when you were younger. You and your sister – "
Derek lurched forward, only to be jerked backward. A helpless, pain filled yelp caught in his throat. "I know what happened to my family!" He halfway shouted. The doctor's back bowed backward, in some attempt to put space between them. Derek failed to take in the amount of time he had spent in this hospital.
"Let me finish." She interjected politely. As if she hadn't just called in her guard dogs.
"Your sister, Laura…" Fields paused to pull a sheet a paper off of her desk and wielded it in front of her. A photo of Derek's sister, Laura, had been printed across the white sheet. Derek's breath caught in his throat. His mouth grew dry at the site of his smiling, happy sister. A knot of guilt grew larger in his stomach. Derek clenched his eyes shut tight and breathed heavily through his nostrils.
"Derek, focus. Hey." A warm hand landed on his thigh, causing him to jolt upright. Fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders, holding him steady. Dr. Fields had crouched in front of him. He could spot the heel of her shoe hanging completely off her foot and the slip underneath her skirt had become ruffled around her knees. The moment felt incredibly awkward. Derek could hear his heart pounding in his chest fiercely; it rang loud against his eardrums and distracted his thoughts.
"Your sister died, almost seven months ago." She spoke quietly. Her thumb traced circles against his legs. He wondered briefly if that actually worked for other people – patients. Derek stared her down with narrowed eyes. The muscles in his thigh flinched against her touch, startling her enough to take her hand off.
"Your sister was the victim of murder. An intoxicated man, not of sound mind…" She trailed off and brushed strands of hair from her forehead. She stood up straight, Derek's eyes never left her face. The pit of his stomach burned and ached as memories flashed and flickered through his mind.
"Now…" She started as she returned to her desk. The guards remained in place; it was beginning to irritate Derek. His lip twitched upward and his eyebrows furrowed together. He watched Dr. Fields with a burning stare. Fiery anger coated his entire mind, soaking into his soul and burned at his thoughts.
"How do you feel on your new medication?" She prompted, but her gaze wasn't on him anymore. She seemed invested in the sheet of paper plastered to the inside cover of the folder. It must be his medication chart. Her mouth contorted into a frown before she looked up at him. "You refused your medication almost every day this week." Derek shifted his weight again and winced, whether it was the residual prick of the syringe or the fingernails digging into his collar bone, he couldn't tell the difference.
"Your episodes are happening more frequently. You've been put in solitary four times in the last two weeks and now, you are refusing your medication."
"If you prefer the syringe then that is completely fine." It almost sounded as if she attempted sarcasm.
"Or you could not forcefully medicate me." He spat back. Derek tilted his head to the side with his eyes narrowed, acknowledging her ridiculous statement.
"If you don't tell me what is wrong with the medication, I can only assume that you are being stubborn." Her eyebrow arched up her forehead, creating a collection of wrinkled skin.
The file flopped closed. The irritation was becoming clear in the doctor's features. "You have group this week. Try to participate." She forced out with the cheesiest grin smeared across her face, although the frustration was written behind her brown eyes. "Stiles will be joining you." She added.
Derek's head shot up. "Stiles?" His eyebrows arched down in confusion.
Dr. Fields nodded and folded her arms across her desk in front of her. "Wasn't he one of your friends, before you came here?" Suddenly she looked confused. Her fingers reached up to scratch at her forehead. "No, that was Scott. Or…Lydia." She sighed, obviously confused.
Her hand raised up, signaling the guards. Derek relaxed assuming the worst was over, only to be pulled upward. The chair that held his weight flopped to its side. He stumbled to plant his feet to the ground as he was dragged from the office.
"Remember to participate in group!" Dr. Fields hollered from office.