Chapter Seven: Sleep Apnea
Song Inspiration: I'll Be Okay By Gin$eng (ft. Velvetears)
Malia's POV:
I woke up feeling okay.
I rub my eyes and sigh as I stretch the kinks and cramps out of my body. I lift my arms above my head and immediately regret it when I feel a sharp, tugging sensation on my side like undoing an intricate web of threads. I groan in pain and feel sticky blood coat my fingers where I'd managed to pull the stitches out from where the glass had pierced my skin.
"Dammit..." I mutter, as pain erupts in my side.
In all this time I never really realized where I was at. Lights shine heavily above my head in startlingly clarity and the place smells of soap and rubbing alcohol. I notice a piece of white gauze on the tray standing next to the reclined bed I'm currently sitting in and press it against my wound, hoping it will begin clotting quickly.
I hate hospitals.
With a searing passion. Honestly, truly despise them.
I hate the smells. I hate the sounds. I hate the waiting in suspense. But most of all, I hate the feeling of death that surrounds them, as if I'm standing in a graveyard. Hospitals have probably witnessed more broken-hearted prayers and wet tears than any church has in a life time. Hospitals are a place for the disfigured: the fuck-ups, the crooked, the bent. Maybe I belong here.
The click of the door draws my attention and a friendly looking nurse with a cherub face walks over to the bed with a radiant smile. The smile slips off her face into a frown when she sees the blood dripping down my sides and rushes to clean it.
"Oh my dear, what have you done?" She reprimands gently, tabbing the wound with alcohol that causes me to wince.
"I didn't realize there were stitches there. I was stretching and the stitches came out." I groan, looking at the damage.
"Well it may scar, but it shouldn't be too bad. It won't be able to take away from such a pretty face like yours." She says sweetly, trying to make me feel better.
I grin bashfully at her compliment and try to sit still so she can finish cleaning me up. I wonder where everyone else is.
"Nurse McCall will be with you shortly. She'll do a routine check up and fill you in on the details you missed while you were out." The lady states, redressing the wound, removing her sanitary gloves, and leaving me alone to my thoughts.
Seconds could have gone by. Minutes. Hours. I lost track of time falling into my thoughts. Did Lydia really feel that way about me? She had cut me down so deep, so much so that I could feel it in my bones. A deep aching, sadness, rejection. Lydia had somehow managed to make me feel so small, like I didn't even matter in the grand scheme of things. She made me feel like none of their lives would be utterly changed if I just happened to not exist. How does she do that? Make me feel so... Insignificant... Disposable?
Melissa walks in and I turn to look at her.
Dark, curly black hair, smooth russet skin, and warm brown eyes. I see so much of her in Scott and I silently thank her for making such an amazing person. I don't know what I would do without the two of them.
"Hey, honey, how are you feeling?" She asks, placing her hand on my forehead to check my temperature.
"I've been better, I just haven't slept very well. But I think I'd feel much better getting out of this hospital. You think you can pull some strings for me?" I smile cheekily, hoping she'll help me out.
She chuckles. "I know, I know. You hate hospitals and I will try not to take any personal offense to that." She pauses and winks. "But we need to run some more tests on you and make sure you don't have a concussion. We contacted your dad and he should be here soon." Melissa assures with a soothing tone.
I groan. "My dad is probably freaking out, I should call him. You know how he is. Ever since my mom and sister died, he's always somewhat on edge, even if he thinks I don't notice. It's as if he thinks he'll blink and I'll be gone too, that I'll leave him behind." I reminisce, thinking back on the almost-freak outs I've had to talk my way out of.
"He's just worried about you, sweetheart. He loves you so much. You're one of the lucky ones. Some kids have parents that don't care enough about their children. Don't forget that, okay?" She says, smoothing the hair in front of my eyes.
I give a tired sigh. "Thanks... Mom." I yawn, falling back into a dreamless sleep.
This time I wake and there's so many eyes watching me: Scott, Stiles, Kira, Allison, Isaac... Lydia.
"Geez, you guys have nothing better to do than to watch me sleep? It's a little creepy." I tease, trying to break the awkward silence that envelops the room.
Allison stepped up first. "We wanted to be here when you woke up. We were really scared here for a while, Malia." She finishes, coming over the side of the bed and squishing me in one her her infamous Allison Argent hugs that only she could provide.
I'd always had a soft spot for Allison. She always listened to me, ya know. She taught me that you don't have to be supernatural to be strong. She'd always been such a free spirit, a warrior, and I wanted to be like her too. But most of all, her heart was wide and open, leaving room for things like love and forgiveness. I had a lot I needed to be forgiven for not too long ago. I know Scott wants to love her pathetically and and hopelessly, and I can only dream that she lets him one day.
Next was Isaac. He ruffled my hair and placed a small kiss on my forehead. He and I have always been able to relate to each other on an intimate level. He came from a broken home, check. Me too. He's experienced grief and knows what it's like to lose a mother. It's like losing a limb and learning how to live again. Sometimes we'll just sit together after a pack meeting or one of their lacrosse game and lean on each other and see how the other is doing. It means so much to the both of us, because we need that, that sense of belonging and knowing that someone else just gets it.
And then Kira. Sweet, beautiful Kira. She stumbles over her words and trips over her own two feet, apologizing profusely afterwards. She gives me a long hug and whispers in my ear how things will get better. She had joined the pack late, but better late then never. She has the kindest soul that you could ever find in a world as corrupt as this one. I try to not let my negativity rub off on her because I need a little bit of her sunshine, sometimes. She's so good, so pure, and I don't think I've ever been more envious of someone in my life.
Suddenly I'm hit with the warmest brown eyes I've ever seen. Only Scott McCall is capable of radiating wholesomeness in a single look. He just looks at me with that vulnerable glint in his eyes and I know that he needs more comforting that I do. So I bring him into my arms and I know that everything is going to be okay. He holds me and I grasp onto his shirt, inhaling his woodsy scent that makes me think of home. My eyes instinctively shut and I'm in a state of bliss. Because no matter where I sleep at night or wherever I may travel in this life, he's never far away. Scott will always be my family. My peace. And my home.
Lydia falters in her steps as she slowly makes her way towards me, her stiletto heels clicking against the white, tile floor. Mascara runs down her eyes to her cheeks and her lipstick is smudged, leaving her naked for me to take in the girl behind the persona. She reaches out to me, but I pull away as if she'd burnt me. I can't look at her right now. I can't look at those eyes, those hands, those lips that had the power to break me. If you want to know how to murder someone, kiss them once and then never again. She did that once, and then she did it again when those words passed her lips. The kiss of death.
Who could ever love someone as damaged and broken as you?
"I just don't want you near me right now." I say, turning my head away from her so she can't meet my eyes.
"Malia- I'm so-" She begins.
Stiles growls from his spot in the corner of the room. His eyes burn a rimy blue, glazed and frosted over in a clear warning.
"She said she doesn't want to see you, so back the fuck up." He hisses, his sharp canines elongated to a lethal point. His stance is intimidating as he towers over her height, his chin held high right above the crown of her strawberry blonde head.
But Lydia doesn't back down.
She pokes him in the chest. "You haven't known her as long as the rest of us. What gives you the right to bark orders like a damn dog and think that you can push me around. Look sweetheart, I know you have a raging hard on for her, but listen up, I don't scare easily." She finishes, glaring up at him.
Stiles balks at her retort and lets out a devious laugh: long, slow, and drawn out to the point where anyone else listening would think he's insane.
"Is someone a little upset because I came in and saw Malia for who she was all along? I didn't need to know her for months or years to know that you guys take her for granted. I didn't have to be around her for long to know that her laugh is infectious or that she's absolutely fucking beautiful, or even that she has a demon walking around in her head. But you should of known. It didn't take a kiss to have me gravitating to her, to trip into her orbit."
He pauses and gets up in her face.
"Do you remember it, Lydia? Did your body memorize and store away all the feelings you told it to forget? The sensation of her lips? The feel of her hand? The coolness of her breath?"
He twirls a strawberry blonde lock between his finger and chuckles darkly at the way her body shivers involuntarily.
"No, you see, that's where you're wrong Lydia. I can go around barking orders because I want what's best for her. And you know what's so sad? You had her. She wanted you, loved you even, but you couldn't get out of your own way. You were too far up your own pretentious ass, so far behind the curve... That you thought you were first." He concludes, peering at her with false sympathy and a crooked smile of pearly white teeth.
"Enough, you two! Can you guys give me a minute alone with Stiles, please?" I ask, except it's not really a request, but an order.
Scott looks over at me. "You sure, 'Lia?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. He'd never hurt me." I say with finality, looking towards the door with a nod of my head.
And I can't help but notice the way Lydia flinches at the certainty in my voice when I show my trust in Stiles. He wouldn't hurt me, but she would.
Everyone exits the room one by one and Lydia lingers by the door for just a moment longer. I stare right past her with a blank expression as if there was no one there at all. Her shoes squeak against the floor as she turns on her heel and rushes out of the room.
Stiles moves the closest chair to the side of the bed and grabs my hand in between his warm ones and brings them up to his lips.
"You didn't have to say all that, you know. I can handle Lydia." I started off, getting distracted by the moles that form an mini constellation on his cheek.
"I know, but I wanted to. She doesn't get to talk to you, not if you don't want her to. I know what she said, Malia. And it's pretty fucked up, and not true at all."
"But what if it is? What if I am too broken for anyone to ever love me?" I ponder with a whimper that is uncharacteristic of me. I don't like others seeing me vulnerable. I hate feeling weak.
"That's impossible. Don't you realize who you are, Malia?" He asks dumbfounded, as if the answer is so obvious.
"I'm just me. And it feels like that isn't enough sometimes." I confess, squeezing his hand harder.
He rubs his thumb over my knuckles and he laughs. A genuine, jovial laugh.
"It's so much more than that and I can't believe you don't see it. You're... A sweet disposition. You're energy and atoms and particles and magic. You're broken, yes. But you're broken fragments. Fragments of galaxies that spiral in and out of consciousness. They're in your eyes, you know. You're warm and you're kind. And you're brazenly blunt and enigmatic. You're sexy and you're free. You're also human, all stardust and wobbly knees. That is more than enough. Don't you get it?" His eyes demand. He's looking at me as if he's searching for understanding there. He wants to know if I'm accepting what he's saying as fact, if I believe him.
And I do.
I press all my weight into him and melt in his arms. This is where I want to be, right here with a boy that doesn't see me as a blank canvas, but as a muse. And he is the artist just waiting to fill me with color.
"Can you take me somewhere?" I whisper in his ear, my lips gliding against his earlobe.
He chuckles nervously and blushes. "Yeah... Yeah I think I know a place." His caramel eyes light up in excitement. He's careful to pick me up and whisks me away through the window. No one even has to know that we're gone.
He carries me bridal style and runs all the way to an unknown destination. Well, unknown to me considering it's dark outside and I don't exactly have supernatural senses to tell me where everything is.
A burst of euphoria sends shivers down my spin as the anticipation begins to build and the wind whips through my hair.
We pass so many trees on a path that seems endless and gray skies stretch on for miles. Stiles starts to slow until his medium jog turns into a tireless walk. In the crevice between the underbrush lies a den covered in moss, twigs, and leaves. Next to it there's an old quilt littered with dirt and a rusty old bicycle.
He sets me down on the ground and takes a seat beside me. I immediately shake from the cold, but try not to be too obvious about it. I can't help it that I'm naturally cold-natured. Stiles sports an amused grin as he shrugs off his hoodie and puts it over my head and helps me maneuver my arms through the holes. I mouth a silent thank you and smile at his thoughtfulness.
"So where were you the other night when I got hurt? You must have been somewhat close if you heard me." I question casually, but deep down I really wanted to know.
Stiles opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again, probably deciding how much he wants to tell me.
"Well... I went looking for Peter." He says simply, but without regret.
"And..." I press, needing to know what else happened.
"And... I found him." He finishes with a look on his face that was meant to officially end the conversation. However, I've never been good at catching hints or respecting personal boundaries, so I further my questioning.
"Did you kill him, Stiles?"
A pregnant pause disrupts the friendly atmosphere and Stiles doesn't say anything.
I grab his chin between my fingers and turn him to face me.
"Try to remember that I had a Nogitsune take over my body that terrorized my friends and killed a ton of innocent people. You're not the only one with blood on your hands. I won't judge, promise." I vow, holding his gaze so he knows I'm serious.
The corner of his lips upturn in a ghost of a smile. "Thanks, Malia."
"I didn't kill him. I wanted to so bad. I had been tailing him for a while and finally caught him in a clearing north of here. He didn't even know who I was, can you believe that? But at least I had the element of surprise on my side. I remember shouting questions at him, so many accusations and strangled words that I could barely get out of my throat. I guess I never really thought about what it would be like to be in front of him, to be able to look him in the eye and put a face to my mother's killer. I thought I'd be satisfied, but I just felt cold."
"I was about to tell him who I was, explain to him what that means and how he ruined my life in a matter of seconds. I was ready to shout and scream and claw him to pieces and tear out his throat with my teeth. I was going to give in to the monster. I'd deal with the aftermath later. I'd thought about leaving town afterwards. I thought of it all. I was going to leave Derek a letter, and you... I was going to wait until you were sleeping and say goodbye then. I knew that if you were awake, there was no way I could have just walked away from you. I'm a coward, I know." He admits, retreating into himself with shame.
"Why did you stop?"
"I told you. I heard you scream. It's all I could think about. I had Peter in my grasps. All I needed was to deliver one final blow and I'd have everything I'd ever wanted, revenge. But I couldn't ignore you. You sounded like you were in so much pain and your scream whistled through the wind and echoed off the trees. I couldn't be selfish with you. You were what mattered in that moment. Not vengeance, spite, or hate.
You. You mattered.
"So I had to grit my teeth and deal with it. I reluctantly let him go and came looking for you. That's when I found you in Lydia's lakehouse with glass protruding from your side. I'd never been more scared in my life. I was terrified that the last words I would have ever said to you would be from the greenhouse." Stiles confesses, shaking his head and getting misty eyed just thinking about the possibly of a world without her.
Third Person POV:
They sit together for a little while longer before he has to take her back to the hospital. Their skin prickles as their hands lay parallel to each other, but don't actually make contact. Malia has come to appreciate the electric hum that vibrates through her veins at the intimacy of the almost touch. They laugh about trivial things and lay together on the beat up old blanket as they look up at the sky. And in the ruins of the stars, he was a moonless charcoal and she was a saturated sunrise. With unsteady breaths and shining eyes, she wonders if he feels like his life was as off as hers, remembering a time when they were without each other.
Author's Note: I had so much fun writing this chapter. If you're enjoying the ride so far, please take a second and leave a review! I love knowing what you all like and dislike so I can be a better writer. Love you all! Xoxo, etherealmindss
