In the claws of evil

by sterek-addict

Stiles wakes up in a dilapidated room in the middle of nowhere. As a man approaches him, he remembers that he was abducted on his way out of school. A strange dialogue begins between him and his kidnapper. The reasons for his kidnapping are revealed to him. (/!\ WARNING M: Difficult subjects)

/!\WARNING: must read!

The following text is a concentrate of difficult topics. The raiting M is not there for decoration. If your state of mind does not allow you to deal with psychologically taxing topics, don't read this OS. Just take it from me and please, if you leave a negative comment, don't be insulting.

Thank you

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In the claws of evil (OS)

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When I woke up, I found that I was lying on a shabby mattress in the middle of a dilapidated room. The sun was setting and the low light glared at me. My eyes ached, as if little tyrannical hands were tugging at my optic nerves. I was completely disoriented, I did not understand anything and I was sure that something serious was going to happen to me. I took a breath and looked around, trying to remember how I had ended up there. I couldn't remember ever being in such a place and it was difficult to contact my memories. A dull pain pulsed in my skull and prevented me from concentrating. I sighed my discomfort and felt someone watching me.

I jumped to my feet and instinctively looked towards the only entrance, my heart pounding. There was a man standing in the doorway. He looked at me with emotionless eyes and my breath caught. He was handsome, dark, tall and strong, and his unruffled green eyes seemed hypnotic. My pulse raced with fear. This person had kidnapped me when I left school. Everything came back to me and panic instantly infused my veins.

I had been given a detention by my Chemistry teacher and so I had left school later than the vast majority of the students. In the car park in front of the school, a man was waiting, leaning against a car. He had called out to me and despite the mistrust I had felt, I had gone to meet him, intrigued by his manner. His face told me something, but at the time I was unable to tell where I had seen him. When I reached him, I had no time to react when he shackled me and applied a chloroformed handkerchief to my face. The night had invaded my mind and I was now there, in the middle of nowhere, with this dangerous stranger who had abducted me for some reason unknown to me.

I could not think clearly. As I tried to come to terms with what was happening, I considered what I could do to escape the fate this dangerous character had in store for me. My ideas were clashing without coherence. I felt lost, I didn't know what to do, and anguish was gripping me to silence all understanding within me. It was as if an invisible cage was gripping my mind and I had the burning feeling of being trapped, of being unable to find a solution to save my skin. I could not find a way to save my own skin. Confronting this man would do me no good and panic infected my trembling limbs.

'You're not getting out of here until I'm gone, Stiles.'

How did he know my nickname? Why was I there? What was going to happen? What was he trying to tell me? Why me? A flood of questions assailed me and I heard the echo of my captor's voice in my thoughts. It was low and deep, but there was no emotion in it.

'If it is because of my father that you have taken me away, know that he will never give in to your blackmail, whatever it may be.'

I don't know why I say this, but the words came out and the lack of response from the man-made me question their relevance.

'It is your father I am aiming at through you, but you don't know what I want. So, shut up, your voice is annoying. Finally, if you have to talk to me, I would prefer that you say "no" to me, I am not a respectable person, I am only a criminal.'

Still no emotion in the voice of this guy who approached me with a predatory gait. I shivered with fear, my insides knotted up and I felt like I was going to shit myself. The aura of this man was frightening and whatever he wanted from me, everything told me it was dangerous. I was afraid of being hurt and when he was in my living space I tensed and closed my eyes, squeezing my eyelids in apprehension.

'I took care to kidnap you properly, without causing you any injury. I didn't tie you up because I want things to be simple between us, without abruptness. I'm tougher than you, obviously stronger and certainly more imaginative when it comes to punishment. So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to escape, otherwise I'll have to hurt you, and believe me, I don't want that. If you behave yourself, everything will be fine. Is that clear?'

His tone was cold and there was no compassion in this guy. He seemed to be a soulless robot and I immediately believed everything he said. I was literally paralysed with fear and my only reflex was to nod my head to let him know that I had understood his warnings.

'Look at me, Stiles, and say it out loud.'

Fearfully, I opened my eyes and let myself be blinded by his pale face. For all the terror he inspired in me, I found him beautiful. His thick black eyebrows, his green eyes with silver and golden hues, his straight nose, his thin mouth, his thick jaw covered with a soft beard. Could evil be more attractive?

'Yes,' I said, my stomach in knots.

My captor nodded slowly and scanned my eyes for any hint of a lie. I didn't know why I was disturbed by his manner, and I suddenly had the impression that even if he was dangerous, I would have nothing to fear from him. Emboldened by this strange intuition, I had the audacity to ask him a question.

'Why are we here?'

My voice sounded like that of a child. I was as straight as a rail, and when his eyes met mine I felt a renewed sense of unease, as if he could read me. Yet he expressed nothing with his body, his face remained impassive.

'I will tell you my story, we will discuss, or rather, I will talk and you can ask questions. But you have to let me dominate the discussion. You can stand or sit, but you should know that it will be long.'

'I have no choice?'

I knew my question sucked, but I didn't understand what was going to happen. Why was this guy doing this? What did he want from such a situation? Was he a criminal who wanted to get back at my father? Why were we in a ruined house in the middle of the Beacon Hills Forest? Had the search for me already begun? Was this man going to kill me? Why did my desire to know why he was doing this override my fear? How would this night go? Would I still be the same sixteen-year-old tomorrow? All these questions vanished when he spoke in a monotone.

'Do you feel you have a choice?'

'No.'

'That answers your question. Let's start then.'

He took a few steps, spun around and froze, glaring at me with a blank stare. A vacuum was immediately created in my stomach. I was afraid of the words he was about to say. For the first time in my life, my curiosity was at a standstill and I knew he was going to tell me horrible things, tell me unhealthy events, sordid stories. I forced myself to stare at him, but I trembled inside.

'They say that I don't feel anything, that the only emotion I am able to express is anger. They say behind my back that I lack humanity, that nothing matters to me and that I am hollow. According to some, I am easy to deconstruct, there is nothing really complex about my dimensionless personality. I am thought to be arrogant, misanthropic, moody, unable to smile and labelled as an asocial, uninteresting failure.'

He paused and looked at my reactions. I didn't want him to think I was judging him like the others. That could have been detrimental to me. He was painting a rather unfavourable picture of himself and I felt that it didn't describe him at all. No, this guy was not simple, he was an enigma. I couldn't see anything in him and it was so difficult to decipher anything in the way he acted that I felt like I was looking at a coded message, without a key to translate it. Thinking that his silence meant that he wanted me to say something, I intervened.

'Does it bother you that others see you like this?'

I scratched my head in a reflex that felt like a knock. My nerves were tingling and I didn't know what to do. My body was tingling all over and I sweated out my disappointment. I had said 'no' to him as he had asked, but his eyes said nothing as he approached my stiffened figure again with stress. He did not even raise an eyebrow or show the slightest hint of an emotional reaction. Despite his icy demeanour, it was this unmusical tone that made me fear him most.

'No, I don't mind, on the contrary, I don't want people to be interested in me. I don't want people to look in my direction, I just want to be left alone. I've been through too much without ever having the right to complain, to wish that people would come to me or really see who I am. It hurts me to exist, I can't stand it. I often wonder why I'm still here, waiting for death to come. But I guess even the reaper looks at me with disdain and is reluctant to come and get me. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.'

His last words made my blood run cold and I felt my breath catch with a new fear. What was he saying? What was the point of this unflappable man's arguments and actions? As I feared his obvious lack of sensitivity, I felt the need to make my voice heard.

'What do you mean?' I asked, my heart panicking, my mind clouded with anxiety.

He answered me, certainly feeling that my question was in line with the direction he wanted to take with the interview he was imposing on both of us. In any case, he continued as if I had not interrupted him. He said things to me that made my guts clench, it was as if these words were echoing in my body to make me experience the horrible sensations he was talking about, yet without it affecting him in any way. My stomach churned.

'I've tried to end my life several times. It wasn't cries for help, it was really the urge to end it. Between slit wrists, poisoning from a drug overdose and the need to throw myself into the middle of the road at rush hour, my attempts have all been dismal failures. I have been prevented from disappearing every time and the worst part is that the person I hate most on this earth "saved" me. Everyone always thought he was a hero and I was a poor, psychologically flawed guy. Sure, over time I became one and I'm so lame, so insignificant, that I don't even know how to die properly. But this time, there will be no one to prevent my end.'

A surge of adrenaline shot through my organs and I felt as if they were liquefying under the pressure of old resentments. It hurt to hear those words, thrown around like empty statements. This guy was suffering like I had rarely seen anyone suffer and yet he showed nothing of it. Understanding him hurt me with a power that blocked the air in my lungs. When I could breathe again, my tongue activated without my wanting it to and I found myself contradicting him without knowing why.

'Don't say such things, it's … it's not right.'

He looked at me, still unruffled, still unexpressive, still in that state which meant that he was no longer an emotional person. My eyes clouded over and I knew that he was going to say something that would make me sad.

'I'm not a good person. You must have realised that because you are here against your will. Don't play the sympathy game, it's no use, it's not the role I expect you to play. I want to die and you are my ticket to the afterlife. My heart is still beating and the torment is unbearable. I wish I didn't have to think about anything anymore, but I don't know how to do that either. I have stopped crying unnecessarily, I have stopped hoping that one day everything will change. I don't want to believe that I can still escape from this city, from this life that weighs me down and crushes me into uselessness. I want so much for all this to stop, I can't take it anymore.'

The words came out of his mouth as if programmed and the lack of vocal fluctuations infected the pulses in my chest. This guy had no expectations. He had said he was going to use me, but at the time I didn't care. I saw a lost soul, I felt the darkness of his despair painfully, so deep that it sucked out even the most basic of his human reactions, turning him into a disembodied automaton. My captor was not going to hurt me, I was an excuse, a pretext. This realisation struck me and tears welled up in my eyes. I held back, but against all odds, I was no longer afraid of this man. No, the anguish that knotted my throat and diffused the uneasiness within me was this unmentionable desire to revive the humanity of this being truly deteriorated from within.

'It … it's not the solution to want death,' I said in a weak, trembling voice.

'You don't know anything about it, you haven't lived my life. Death is the sweetest thought I have left to entertain. Don't speak if you don't know. The indifference of others has rotted me, I am useless. I am not useful and I have no desire to learn to pretend to be. The days are one torture after another and my pain is growing to the point of being gaping. You are my way out and I will use you until my own deliverance, so don't try to change my mind or naively believe that you can save me. It's hopeless, there's no hope.'

He turned his back on me so as not to face all the violent emotions that his speech was stirring up in me and that I was unable to hold in my breast. I fell to my knees under the weight of the terrible feelings he was imposing on me. I lowered my head to the charred floor and trembled helplessly. Why did I have to be so sensitive to the condition of the enemy who was revealing himself in the person of this man? Why did I want to help him rather than betray the promise I had made to him and look for a way out of here?

'If there is no hope, what is the point of talking to me and telling me all this?'

I stood up cold. I didn't know how to deal with my body, in which so many annoyances were dancing? What was I to do with my hands, which had become clammy with discomfort? The question I had just asked him seemed silly when he turned to stare at me. Was I imagining that he was still alive, or was he holding back from feeling things from me? Suddenly I found myself wishing I could instill feelings in him.

'Because I want to get it off my chest before I take the plunge into nothingness. Maybe I'm subconsciously hoping that you'll be able to forgive me for putting you through this experience for purely personal reasons that have nothing to do with you. But even that I don't really believe. In fact, I'm an egotist. I don't give a damn what you think of me afterwards, my soul is already dead. I've never told anyone the truth about my life, and selfishly I want them to know who I was. So, you will become my memory. I am usually silent and you must know that you are the first person in years to hear the sound of my voice. I will tell you everything, to justify this situation I am putting you through.'

My heart beat faster when I heard this. Had this guy just randomly picked me out of all the students at Beacon Hills, or had he been spying around the school to select his prey? It was obvious that he had purposely selected me because my father was the sheriff, but then why did he want to tell me about his reasons? All these riddles were disturbing me like never before. He had chosen me, he had deemed me worthy of listening to his confessions, and I was overwhelmed. Someone had chosen me to play a role in his life, and even if he was a criminal, it didn't change the importance he gave me. The empathy that increasingly bound me to this kidnapper redoubled. Yet I denied these impressions even as I allowed myself to be engulfed by my feelings. I trembled and spoke to defend myself from my temptation to go to him.

'What if I don't want to know, what if I don't want to be what you want me to be?'

'It doesn't matter if you want to or not, you are my hostage. If you don't want me to hurt you for free, you will listen to me, you will hear what I have to say.'

His voice was an icy whip that tried to force me to believe that he had no regard for my feelings and everything inside me told me that he did not. He approached me and I found myself shaking in place. Did I want him? Was it this confusion that was taking over my body? Was I losing my footing completely?

'I don't understand, you're troubling me so much … why me?'

My words escaped in a feverish gasp as I finally looked down at my shoes, close to crying. My captor gently reached out his hand and lifted my chin to force me to look at him. Despite the gentleness of his gestures, he remained stoic. Nothing transpired from him, his intentions remained opaque.

'Because you looked happy and kind. Because you are the son of an influential man. Because the fact that you are young will force the authorities to react more quickly. Because I am sure they will have no qualms about me. I'm completely unbalanced, I can't feel anything anymore, what do you call that?'

His warmth left my cheek and he took a step back. I blinked sadly at this insensitive-looking being who had touched me for no real reason. Although he showed no sign of it, I was sure he was disturbed by our interaction. I breathed in to prepare to speak, but he cut me off.

'Don't answer, it wasn't a real question. I want you to get up and sit back down on the mattress. You had better obey me if you want me to remain respectful of you. I haven't abused you yet, don't make me do it.'

The way he spoke retained this emotional flatness. I did exactly what he wanted me to do. I didn't understand the state he was putting me in. He was not violent, he spoke with clarity, he was delicate when he pretended not to feel anything. Why would a criminal do this? What was I going through? Did it all make sense? And I shuddered at having been touched. I felt as much like revolting myself from the touch as I did try to get close to him. I didn't know what I was feeling anymore, I was lost.

'I'm scared,' I whispered as I sat down on the bed I had left when I woke up.

He followed me and took his place beside me without entering my living space. When he spoke to me, his voice was lower.

'Tonight, you're gonna see a man die where he should have died a long time ago. It's okay to be scared, Stiles.'

Even though he remained phlegmatic, I felt from him a surge of tenderness towards me, and yet his attitude did not reflect any of that. Why did I try to convince myself that he was not what he seemed? As his words made sense in my mind, the panic became more pronounced. I did not want him to die. My mind raced and I knew the identity of my captor. He was the suspected madman whose name had been on everyone's lips for the past few days. That's how I understood why I had been convinced I knew him the moment he had stopped me in the school car park. He was wanted by all the police because he had abducted his uncle from the hospital.

'You're the survivor of the fire, you're Derek Hale? People say you were in the asylum. How did you escape? Please don't hurt me, don't hurt yourself in front of me, I don't want you to die.'

I got up and spun around, he really was a criminal, so why wouldn't my heart accept that he could be an evil person? What should I do? The man answered me as if he had heard my thoughts.

'If you continue to act as I wish, nothing will happen to you. I escaped a week ago, the news has reported it and so has the regional paper. Don't try to save time by making obvious deductions. I'm not going to hurt you if you don't do anything about me. Cooperate and I'll keep it straight with you. Sit down,' he ordered me without an expression changing the shape of his face.

I hesitated for a moment and did as he wished. Why did his proximity reassure me when everything I knew about him should have put me in the most elementary state of alert? I had the feeling that I understood him that I felt in myself what he did not express. God, I was going crazy. I had been kidnapped by a guy who had escaped from the asylum and my own madness was being revealed by him.

'That's good, eat this and listen to my story,' he said slowly.

He took some milk buns from a bag I hadn't noticed until he rummaged through it and handed them to me. I shyly grabbed them and for some absurd reason did everything he said, unwrapping the bun and starting to feed myself even though I was not hungry. He watched me and seemed satisfied with my behaviour as he started talking again.

'You can ask me questions if you like, and I'll tell you anything you want to know. But I have to be sure that you won't try to run away from me. The police will come and free you, I hope that's clear to you.'

As I chewed the bread, I nodded to indicate that I agreed to his terms. What was happening to me? Why had I forgotten to think about running away and instead tried to understand him? I had the intimate feeling that he cared for me when he had kidnapped me to satisfy some obscure purpose in which he saw himself dying. I swallowed.

'Promise,' he said in a rougher voice.

I swallowed my mouthful and widened my eyes at his first frown. He had just revealed something he felt and a strange confidence crept into my veins. I answered him as if he were a guy from my school.

'Yes, that's fine, I won't do anything, I'll just sit back and cooperate. There, are you happy?'

'I always knew when people were lying to me, so yes, I'm satisfied, I know you're telling the truth. Keep eating and lean against the pillow, you'll be more comfortable.'

I looked at him strangely and couldn't suppress the pleasure I felt at being mothered by a guy who … a criminal straight out of the mental asylum. Was I developing the early stages of Stockholm syndrome? So quickly, it was simply impossible. I had only been in his company for a few hours. In fact, despite his rusticity, this guy was considerate of me, he cared about my well-being and that was more than most people I knew. Why did some nutcase who wanted to use me to die have to be nicer than most of my classmates? Derek's voice brought me out of my thoughts.

'The first time it happened I was eight years old and at that time I was a shy but happy little boy. I was playing alone in my room and I was happy. I didn't hear him come in, I was playing with my cars and he sat down next to me. I jumped up and he reassured me. He asked me what I was doing and I told him, but I wasn't comfortable around him, his voice and behaviour were strange. He told me that my acting sucked, that he had something nicer to offer me. I didn't want to upset him so I said okay. He got up and closed the door, jammed the handle with my desk chair and lay down in my bed.'

As my captor's words hit me hard, I shut down, dropped my bread and refused to understand the memory he shared with me. I did not wish to know the details of what had made him so, I was afraid and my insides contracted. My voice came out without me wanting to speak, I couldn't help it.

'No, I don't want to hear the rest, I don't want to know,' I said plaintively.

He immediately cut me off and I saw an expression of pure anger appear on his face. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds.

'If you don't have any questions to ask, you are not allowed to interrupt me. I was saying … he opened his trousers and started to touch his sex, he asked me to come closer. I was petrified.'

At these words, I felt as if the world was collapsing around us that only our makeshift mattress was left floating on a black and terrifying sea. My breath hitched and I protested again.

'No Derek, no … stop, I don't want to,' I begged him, eager to bury my head in the sand so as not to understand his pain, not to experience its reflection in my gut.

'I didn't want to either! I was just a kid!'

He shouted his words hatefully before suddenly calming down and resuming a placid attitude.

'And yet, that day I discovered the taste of my Uncle Peter's cock. He manhandled me, forced me to suck him and he ejaculated in my mouth. It was horrible and I cried. He told me that if I talked about it, if I said even one word, he would kill everyone. I had to keep what he had done to me a secret, or he would slit my mum and dad's throat, my older sister's, he would murder them in their sleep. I threw up, I was sick, I didn't understand anything. Why was he bad, why had he hurt me?'

Silence fell between us and I felt as if I could no longer breathe. I shook with a refusal, I was in pain, I wanted to save this being who was confessing his misfortune to me. The daylight was fading and Derek stood up stiffly to turn on an LED lantern that he must have stolen from a convenience store in the trinket aisle. I swallowed as he took his seat and felt it my duty to keep this discussion going. Yet in my heart I wished I was deaf to whatever this man who had been mistreated was going to tell me.

'Did he live with you?'

My voice became fragile, I vibrated with empathy. My captor gave me a look without identity, like those of the survivors in these war-torn countries that we see too often on the news. I was disturbed beyond words. I didn't know where this certainty came from, but I knew he was telling a truth that no one knew. My heart sank with pain and I managed to stop the flood of tears that was building up inside me. I wanted to comfort that dead child rotting in Derek Hale's chest. I wanted to extinguish the echo of the pain that lingered in my gut. I needed to comfort this victim who was revealing himself to me, and yet I knew it was simply useless. It was too late to mend her shattered heart.

'My mother took in her brother who had money problems. Yes, he was living with us. That's why he kept forcing me to put my lips on his cock, and every time he wanted me to drink his cum, to swallow. I had already tried to spit and he had seriously corrected me, so I did whatever he wanted. I was helpless. And then he wanted more. When I was eleven, he started fucking me, raping me every night, until I wanted to die. When my privacy was dirty, he humiliated me. He would smear my face with my own feces, my own blood. He made me suck it clean. He did this to me until I was thirteen, until I was totally trained to satisfy his sickening fantasies.'

There was resignation in Derek's statement and I felt myself crumbling in sadness. After so many years of unbearable tarnish, it was enough to drive me mad. A few sobs escaped me and painful tears assaulted my cheeks. Why were adults doing this to children? Why did such things exist?

'No, it's not … how is it possible that no one saw anything of his cruelty?'

I sniffed as I said this, but my interlocutor did not seem to understand the state in which his confession put me. He sighed and looked away from me.

'A man as kind and helpful as Peter couldn't have drawn suspicion to himself. Everyone thought he was very protective of his clumsy nephew. Why are you crying?' he asked in a tone of voice made abruptly by irritation.

'Because a monster trampled on your innocence, because nobody understood anything. Why did this … bastard stay in your house so long?'

I felt bad, I wanted to vomit. I took on his story and suffered what he could no longer show. Derek had been so outraged that he no longer knew what joy was. I was physically so close to this man and I couldn't touch him. He would have prevented me from doing so and yet I did not wish to embrace him, to soothe all the evil that was eating away at his soul. Despite my attention, I could not move and he continued to speak. I felt as if his ancient nightmare was becoming mine.

'My uncle helped our family by his presence. Active and hard-working, my parents could rely on him to take care of the housekeeping and all the domestic tasks. It was comfortable for them to have him in our home, much more so than to imagine sending him away. He was perfect in his role of help and support. Wipe away your tears, they only affect you. You are not crying for me, but imagining yourself in my place hurts you. Your pity for me is worthless, you can keep it. You're not here for that anyway, I'm already dead, nothing reaches me anymore, it's useless.'

His voice was so calm as he said this. He was lying about his lack of humanity, I was sure of it when I saw his eyelid vibrate subtly. He was protecting himself, locking everything up inside him, until he collapsed into his inner prison. I hated that he had become a hostage to his ailments. I hated that he was telling me what I should feel. I began to scream.

'You don't get to choose how I feel and it's not pity! Oh my God Derek, what are you gonna do tonight?'

My tears could not stop flowing and he looked at me with this strange questioning. To him everything seemed obvious and he couldn't admit that I didn't understand.

'Tell you the rest,' he said coldly.

'No, I don't want to, I … it's too difficult.'

My sobs redoubled and I curled up even more, hugging my knees to my chest.

'I'm the one who's been through it! Don't tell me it's difficult when you're just hearing about my past!'

He banged his fist on the dingy mattress we were occupying and I gasped, afraid that he would finally react. However, when his eyes fell on my face it was as if all his resentment was extinguished and he quickly regained his composure.

'I am not just a victim in this story. I did horrible things hoping to get out of the self-destructive spiral of this man who pretended to love me while I sobbed about the pain he caused me. I became anorexic because I was afraid, I would be dirty when he came to take me by force. I didn't eat anything and my family started to worry. Peter forced me to eat, he forced me in every way imaginable. I was in his clutches and I couldn't say anything, I couldn't fight back. When I was fifteen, I made my first suicide attempt, I couldn't take it anymore. My uncle arrived before all my blood had left me.'

I interrupted him with tears. I didn't want to live his misfortune by proxy. I didn't want to feel the distress he wasn't showing anyone. I felt guilty, like one of those people who had been blind to his hell.

'Derek…'

He ignored my plea and resumed his story. I continued to lose myself in tears. My soul was aching, I didn't know who I was anymore.

'I was put in an asylum, I was diagnosed with deep depression. I couldn't speak, I was mute. When I came back after several months of internment, Peter left me alone for a while. Then it all started all over again. Not content with raping me, he subjected me to all his whims. I had to serve him, to be his devoted slave, and as soon as I balked, the punishment was terrible. I resented my parents for not seeing, I hated the whole world for forcing me to stay with him under the pretext that he was taking care of me, when no one else had any time left to devote to my "illness". How ironic. He isolated me from others, he persecuted me, and he passed for the most caring person ever. Each time I tried to die, he arrived in time to prevent the only deliverance that was possible. Even if I had had the strength to speak, no one would have believed me. After several stints in the asylum, anything I could say had the value of mental imbalance.'

Derek fell silent and I managed to calm my emotions. I wanted to stay with him, I wanted to press my body against his to let him know that not all humans were horrible. I wanted to show him that love existed and that you didn't have to know people forever to give them what they needed. He stood still and watched the night grow around us. Only the junk lantern was shining on us and I took the opportunity to move closer to his position. I didn't dare touch him, but I penetrated his intimate space all the same. He did not look at me and, thinking against myself, I intervened.

'Did you burn down the manor?' I asked shyly.

He replied by lowering his head in his hands. He remained seated and I understood that he was overwhelmed, although he did not show it.

'I had no way to defend myself, I was desperate, I hated the whole world. One night I decided to set fire to our house and hoped to die with my whole family. But that scumbag Peter pulled me out of the flames before he fell into a coma from his burns. I ended up in Eichen House where I was treated for a behavioural disorder leading to episodes of paranoid psychosis. I wasn't crazy before I met the doctors, I just wanted it all to stop, I was at my wits' end. I never spoke during the sessions with the shrinks, I never tried to bond with the other residents. I stopped being and let my demons silence me. I was not allowed to die, so I occupied my days with sports and reading. I didn't say anything, I made no effort to heal from an illness I never had. When they came to tell me that my uncle had woken up, I ran away from the comfortable hell that had been my life for six years.'

Derek seemed to drift off into his thoughts and I moved closer again. Our knees touched and he acted as if nothing had happened. A new certainty crept into me and I expressed it.

'Tell me you kidnapped him to kill him, tell me you got rid of that piece of trash that was being kept alive for no reason.'

When the words escaped my lips, I no longer recognized myself. I hoped that a man was dead, I wished that my captor was guilty of murder. The paradox of my feelings did not bother me, and I could not help feel the truth of this necessity. It was irrepressible. When he answered, I sighed with relief.

'His body is rotting in the woods, not far from here. I took his life with my bare hands, face to face, eye to eye. But nothing has changed, nothing. I am still empty, broken. I don't feel relieved, nothing is satisfied or soothed inside me, nothing.'

Derek's words were a dagger in my flesh and I slowly backed away, cutting the fragile contact of our legs together. He still wanted to die, that was his one wish and he was going to use me to that end. But how? Would he ask me to take his life? Horror seeped into my mind and I choked. He turned to me and his eyes shone with incomprehension. I questioned him to prevent him from grasping my thoughts.

'Why did you choose me, beyond the fact that my father is a policeman?'

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. There was gentleness in this act of breathing and I froze in the hope that he would want to survive for me. Was I happy that he chose to take me? Was it gratitude that I wanted to show him? But what was happening to me? I felt like I knew him better than anyone else and I wished he would love me. I knew I was screwed, I would do anything he wanted, anything. His deep voice made the atmosphere vibrate and excitement rose in my lower abdomen. I wanted to love him like no one else had.

'When I kidnapped Peter, I saw you in the hospital with another boy talking to a nurse. You were so much more than I am. I thought I had a twinge of sadness when I first saw you. It was weird, nobody had made me feel anything for so long. From then on you became a kind of obsession, I spied on you and I understood why I wanted you. A plan started to form in my head. Your father could have been anyone, it wouldn't have made any difference. It's a good thing he's a cop, though, because that's gonna make our job easier. You're my way out, Stiles, because of you I'm going to be allowed to disappear off the face of the earth.'

Tears rolled down my cheeks again and I moved closer to him. He stayed put and looked at me without expressing anything more than a question.

'Please don't kill yourself, don't do it,' I said, sobbing, my head down.

He put a hand on my cheek and I looked up at him. I wanted him to kiss me, but he did not. His fingers left my skin as he continued to analyse me with his eyes.

'I don't know how to kill myself, I've tried so many times and failed. I don't know how to die, so I have to be killed.'

My heart sank for the umpteenth time that night. Panic overtook me and I stepped back, regained my distance to get out of his living space. He wanted me to play a morbid role in his life and I couldn't accept it. This man did not deserve death, no, he needed to be given consideration, to be respected, to have his dignity restored, to be saved from himself. I expressed my refusal by crying.

'I don't want you to die, I don't. It's not fair.'

'Life isn't fair. Look at me Stiles, I'm just a ghost with a body, I'm already wiped out. You won't be the cause of my death, you'll be my liberation. That's why I chose you, because you don't express compulsion to be you, so you have the power to deliver me.'

Derek's speech made no sense at all. Why couldn't he see that everything had changed on my side? As crazy as it was, I was discovering feelings for him and the more he talked to me, the more I accepted what was coming over me. He had turned my heart and mind inside out and that night I had fallen in love with the man who had kidnapped me. I quickly calmed down and with a newfound aplomb I told him 'no'. He became upset and I felt sure that I was responsible for the irrationality that was stirring in him. I was reviving things that he thought were dead. He recovered and clung to his reasoning.

'It's too late, Stiles. They'll find us soon and they'll shoot me to save you from me. I've left all the right clues, they won't be long now.'

The crudity of his plan dawned on me and I bristled in dismay.

'But you didn't do anything to me!'

I jumped to my feet. Derek remained calm and slowly stood up. He faced me in the darkness of the room. He was impassive and I only wished to rekindle his desire to exist. Why? He spoke in a confident voice.

'They will believe it, they must. Get naked,' he ordered me.

I stood there for a few seconds and took a step back. I didn't understand anything; this situation was turning me into a puppet and yet my feelings were endlessly contradictory. I wanted to run away and at the same time I wanted to stay. I hoped for his imprint on my body and it scared me so much that I wanted to slap myself in the face to regain my senses. My dilemmas were pushing me into the unimaginable. I could not believe what was happening to me. It was all so absurd, so morbid, so unjust. My voice stuttered.

'You're not going to … no, I…'

'Take off your clothes!'

Frightened by the sound of his voice, I jumped up and as if I were totally giddy, I hurriedly took off my jumper. Derek softened and came closer to me. I shivered.

'I'm not going to do anything to you, I'm just going to put on my best clothes too and lie down next to you, that's all. When they find us, your father will think I've abused you and he'll do what I expect him to do. He will be excused by the courts because he was defending his son from a criminal. It's all been drawn, there's nothing you can do to stop it.'

His words were true and I obediently did what he wanted me to do. I couldn't help sobbing, but contrary to what one might have thought, it was the thought of his death that brought on my tears. When I was completely undressed, I lay down on the mattress and sniffled. Derek soon joined me and we were silent for a few minutes. In the artificial light that bathed the place, I timidly observed my captor's form. He was beautiful. The years of doing nothing but reading and maintaining his body had sculpted him beautifully, and feeling his warmth radiating against my skin awakened something inside me. Why did I want him? Why did knowing he was naked next to me give me a hard-on? My breathing was ragged and when he looked at me I felt bad for feeling so attracted to him. There was no judgement in his eyes and I couldn't help asking him:

'Can I touch you?'

'What's the point,' he replied laconically.

His disillusionment hurt and I rolled onto my side to cradle my head in my hand. I didn't know what to say, and yet I wanted to convince him to let me. I drew on my inspiration of the moment to try to get my way.

'Because of you, I will live with your death on my conscience, you must give me something in return.'

My voice was harsh when I spoke. Yet deep down I had never been so unsure. It was the first time I had been naked around someone and the feelings Derek inspired by me were literally beyond me.

'What?' he asked without surprise.

A whole bunch of answers popped into my mind, but I didn't want to manipulate him. He had told me his truth, I had to do the same for him. I answered honestly.

'No one likes me at school, my exuberance is just a mask for my loneliness and … you may be the only chance I'll ever have to have sex with someone. Unlock me Derek, let me have sex with you.'

My whole skin tingled and my insides twitched with apprehension. I had stated my beliefs and my own arguments hurt. I was ready to take advantage of a man's desperation at the end of the road for the right to experience carnal love. We were as pitiful as each other. Maybe that's why I could feel so attached to someone I'd only known for a few hours. Derek looked at me and seemed dejected.

'I wouldn't feel anything Stiles, Peter destroyed everything in there,' he said, pounding his chest with his left fist. Why do you want me?'

I stood up on my elbow to watch her and felt pleasure as I saw the blossoming of doubt in her beautiful eyes.

'You … you're beautiful. You're hurting inside and… I want to try to make you experience beautiful things. Life is not all pain. Let me try, please,' I say insistently.

'Do as you please.'

Derek relented and his body seemed to relax, to go completely limp. I put my hand on his chest and caressed his hairy skin. Fries sprang up all over me. I caressed the face of this man who wanted to disappear, and my only wish was to make him want to be there with me. He did not react, so I climbed onto his body and lay on top of him. Our skins against each other were like a dream to me, and I wanted nothing more than to stay there, my head on the muscular chest of this tortured being. He didn't hug me, only his breathing rocked us, and it hurt me not to be able to make something happen in his body. I kissed his neck, his jaw and lifted my head to look at him. His eyelids were closed, tense, he was forcing himself to turn off his sensations. I wanted him to look at me, but he was closing up. Desperate to understand all this, I piteously kissed his lips, but nothing happened. I began to sob and Derek opened his eyes again.

'Why are you crying?' he asked almost innocently.

'I don't want you to die. I want to help you but not for that. Your uncle … he never loved you, he was a liar. We don't do what he did to you to people we love. Oh Derek, you need love so badly and I… I have so much to give. But no one ever lets me have it. What is so repulsive about what I try to offer? Why am I so insipid in just being me? I just want to be sincere, yet … yet I don't know how to convey joy to others.'

I cried and my voice was so heartbreaking. I was in pain; my soul was in pain and I did not know how to soothe a pain like that. Physically I was unharmed, and yet I felt underneath it all. I separated myself from Derek and continued to cry as I put myself in the fetal position. I had fallen in love with someone who could not feel because he had been so violated to the core of who he was. But what a poor fellow I was.

When my captor's hand touched my shoulder to impregnate it with gentle touches, I did not immediately understand what was happening. I continued to sob silently beside him and did not feel him move. It was only when he forced me to look at him that I noticed the change on his side. He watched me intently and I capsized. When his face came close to mine, I held my breath and my heart beat so fast that I felt it was going to burst out of my chest. He kissed my mouth gently and the tremors ran through me. He continued to press his lips to mine and I instinctively opened my mouth. Our tongues found each other and tested each other fearfully. My whole being ignited and I was nothing but vibration. Derek forced himself onto my body and pinned me down on my back to continue to conquer my mouth with more and more ardour. I caressed him passionately, I didn't know where I was anymore. Only what my kidnapper made me feel mattered. But he broke off our kiss in a panic.

'How do you do that?'

His eyes showed his fear and I tried to reassure him with tender caresses. I didn't immediately understand what was happening to him, I just wanted what he had started between us to continue. My palms strayed to his hips and his eyelids vibrated in intoxication.

'Stop it,' he said without conviction.

I put my hand on his chest and felt the strength of the urges inside him. He was losing his footing, and I realised that he was as new to the sensations of love as I was. I whispered:

'It's only your heart beating faster Derek, it's only life coming back.'

And it was an obviousness that slapped him in the face and made him tremble like a child. He looked at me, his eyes wide and I knew I could take his mouth hostage, I knew he wanted it. So, I did. We kissed and he wanted me astride him. I let myself do it and as our stiffnesses caressed each other, he became wilder. How good his fucks tasted, how powerful he was, how good it felt to feel his desire for me. Our mouths parted and I kissed the hollow of his neck. I nibbled on his earlobe and moved down his body to kiss his chest, titillate his nipples, bury my nose in his hair. He was panting, he was shivering, he was no longer an automaton, he was living and vibrating under my attention. When I took hold of his sex, a moan of pleasure left his throat and this encouraged me. I then clumsily licked his glans and he let out a grunt of pure pleasure before pushing me away.

'Oh my God, no, I don't want to, you're scaring me… I don't want to become like…'

His eyes were revolted and I had a moment of hesitation when I didn't understand anything. When I realised what was happening to him, I made it my duty to reassure him. Although I knew nothing about it, I found myself introducing a man to the vagaries of consensual sex. Our situation was so strange and yet I wanted him like I had never wanted anyone before.

'Shh … it's not the same. I want you Derek, it's me who wants to put your sex in my mouth. It's my wish. Did it hurt, did you want to do it to me? Do you want us to stop?'

My voice was soft, warm. I don't know where I got this ease from, but it worked.

'No,' he replied as if he had become candid again.

'It's just fun. Does it feel good?'

My question was answered with a positive nod and he released his pressure on my shoulders. I then sucked him tenderly with all the gentleness I could muster. I stroked him and little naive moans came from his mouth to encourage me to continue. No one had ever taken care to give him pleasure. He ran his fingers through my hair and I stroked his bursa as I engulfed his stiff sex. It felt so good to have him accept me, it was like a dream where I forgot everything and only experienced what mattered. When I felt the frenzy take hold of my lover, I stood up and saw the frustration in his eyes.

'Take me,' I said in a demanding whisper.

I salivated profusely into my hand and applied my moisture between my buttocks. I'd tried fingering myself before, and I knew it had to slide right in so it didn't hurt. Even though the size of Derek's sex was imposing compared to what I had been trying to get inside me, I wanted it inside me, I wanted to experience it, I wanted to lose my ignorance. It took us a while to connect and I impaled myself gently on him. He was afraid of hurting me and let me handle everything so as not to rush me. His hands rested on my thighs and I watched him discover my heat. I was burning, sweating, dizzy and the pain was inevitable. But I had to feel Derek in my flesh and I pushed for him to enter me.

After a while everything became bearable and my captor forced me to kiss him as he hobbled into my intimacy. He was gentle, he dared not do anything and yet his instincts drove him to act. His tenderness eventually bewitched me. How beautiful he was in his initiation to sensual practices, how he filled me. My heart followed his rhythm and my joy reverberated through my every fiber. He looked at me rapt in his presence in my bosom and I thought he would weep with hope. He hugged me tightly and rubbed his beard against my cheek before kissing my lips, playing with my tongue as he pushed further into me.

'You are so sweet, how is that possible?'

'I want to love you,' I replied, and nothing could be truer than those words at that very moment.

We continued to flatter each other and he increased the pace of his penetrations. I screamed, I wanted him and he got me high. He warned me that it would not be long before he came and I assured him in my fever that I wanted the same thing. And we ejaculated simultaneously, forgetting each other at the time of an uncovered ecstasy. I smeared my seed into his hair, enjoying his desire to remain in my body even after his release. Then I let myself fall on his chest to hear him ask me in his breathlessness:

'Are you an angel?'

These words brought tears to my eyes and I looked up to see his sincere questioning. We had not known each other for a few hours earlier and yet we were now mingling. It was magical. I smiled at him before finding his mouth to wrap my tongue around his once more. He wrapped his arms around me and I became aware of how tired I was and began to fall asleep.

We woke up with a bang. The door to the house was opened with gunfire and cops entered the room we were in while shining their torches on us. I groaned in discomfort and Derek stood up in the simplest of clothes. I didn't understand anything until I heard my father's voice echoing around the room.

'What have you done to my son?' he asked aggressively.

Derek looked at me as if I were the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him and resignedly wanted to lean in and kiss me. More shots rang out and my lover's body collapsed before my horrified eyes. His chest was pierced with bloody holes.

'My … my angel, life … for me,' said Derek before he passed away.

My head was spinning, I was hopelessly shocked, I didn't know what had just happened. They tried to touch me, but I struggled wildly until they left me alone. Why did Derek's eyes remain fixed and begin to fade? It was as if time had died. No, it wasn't the weather, it was Derek. The realisation hit me hard and I sank irreparably into the catastrophe. I couldn't believe it, it couldn't be true, none of what had happened had really happened. No. I quickly bent over the lifeless body of my lover and cried out at the top of my lungs.

'NO! WHY?! DEREK, WAKE UP! NO!'

The tears blinded me. My heart was a gaping hole. I clung to my lover's body and felt the warmth leave him. I screamed, my soul was being torn apart piece by piece. I wished for nothing more than to go back in time. It couldn't be the present, no, it was impossible, I was living a nightmare. My father wanted to approach me and when I raised my head, I had nothing but dismay to offer him.

'Why did you do this, Dad? He … he suffered so much, his heart was beating again, he was beautiful, he was alive! The sheriff looked at me as if he didn't recognize me anymore, he couldn't understand that he had just killed someone I loved.'

'He was a madman, a murderer Stiles, he abused you!'

'No, it's not true! It was the man he killed who was mad,' I said, sobbing.

I was the only one who knew the truth and no one would ever believe me. I cried and cried and kissed Derek's body even though I knew he was no longer him. And I clung, totally defeated, to the corpse that had been my first lover.

'I had done it Dad, I had done it… I had saved his heart from the clutches of evil!'

He came at me roughly and wished to force me to my feet. I huddled against Derek's bloody body. I wanted to die and I bawled and bawled, burying my face in the sticky chest hair of this man who had offered me all his truth.

'GET OFF ME, DON'T TOUCH ME! God, Derek … we were making love. WAKE UP! No way, no way, no way, NO... DEREK!'

I don't know what happened next, I have no memory of it. I only know that I am not myself since Derek Hale died in my arms. I don't talk anymore. What's the point? My father doesn't understand. I've told him the truth, but he doesn't believe me. He looks at me like I'm crazy like I'm missing boxes. Only the version where he is a hero who saves me from a psychopath reassures him. I don't miss boxes, dad, I lost my lover when I had just met him. Is that so hard to grasp? Fucking hell!

At the cremation of the last member of the Hale line, I was the only one there to pay my respects, to mourn his sad life. I don't know why I love him so much, despite his passing. I don't know why I miss him so much when I only knew him for twelve hours. I know that everything happened as he planned, but did he know that we would end up exchanging love? I doubt it. I have severe depression from post-traumatic shock, or so the psychology professionals say. But it's not my head that's suffering, it's my soul and they don't understand that.

Derek, I'm only alive because you asked me to be. You taught me that it's okay to fall in love with a stranger. You taught me that the truth is painful, that saying it out loud hurts, but that it's also liberating. Before you fell into nothingness, you called me your angel. I had this role in your life, I became a caress for you and that is the only thing that comforts me, the only thing that matters. I managed to offer you the ephemeral pleasure of being alive, despite all the misfortunes that had destroyed you. I wish I could have continued to make love to you, to bring back smiles on your sad face.

Why does everyone cling to appearances? Why do journalists make you a monster when you were a tainted innocent? On the news, Peter became a victim with a glow, when his claws were as sharp as vicious blades. Why does no one want to hear me and turn what I know into a rant? Could I laugh like I used to? A part of me wishes to remain for eternity in the ruins of the manor, wrapped in the warmth of this man who gave me the right to love him. Derek, I will never forget you.

---

The END