Heartbeat // A Derek Hale Love Story (Teen Wolf)

Run

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

I counted the still slow, steady beats of my heart in my head as I ran: calculating.

I, as well as most everyone in my family, had a heart condition, known as bradycardia, which meant my heart beat slower than that of an average human.

Normal heart rates ranged from sixty to one hundred beats per minute at rest.

My average heartbeat was thirty-five beats per minute.

It wasn't slow enough to cause real problems, but it definitely was noticeable.

Due to this, I didn't really have much say in the matter of whether or not I should exercise, even if it meant going out at dusk for a run.

As a girl, or a woman, a person of the female gender, the idea that I shouldn't go out alone was drilled into my head since forever.

I was not a person who liked being told what to do, but I wouldn't say so out loud.

In any case, because of this rebellion, combined with years of training in martial arts, I found myself out running as the sun went down and the moon came up.

Despite the fact that I had been officially living in the town of Beacon Hills for less than forty-eight hours, I decided running would be a good option for exercise.

This way, I could explore a little more of the land surrounding my own new property.

I'd been to Beacon Hills plenty of times before but the only places I knew well, were the land that was now mine, formerly my late grandfather's, and Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski's respective houses.

When I was little, Dad got a job here, as the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital had a need for a general surgeon with a specialty in oncology at the time.

Scott's mom was a chief nurse at the hospital presently, and that was how they became friends. Melissa always said my dad was 'the only surgeon at Beacon Hills Memorial who treated her like a person instead of a slave'.

Apparently, most surgeons weren't kind.

I definitely could believe it: most were narcissistic perfectionists to put it bluntly. They were the rulers of the hospital at which they worked and whatever they said, went. Other than Melissa and a few others, my dad didn't really have many friends from work.

Melissa was probably his best work-friend, and since Scott was only a few years younger than me, it made sense to spend time together.

How I knew Stiles was another story.

As I continued to run, trying to pick up my pace, my heart picked up it's pace too, but only just.

By the time I came across a path into the woods, hardly worn in at all, covered in fallen leaves pressed deeper into the ground than others around them, my pulse was up by five more beats.

Though my chest stung when I breathed, there was something about running that was extremely appealing to me.

I can, and I will.

That was an idea that often went through my head when I was doing anything, be it sparring with someone, riding my horse Ophelia, or climbing to the top of a building.

The latter was only illegal or frowned upon, if I got caught.

As of yet, I had not.

I made my way down said wooded path, keeping my eyes open. Ahead of me, was an old maple tree, the branches of which were thick and long, stretching up toward the darkening sky.