Every tear's a waterfall, every scar's a vile reminder

Chapter 7

Derek looked up to stiles, seeing him with watery eyes and clenched fists, however he didn't say anything.

"Thanks for letting me know" he mumbled, agitation and anger clear in his voice, however derek knew it was not aimed at him.

"Stiles, I don't even know how to talk about this, because I've never been something even remotely similar in my life, however all I can say is that you've almost died once now and I promise you that doesn't need to happen again. You've already proved how emotionally and physically strong you are by pulling through this. I also promise you that man will never bother you again. You will be referred to a psychiatrist where you can talk about all these things confidentially, however stiles if you want to make a recovery food is a necessity. It not only helps with your physical health it also helps with your mental health. I'm not trying to lecture you here, because I can imagine how patronising and agitating it must be to have someone tell you what to do when they have never experience it themselves. However, stiles, body dysmorphia is a terrible terrible thing and I know that it makes people see awe full things in the mirror, I also know that just by telling you your to skinny isn't going to do anything. But please, im going to be here to help you and so is everyone else. Please just think of this as a fresh start, one that you have control of, one where you have power. Please do not let anybody else dictate your life of your life styles just by the way they act or speak to you."

Stiles looked towards derek, eyes wide and lost for words.

"mirrors... i fucking hate mirrors" stiles uttered with disgust.

"Stiles, I assure you, you have no reason to" derek let slip and stiles eyes shot up to derek once more. Stiles was clearly trying to figure out what that meant, his eyes were flicking as if the dogs in his brain were working together to piece together a meaning for what derek had said.

Derek cleared his throat and stood, not wanting to make stiles even more uncomfortable or overwhelmed.

"Anyway I'm going home for the night, however I promise you I will be back early tomorrow morning and we can talk some more then okay?"

"Yeah that's fine, again thank you" stiles muttered as he rolled under the sheets again, trying to get comfortable and get to sleep.
As derek made his way towards the door, he flicked off the lights and released a big sigh once he had closed the door behind him. He had known stiles only two days and already the boy was all he could think about, for so many different reasons.

Derek made his way out into the cold air and pulled his leather jacket around his mid section, trying to block the wind. He approached his car and unlocked it, sliding into the sleek black camero and turning the key.

As he pulled out of the staff drive way, he began on his short trip home, stiles the only thing on his mind.

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Derek pulled open the loft door and practically crawled up the stairs to his bedroom. He knew he needed to go for a shower but decided that could wait until morning as he shucked off the majority of his clothes and flopped onto the bed, not bothering to get into it due to the radiating heat from his bedroom and the lack of energy. He slowly began to fade, letting sleep take him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Derek stood in front of the house, confused and unaware. As he was about to turn around and leave to go home, he heard a blood curdling scream from the depths of the house. He was immediately on alert, not pausing to assess the dangers he ran into the house, kicking open the front door.

He was met with doors. A narrow corridor of many doors.

Curiousity got the best of him and he cautiously made his way towards the first. He grabbed the door knob of the first one and paused to listen to the inside of the room. He heard what he thought to be a child and an adults voice.

He pushed open the door. He was met with the sight of a young boy sitting in a chair next to a woman. A woman in a hospital bed who looked seriously ill. The young boy was chattering away to who derek presumed to be his mother, who was giving the best response she could but was clearly struggling. This carried on for a few minutes, until the mother's eyes began to shut gently and she reached out to the little boy who must have only been around 8 years old. She gripped hand onto his hand and struggled to open her eyes. The young boy paused his talking, utterly confused and paused to listen to the woman ho was one trying to speak.

"I love you baby" she whispered and as the boy went to say it back, her eyes closed and hand loosened around his. He shouted to her, however her heart beat began to slow. The young boy began panicking, pressing the panic button next to her bed multiple times however her heart monitor flatlined. The boy broke into a heap on the floor as th sheriff and a group of doctors burst through the room. The sheriff immediately picked up the boy, however the boy stared into the sheriffs eyes and muttered.

"She died.she died and you weren't here." And it faded to black.

Derek turned around and slammed the door behind him, heart beating fast and breath shortening.

He looked towards the door opposite. He tried to stop his body from walking towards the door, however he belt as if he were being dragged along, unable to stop it. He reached the door and tried to stop himself, so badly however the door flung open and Derek was met with the sight of the same boy, however older this time, most likely around the age of about 14. He was laying on the floor, covered in mud and a backpack had been tossed aside as two boys, roughly the same age approached him.

They knelt beside him, and as one grabbed him by the collar, raising his first to punch him in the face the other got up close in his face.

"Go on faggot, I dare you to scream" the boy muttered and the boy laying on the floor made no noise as the fist that had been prepared slammed down into his face, crunching against his nose, definitely breaking it. However the boy didn't make a noise. One of the boys kicked him in the chest, right in the solar plexus, winding the boy and undoubtedly causing mass amounts of pain, however he didn't make a single noise. He lay there taking it.

As the other boy went to hit him, a teacher emerged from around the corner, and instead of kicking him, the boy leaned in.

"Maybe if you weren't a fat, ugly, disgusting gay boy then we wouldn't have to do this to you. You do this to yourself stiles" he cackled into his ear and stood up.

Stiles. He lay curled up on the floor, with silent tears streaming down his face and bruises blossoming across his face as a teacher sprinted towards him.

The door slammed in dereks face and he was instantly pulled to the next as this one slammed open more forcefully, revealing a shirtless 15 year old stiles stood infront of a mirror, eyes full of tears and and a handful of blades.

He stared towards his boney abdomen in disgust, imaging fat and excess weight that really wasn't there. He grabbed one of the blades that had been clenches in his first, cutting up the inside of his palm. He took it to him abdomen and let a single tear escape his tired eyes as he flicked his wrist, creating a long gash across his rib cage.

Clearly this wasn't enough, as he did it again and again, cutting and cutting until his stomach was a mess of blood and there was no room left to cut. Only then did he slow his pace. Staring at his reflection once again his face filled with anger.

"You ugly, obese, disgusting freak" he spat to himself in the mirror. This time the door didn't shut, it got pulled off its hinges as derek was flung to the next door that was already open and waiting.

This looked present time, with stiles sitting in a bathtub with a small silky bad placed in his hand. He took one, the biggest looking one and simply began mutilating his body, tearing that beautiful porcelain skin to pieces. As his cuts became deeper and more angry, his tears became more present, constantly streaming down his face. Derek felt his own tears matching stiles' and he wanted nothing more than to climb into the room and pull the boy from the tub, however his body was rigid, as if he was being forced into watching this. It was torture. He tried calling out, however his voice was muted.

Stiles became slower and dropped the blade, collapsing into the bathtub and a wicked smile took place over his lips and the blood seeped from his wounds into the bath water.
Derek collapsed to the floor, unable to cross the door threshold. He couldn't breathe as he watched stiles bleed out, all alone in an empty house.