Wounded and Flawless

Pt. III: Madness in great ones must not unwatched go

His dad didn't say goodbye before he left. Stiles was fine with that. He went through his morning routine, steadfastly not thinking about the previous night's events. After showering, he stepped on the scale. Sure, he'd lost the two pounds. And another three. Down to 105 lbs, he was fragile looking.

Stiles ate a whole package of Oreos on the couch after throwing on a hoodie. Four minutes later, the cookies were in the pipes. Being carried away to dump in the Pacific. He dry swallowed two Adderall, replacing the food his body had been robbed of. He left the house with twenty minutes until school started and zero motivation. The fifteen minute trip became seven and a half.

He had to stop by the locker room before first hour. Stiles belatedly realized his student ID had fallen out of his bag when Derek retrieved it days before. The 'awesome' picture of him didn't need to be seen by anyone. He stood by the door and listened for anyone who might've been in there.

Six seconds passed with no noise.

Satisfied he was alone, Stiles crouched down to retrieve the card. While in the process of standing up, something powerful hit the back of his head. He fell forward and scarcely avoided busting out his front teeth on the side of the locker.

The teen righted himself and looked up at what had struck his head. Jackson stood over him. Hands curled into fists by his sides. The back of his skull was on fire.

"You fucking snitch."

Stiles scooted sideways and hurriedly stood up. Jackson had the crazed look of a wild animal.

"What?" Very articulate. Nice going, man.

"Stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about. You're a snitch, you told the counsellor 'I've been harassing you'."

"Dude, seriously, I didn't tell anyone." And then it occurred to him: Derek. All the teachers had been talking with him and he had been communicating with the counsellor. Fuck.

"They suspended me because of what you said. They have eye witness accounts and the 'victims' have stepped forward. I'm not even supposed to be here." Jackson walked closer and in one fluid motion, punched Stiles across the jaw.

"My parents are so pissed at me. Because of you." He stumbled and Stiles' back hit another set of lockers. Jackson grabbed a fist full of Stiles' t-shirt and punched him again. He saw a flash of white and closed his eyes, weakly throwing up both arms to protect himself. They'd gone to the same preschool and Stiles could confidently say the guy had been a douche bag all of his life. During nap time, when the teacher wasn't looking, he used to slap Stiles, causing him to cry out. He would then get in trouble for waking everyone up. Never once did the teacher ask why he would scream. It was always 'go to the corner'. What a twat. Jackson can hit a lot harder now.

The fourth landed on his stomach. He braced himself for the fifth. It never came. His eyes were screwed shut. The taste of blood danced across his tongue. One hand was braced against the locker.

"Stiles? Are you OK?" He opened his eyes slightly. Derek placed a hand on his shoulder. To steady him. Or maybe ground him. Try to get him back to the BHHS locker room.

"Yeah, um, yeah. I just need to sit down for a sec." He clumsily sat on the bench to the side of him.

"Do I need to call the nurse?"

"And get my ass kicked again for being a bitch about a few punches? No, thank you." His head was almost between his knees, trying to will the nausea away. He couldn't see Derek's expression.