When I get home from school my dad isn't here yet, hinting at a chance I might actually see him sober for once.
I decide to get on with homework but then reconsider as I'd much rather be on Facebook.

I scroll through lazily, scanning the page quickly. Until something catches my eye. My heart beat quickens slightly and I feel my head get hot.

You know when you see something you really didn't need to see? But you can't unsee it because you already saw it.

Scott McCall is in a relationship with Malia Tate.

Scott and Malia?! My eyes prick with tears. I don't know why, but I thought we had something. I wasn't sure what it was, but it was something.

"Stiles! Get your ass down here!" I hear an angry voice yell; my dad. I hear his shut the door behind him and walk through the house.

Still having no clue as to what state he could be in I tip toe cautiously down the stairs.

"Uh, hey dad." I say, gulping. He turns to face me but the immediate look of disgust on his face tells me he's wasted.

"I was hoping you'd be out." He snarls at me, his arms intimidatingly folded across his chest. My lips quivers slightly and my eyebrows furrow.

"I was about to-"

"I don't care! Now get out!" He yells, pushing me in the chest, making me slam back into the wall and hitting my head, hard. I hiss in pain, holding my hand up to the back of my head. My fingers touch a warm wet substance all over my hair; blood.

"What?" Asks my dad, his mouth hanging open expectantly. "You're afraid of a little blood? You coward!" He shouts, before erupting in a wicked cackle. I back away into the hall, and leave him there with his whiskey. When I get the chance, I scamper up the stairs and into my bedroom. Then I'm packing. I've got my bag, and I'm rushing around my room grabbing my clothes. Every so often, though, I wince in pain at the sharp stabs in the back of my head, which is still bleeding.

My room looks bare when I've packed everything I need into my suitcase. I take one last look around before opening my window. After gently throwing my suitcase out and onto the grass, I climb out too with an extra bag just in my hand. I don't even have anywhere to go.

I sneak past the windows and to my jeep, luggage in hand and drive away as quickly as possible. But then I remember the Facebook post I saw earlier. I can't really stay with Scott. Suddenly someone else pops into my mind, and I make an immediate left onto his street. I have no idea if he'll even take me in. After pulling up to his street, I take a few deep breaths before climbing out and getting my bags out of the trunk. I take the elevator of the building up to the top floor; Derek's loft.

The door opens after a few knocks, and Derek just stands there and stares at me. Disbelief? Annoyance? He's unreadable.

"What?" He asks, in a tone implying he is very annoyed. I take a few breathes in but before I can speak he speaks again.

"Wait, are you okay? I can smell a load of gross anxiety smells. Panic," he sniffs again, "pain." He says finally.

I shift my weight from foot to the other, awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," I speak quietly, my voice croaky- which surprises him, I think he was expecting something sarcastic, "I didn't have anywhere else to go..." I whisper, my voice breaking. He ushers me into the house and shuts the doors behind me.

"Stiles, what happened?" He asks slowly, crouching down to my height level, his eyes searching my face.

"I-I..." I don't know.

"It's okay. You can tell me." His voice softens significantly as he speaks in a calm tone.

"Wait, you do know about me, don't you?" I check, raising an eyebrow at him. He nods.

"Your anxiety and everything? Of course." He says knowingly.

"I-I couldn't stay there anymore, Derek. Not with him. I couldn't." I say, holing my hand up to the back of my head and retracting blood again. Derek's eyes go wide.

"Stiles, what happened?!" He asked.

"He told me to get out, then he... He did this." I whisper.

"Who told you? Who is he?" He asks quickly, his hand on my head over the wound.

I must've been concussed or bleeding for a really time because suddenly everything goes dark.

***
I wake up in a daze and my head feels fuzzy. I replay the nights events in my mind; my dad smashed my head on a wall, he made me leave, and I came to Derek's. Derek. I slowly open my eyes and scan my surroundings- I'm lying on the couch and see Derek sat in the chair opposite me. I wince in pain as I try to sit up.

"Hey. You're up..." Says Derek softly. I've never heard his voice so kind before.

"Hi." I hiss, holding my hand to the back of my head, where my hair is now hard with dry blood caked all over it.

"Don't touch it." Instructs Derek, and I move my hand back down to my lap.

I sigh. "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I'll go-"

"No, it's okay. You can stay here for as long you need. As long as you tell me exactly why you're staying here." Says Derek quietly, his voice still soft.

I sigh again, and feel my breath shake slightly. "I- I don't know. I didn't have anywhere to go after my dad told me to get out-"

"Wait. That was your dad? He did this to you?" Asks Derek in disbelief. I look away but nod.

"Anyway, I couldn't go to Scott's. There- there's this girl. I kinda liked her, I guess. We met at Eichen-"

"Eichen? As in the asylum?"

"Yeah. I go to some support group there for people with 'issues'." I tell him, air quoting around the last word.

"Well, she helped me. Calmed me down when I was having a panic attack at school today, actually." I speak casually, not meeting Derek's gaze. He's leant forward, resting his chin in his hand with his elbow on his knee.

"And...?" Urges Derek.

"And I thought we had something. Obviously not. She's dating Scott, now." I say frustratedly. Derek frowns.

"Huh." Derek sighs, slowly standing up.
"How's your head feeling?" He asks, resting a hand on my shoulder. For some reason it sends a chill down my spine.

"Like its been smashed in with a hammer." I answer, wincing again when reach up and I touch it.

"I'll go get you some painkillers." He says, stretching out his arms before leaving the room. Shit. I left all my meds at home.