The Sicilian Defence [Derek Hale]

Chapter Twenty-Six

Matt was dead.

A weight was on my heart which brought an ache into my face. The last time I'd felt like this was when my parents died. That time it lasted for about a year. So far it had only lasted a couple of weeks. A couple of weeks which were complete agony, and yet none of it compared to the pain Matt must have felt. Did we let him down? We didn't save him at the party, we didn't save him at all. Granted he was a murderous psychopath, but then trauma does things to people that no-one else can understand.

And I was scared.

"You lost."

Glancing up at Harry who was sat opposite me, I frowned before looking down at the board in front of me. I had lost. How had I lost? I hadn't lost since I was thirteen. Nodding, I plastered a smile on my face looking up to him, "congratulations, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Don't feel too bad about your loss," he mocked and I released a soft laugh as I headed closer to the door.

"I'm sure I won't."

A burning sensation grew in my eyes as I walked through the building, although I didn't start my way home yet. I couldn't. I could barely move and I could barely breathe.

Pushing into the bathroom, I quickly ran into one of the stalls locking the door behind me releasing a breath as I did. But with the breath came the tears. I brought my arm up to my mouth in hopes of smothering the sobs and it was working for the most part. It just made it harder to remember how to breathe.

Everything was hot and everything hurt, my mind was like a thousand things going on all at once and I couldn't even understand it.

"All that anger..." the voice whispered, but there was no-one in front of me, "that pathetic anger," I knew these words. I couldn't listen to these words. Dragging my hands to my head I tried to ignore them all as the needle of anger began to invade my mind. I just wanted it to end. For it to all go away. "You should have let it consume you. You should let it kill you."

Then there was that sickening laugh. The sickening Scottish laugh which just destroyed everything. Matt's death was on us. We were supposed to help him. We were trying so desperately to help everyone else, so why weren't we helping him? Why were we all so pathetic and useless as we froze and watching him drown... and now he was dead. "you're so pathetic you can't even control your own body. Completely at the mercy of werewolves."

"You are nothing but a disappointment. A grand master at chess... you couldn't even control your own mind how are you to control a board?"

Sliding down against the door until I was sat on the floor, I brought my hand over my mouth as the tears continued. Was this how life was supposed to be from now on?

"Let it consume you."

"God! Fucking dammit!" The scream fell from my lips before I could even think about it and my fist slammed into the wall. Whilst it brought a temporary peace, it was nothing to help as the three second break of the mental pain was replaced by physical. None of this would have happened if I'd stayed in Scotland.

Something lodged itself in the back of my throat and my body's reaction was to cough to get it out. It was impossible. Everything was stuck. Everything was frozen. And then something wet touched my hand. Pulling my the quivering limb back, my eyes settled on the spots of black bile which were littered on it. The breath escaped my lips as I pushed myself back up to my feet. Ignoring the grief, I stumbled out to the sink quickly washing it off. Although with each touch on my hand a physical pain shot through it.

Pressing my hands down onto the sinks, I closed my eyes in hopes of reclaiming some form of control. This was tiring. This was tiring and in comparison to what the supernatural world was like this was probably nothing. It was probably nothing and yet it was always going to be like this. It was going to be exhausting.