Distance [Derek Hale]

Chapter Eleven

Staring at the laptop screen in front of her, she wiped at her eyes trying to ignore the tired feeling which was burning them. She didn't know what she was supposed to be doing anymore. All the words were blurred and dotting around the page and whilst she knew she should be going to sleep she also knew that she did not want to. If she went to sleep then it would only result in the nightmares of the beast and the sight of werewolves.

She'd contemplated what had happened to Paige. They said it was an animal attack but she now knew that all animal attacks were simply the supernatural.

It had been three weeks since she watched the man she'd come to call her best friend and even come to love, kill someone who wasn't even technically a someone and also act like a monster she'd only read about in books or seen in movies. She felt so stupid. Ever since she'd been introduced to the supernatural world Stiles had constantly been telling her stories or sharing experiences they'd had with Scott, but she found herself not caring about any of it. She didn't want to hear about how Scott had to hide his love for Allison so that he wouldn't be killed by a hunter.

She hadn't done very well, that was safe to say. It had started with her misery drinking in the first week and by the second week, she was having one night stands and drunken make-outs with anyone who she could. There was the blonde woman who wasn't a very good kisser, the man who dug around into her shirt like he was reaching into a box of popcorn at the movies, the man who seemed to be a lot older than he said he was but when she was drunk she didn't notice, the woman who was probably the best she'd ever had in Beacon Hills and finally the woman whose room had been filled with the most extraordinary of paintings. There were more make-out sessions whilst drunk but she had no recollection of them. None of them felt right though.

She hadn't seen Derek since.

"Jesus, I need to get out," she muttered to herself. She couldn't see anything.

Pushing herself out of her seat, she brushed her hands over her hair to get it out of her face before grabbing onto her coat. The moment she stepped out of her bedroom it felt like she was swimming in darkness and her body couldn't break it for air. Creeping down the stairs, she bit her lip and grabbed onto the bannister to prevent herself from falling.

She'd just gotten to the back door when a voice called out, "where do you think you're going?" She jumped whirling around with a short scream to look at her dad who was stood with his own coat on.

"Jesus! That was scary, don't do that!" She cried out before she realised why he was stood there and what she was doing and what he had said. Clearing her throat, she stood up taller crossing her arms to mimic his position, "I could ask you the same question," she countered her voice inherently strained and weak.

"I'm going to work. Someone's gone missing from the hospi-" he cut himself off as he realised what was happening, "are you trying to parent the parent?" He asked, and she shifted her head as she thought about it.

"Is it working?"

"Not one bit. Go back to your room young lady," he ordered pointing back to it.

"Wha-dad?! I'm twenty-one, I can go out at ten at night if I want to," she said her eyes filled with defiance.

"It's four in the morning," he corrected and she froze; her defiance leaving her.

"F-four... in the...oh my god..." she muttered bringing her hand up to her head. How long had she been writing for? Had she actually wrote anything anyway?

"Mal," he began and her shoulders deflated as she began to stomp towards her room.

"Back to bed, I know...." she droned.