Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Eighteen

"Y/n, wake up. Please, please wake up," I heard as I sat up slowly. I immediately whimpered in pain, falling back onto the warm cushioning. I recognized the voice to be Stiles. We were driving, and it was still dark.

"St-Stiles?" I muttered, my eyes heavy. He let out a breath of relief. He used his free hand and placed it on my cheek. I groggily leaned into it.

"I gotta get you to a hospital-"

"No! No way! My mom's working tonight!" I said, snapping awake. I suddenly became aware of the awkward angle my shoulder was at, and the growing pain I was experiencing. I grit my teeth as we pulled into a little forested place. I leaned back a little to avoid being seen as Stiles got out. He looked around frantically, and I realized he was looking for his Dad. A flash of everything that happened replayed in my mind. Scott being incredibly heartless and mean, him getting loose, him throwing me into a whole wall. I vaguely remember Stiles carrying me out to his Jeep.

Scott's words flashed through my brain. "And you, poor you. Always cleaning up the mess, always there as emotional support. You'll never be enough. You'll never be more." My brain was twisted at this point, as hearing those words come out of my brother's mouth hurt more than words can describe. Maybe they weren't wrong, and maybe that's what hurt so much. Stiles got back in the car several minutes later, I was growing uncomfortable and worse and worse in pain. I grabbed his jacket with my one good hand. I looked up at him, sweat collecting along my eyebrows.

"Stiles, I need- I need you to put my shoulder back in place," I begged. His eyes widened, as we drove away. My head lolled back and I noticed a familiar car parked, with two people watching us. "Hey! That-those... are..." and I slipped back out of consciousness.

"Well, what do we do?"

"How am I supposed to know? She told me to put it back in place."

"Should we do it while she's sleeping?"

"She doesn't look good." I groaned and I heard several people shout in surprise. I wake up to see Derek, Stiles and Scott standing around me. I'm laying on the floor in the living room. I look over at my shoulder and gag from the pain but also from how gross it looks. Scott was pacing around the room, and Stiles immediately knelt next to me.

"Y/n, y/n! Can you hear me?" He said looking at me with concern. I nodded lightly, slowly blinking. Derek crouched down on the side by my shoulder. I looked at Stiles and grabbed his hand. My eyes flashed with desperation.

"Stiles... please, fix it," I begged looking at my shoulder. He looked at Derek, and nodded. Scott knelt in front of me, at my feet. I didn't meet his gaze. Derek tilted my chin towards him. I smiled a little in his direction. "If it isn't... the fugitive..." I breathed slowly. He rolled his eyes. He placed a foot under my armpit. Stiles pushed my hair back out of my face, leaning over so I could see him hanging over me.

"Y/n, this is going to hurt. A lot," he warned. I nodded, thinking it couldn't be worse than what I was feeling now. Scott held my legs, down, and Stiles took my hand, holding it with both of his own. He nodded at Derek again.

"Alright, I'm going to bring your arm out," he said as he brought my arm straight out, slowly. I let out a whimper of pain, and few tears slipped from my face. Derek looked at me for a second. "I'm sorry, Y/n," he apologized and pulled my arm towards him firmly. I heard a soft crack, and I let out a scream in pain. My body was shaking with adrenaline, and I was gripping Stiles' hand tight. I began hyperventilating, and Stiles dragged me into his lap.