"Someone broke into your house," is what he tells me. "They didn't take anything, but they did knock you around a bit. Stiles happened to be arriving home at the time and heard the commotion. He came over to help. Stiles didn't get a good look at the guy – he ran as soon as Stiles came in with his bat – and then Stiles called EMS."
I stare at Sheriff Stilinski blankly. "That's the story?" I ask, unable to keep my tone from sounding cynical. "That's what you told everybody?"
He sighs, blue eyes exhausted. "What else am I supposed to do?" He throws out his hands slightly, the little notepad in his hand flipping shut. "He's my son."
"He attacked me." I spit, leaning forward as much as I can in the hospital bed. "He threw me around and said these... things..."
"That wasn't Stiles." Sheriff Stilinski insists.
My jaw drops. "How can you even say that? You know it was Stiles. You know it. Honestly, Sheriff, I thought you were a man of integrity. I guess I was wrong."
"You don't understand, Y/N," he pleads. "It really wasn't him."
I grit my teeth. "He bit me. I guarantee you'll be able to match up his dental records with the mark on my shoulder."
Sheriff Stilinski runs a hand down his face. "You're not listening to me. It wasn't Stiles. Yes, it was Stiles' body, but it wasn't Stiles."
I glare at him, crossing my arms. "Are you making fun of me or something?" I snap. "Are you trying to tell me that Stiles was possessed? Are you serious right now?"
"Yes!" I nearly jump out of my skin when he gestures toward me. "That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you! Stiles was possessed."
I grimace, throat sore from all the talking after being nearly strangled not too long ago. "Sheriff, look, I know that's probably what you want to tell yourself. I don't want to believe that Stiles did this to me either. But it was Stiles, and he did do this to me. We can't change that."
Sheriff Stilinski shakes his head firmly, lips pressed together in a tight line. "You're wrong," he says. Then he flips open the notepad again. "I can understand you not remembering certain elements of the initial break-in due to your head trauma, but I need you to try and describe the man who attacked you as well as you can."
"You're still going with this?" I nearly scream from frustration. "Are you crazy?"
Nurse McCall pokes her head in. "Knock knock," she says. "Just wanted to check on you, Y/N. How are you feeling?" She comes to stand beside my bed. Her eyes widen when she examines the machines that are hooked up to me. "Your blood pressure is-"
"She's just a little upset. I'm trying to get information about the night everything happened." Sheriff Stilinski reassures her.
"Oh, of course." She nods her understanding.
"A little upset?" I practically shriek. I turn to Nurse McCall desperately. "He wants me to lie! Everything – the whole story about what happened, all of it – it's a lie! Stiles did this to me, and he can't face facts!"
Nurse McCall's eyes widen at my outburst. I feel myself calm slightly, glad I got that off my chest. Now hopefully she'll be able to tell whoever it is she needs to tell and get Sheriff Stilinski suspended or something. At least taken off my case. I can understand not wanting to have to go against his son, but this is ridiculous.
"Y/N, honey," she starts, biting her lip. "Stiles didn't do this to you."
I just stare at her.
"You hit your head a few times, so it's natural that your memory is a little fuzzy." She gives me an encouraging smile. I forgot that she's Scott's mother. Of course she's going to side with Sheriff Stilinski. Her son is best friends with Stiles.
"My memory is perfectly fine." I say coolly. "I remember everything."
"Excellent!" Sheriff Stilinski clicks his pen. "How about we start with a basic description of our suspect?"
"Tall. Thin. Pale. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Freckles."
"Right," Sheriff Stilinski's pen flies across the page. "Short. Stocky. Tanned. Light hair. Blue eyes. Clear skin." He gives me a tight smile. "Got it."
I groan.
Nurse McCall checks my vitals while Sheriff Stilinski asks me a few more questions. Eventually I get fed up with him twisting my words around, so when he asks the last question, I say, "I'm sure you already know my answer."
"Right," he says flatly. He doesn't seem to like this at all.
"Is that all for the interview, Sheriff?" Nurse McCall asks. "Y/N has a few visitors in the waiting room."
I sigh and lean my head back against the pillows. I have a sneaking suspicion that the visitor is Mom. She comes by at least four times a day to check on me. I bite my lip. Maybe I can tell her about Sheriff Stilinski and Nurse McCall and Stiles and all of this...
"We're finished here," he confirms. He rises and stretches, popping his back. "I'm getting too old for this."
"Well maybe you won't be doing 'this' for much longer." I spit the words before I can stop myself. "I'm going to tell my mother about-"
"Don't you breathe a word of this to her." Sheriff Stilinski warns. There's something icy in his tone that stops me faster than the strange black figure had a few nights ago. And for some reason, I find myself swallowing hard and nodding, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes.
Sheriff Stilinski lets out a sigh as he stares at me. Then he and Nurse McCall walk out the door, murmuring to one another. I sit and wait with my arms crossed.
The door slowly opens. "Hey Y/N," Scott says casually. He gives me a small smile.
"Scott?" I push myself into a better sitting position. "What are you doing here-" I stop. It's like the breath has been knocked out of me.
Two light brown eyes peer over Scott's shoulder cautiously, fixing me with an almost fearful look.
I hear my heart rate monitor sky-rocket in three seconds.
"Easy," Scott says. He steps into the room, Stiles close behind him. "We just want to talk."
"Keep him away from me." The words sound foreign as I gasp them out, no louder than a faint, terrified whisper.
"He's not going to hurt you." Scott takes another careful step. "He never did hurt you. Trust me, okay?"
I shake my head, the waterworks finally spilling over. "Get him away, Scott."
"Y/N, listen to me-"
"I don't want him to come near me." I beg. "Get him out of here, Scott." I'm full on sobbing now, pressed against the farthest side of my bed, shaking hard.
"You don't understand-"
"Y/N."
Just hearing Stiles say my name, hearing his voice form the word, seeing his lips shape it sends me into hysterics. I scream, praying that someone with some sense and no strange devotion to covering Stiles Stilinski's ass will hear me and come help – well, I scream as best as I can with a sore throat and raspy-ish voice.
"Y/N, please..." Stiles continues. His jaw trembles. I can see his eyes sparkle as they fill with tears. "Please don't be scared of me."
You should be scared. The words ring in my ears. My heart is slamming against my chest. My shoulder burns in a circular crescent. I scream again and again and again but no one comes. My throat burns. My mouth is dry.
Scott is by my bedside now. Stiles is right behind him. His palms are raised in surrender, eyes innocent and wide and beautiful as ever. It feels like a knife plunges through my chest.
Without thinking about the consequences, I rip off the surgical tape and yank my IV out. I scream from the pain this time.
"Woah, Y/N, what are you doing? Calm down! Everything's okay!" Scott rambles.
I don't listen. All I can hear is a sick sort of chuckle; all I can see are rimmed eyes and a wide, grinning mouth.
My unsteady feet hit the tile floor. I'm running. I burst through the doors and dash down the hallway, ignoring the calls behind me from Scott and Stiles. Everything blurs with my tears and stings my eyes.
Wouldn't you know it, Nurse McCall is the only hospital staff on my floor. She's standing at the elevator beside Sheriff Stilinski. They heard me yelling for help the entire time and didn't do anything.
I duck my head and prepare to charge straight past them into the elevator, but arms are around my waist. Memories rush through my head as the blood from my wrist trickles onto my hospital gown; I can picture the Stiles who attacked me licking it off and cooing about how sweet my anguish tastes.
"Y/N, take it easy!" Scott hollers in my ear, jostling me slightly as I fight in his grasp. "It's me! No one is going to hurt you!"
It's like I can't hear him. All I can think is that I need to get as far away from Stiles as possible.
"Set her down, Scott. She's not going anywhere." Sheriff Stilinski says firmly.
Slowly, Scott lets my feet touch the floor. Immediately I scramble away from him, pressing my back against the closed elevator doors. All four of them stare at me, taking in the tears tracing my cheeks and jumping shoulders.
I turn to Nurse McCall in a last ditch effort. "Please don't let him touch me," I cry. "Please don't let him near me. Please, please, please."
"Okay," she promises. "Stiles will keep his distance."
"But-" Scott pipes up. Nurse McCall cut him off with a glare.
Then she turns back to me. "Let's get you back to your room, okay? You're doing much better than I originally thought. I didn't think you'd be mobile yet with that bruising on your back. You might be going home sooner."
"Bruising on her back?" Sheriff Stilinski echoes as Nurse McCall pulls me to her side. I'm pressed between her scrub-clad body and the wall. Oddly, I feel secure. Although she seems to think Stiles is innocent, at least she can see that I don't want to be near him and respects that. "I don't remember reading that in her injury report."
Nurse McCall pushes my hair off my shoulder. "Severe bruising on the back, head, hips, biceps, throat, and thighs. A few blood vessels busted in the eyes. Bite marks on the shoulder and neck. Scratches on the stomach and upper chest."
They stand in stunned silence. I can't bring myself to look at Stiles, but out of the corner of my eye I can see him sway like he's about to pass out. "God," he whispers. "What did Void do?"
I don't have a chance to ask who this 'Void' is or why he's the one they're accusing of doing this to me. Nurse McCall has my unbruised bicep in a firm grasp and is towing me down the hall.
She helps me back into bed. I look away when she puts the IV in, flinching at the discomfort. "Let's try not to rip this out anymore, Wonder Woman." She smiles at me before brushing my hair back. "I'm so sorry about all of this, Y/N."
I just nod. My throat hurts too much to say anything.
"You need to get some sleep." She tells me, pulling the scratchy sheets up to my chest.
I agree with her, but when she leaves, I find myself unable to shut my eyes. Every time I do, my chest feels tight as my heart begins to skip, worried that Stiles might come in or... Void... might come back. Should I even believe that this 'Void' even did this? Is that falling for their trap?
When Nurse McCall comes back in the check on me, she grimaces. "Come on, Y/N; you really need rest." She brings a bag of clear liquid and hooks it up to my IV. "This ought to help."
"I-I don't want to sleep." I feebly try to fight against the medication. "I don't want him to... to..." My eyes already feel extremely heavy; my muscles relax without any hesitation.
"Y/N, honey, listen to me very carefully." Her serious brown eyes are unwavering. "I know you don't trust Stiles right now, but he and Scott are right outside this room. They're not going to let that thing hurt you again, okay?"
"The thing..." I whisper. I can feel my heart slowing. I blink slowly...
She's gone. The windows are dark, although I could've sworn it was daylight two seconds ago. Now it seems like it's the wee morning hours. The too-bright fluorescents above me have gone out.
The machine beside me has stopped chirping. I crane my neck to see that it's not even there.
"Y/N..."
I lurch up, head on a distressed swivel as I examine the empty room. I know for a fact that I heard him... it... Void... whatever. I know I did.
A light chuckle by my ear. When I wrench around, there's no one there. The sing-song voice continues. "It doesn't matter where you go... or what you do... or who you have to protect you..."
Footfalls across the tile floor now. I close my eyes and bite my lip hard, not wanting to believe that this is happening.
When I turn, he's there, creeping toward me. "You can't escape me." He grins then; it's sick and twisted and looks so unlike the Stiles I know that suddenly this whole 'Void' thing doesn't seem quite so crazy after all.
"What do you want?" My voice is strong yet hushed. He doesn't answer me; he just strolls closer. One pale hand reaches out to stroke my cheek. I jerk away from him. "Don't touch me!" I spit.
He raises an eyebrow. "Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to resist me?" He pulls up a chair and perches on the end of it, admiring me. "Don't fight me, Y/N."
"Why not?" A confidence arises in me. "This isn't real."
"How do you know?"
"This is a dream. It's night; the lights are off; I don't have an IV... and most importantly, Scott and Stiles would never have let you in here."
Void-Stiles sits back in the chair, impressed. He nods as he gives me an appraising look. "You're right. This is a dream."
I let out a breath. I've won. I found the loop-hole in his threats. Of course now this might prompt him to visit me more when I'm conscious...
"But you know what I love about dreams?" he continues. "Pain, suffering... it all still feels real."
He leans forward suddenly, hovering over me. "For example..." He takes my wrist in his hands, licking over his lips. "If I were to do this..." He snaps the bones easily. My back arches and I let out a scream. "You aren't harmed in reality, but here? Inside your pretty little head?" He hums, tightening his grip on my arm. "It tastes just as sweet."
I whimper softly when he drops my arm onto the bed. His wide dark eyes are focused on the IV tube. "What's this?" he asks with a crooked smile. "You made dessert?"
Void-Stiles moves around the bed to behold the still-wet trail of blood from my ripping the IV out. "That looks like it hurt," he muses. Then, in one fluid motion, he takes the IV out. I gasp, seeing the blood bubble on my skin as it rushes to get out.
"Yes, that hurts terribly, doesn't it, Y/N?" His voice is husky. His lips find the sensitive area, sucking gently. He peers up at me, and for the first time I notice that his eyes aren't merely dark. They're nearly black. There's no hint of the familiar honey-brown.
Not Stiles. This isn't Stiles. Why did I take so long to figure that out? Why did I need other people to tell me what is so clear?
Void pulls away abruptly. He looks troubled. Then realization crosses his face. "Clever girl," he states. "Finally figured out that I'm not Stiles. Your silly little crush isn't the one hurting you."
He places a knee on the edge of the bed. I push myself up into a better sitting position, but he yanks me back down. I lay beneath him, staring up into those soulless eyes.
"But I feel like Stiles, don't I?" He hums, running a hand up my thigh. "And I look like Stiles." The other knee comes up; he's straddling my legs. "And I sound like Stiles." He leans in close, face hovering over mine. I can feel his breath hitting my lips. "And I bet if you closed your eyes, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. It would be like Stiles actually wanted you, actually cared for you. But it wouldn't be real, and that would have to hurt a little."
I grit my teeth and turn my head. He chuckles before leaning down to skim his nose along my neck. "I can feel your little heart breaking. It's almost better than physical pain." He licks over my jugular. "You love him so much... mmm..."
"Get off of me."
"And who does he love?" he seethes.
"Get off."
"Who does he love?" Void loses patience, slamming his hand down beside my head. I glare up at him, and his mouth breaks into a grin. "Lydia. He loves Lydia." He shakes his head, eyes dancing with mirth. "Not you."
The lights come on. The windows let gray light in from the winter afternoon. The machine beside me beeps. My IV is still in. My wrist is fine.
Nurse McCall is just leaving the room. As she's turning to shut the door behind her, she sees that I'm awake. She gives me a brief greeting. "Can I get you anything?"
I can't believe the words are coming out of my mouth, especially after all the fuss I made earlier. She's shocked too. But I hadn't known at the time. And now I want to apologize, and maybe find out a little more about what's going on.
"I want to talk to Stiles."
