CONTROL ➳ D. HALE [2]

08 ; psychological causes

08 ➳ PSYCHOLOGICAL CAUSES

Elise wasn't entirely sure where she was driving, but she wasn't all that concerned. Mostly, she just needed to get out of the house. It felt as if the walls were suffocating her. Melissa had gone to work and Scott had left for a cross-country trip earlier that morning. Both of which had taken a lot of convincing from Elise, as neither of her family members had wanted to leave her alone.

She slowed to a stop at a red light, finding that the surrounding streets were emptier than usual. Without meaning to, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror and she spotted a familiar leather jacket resting in the back seat.

She sucked in a breath as tears burned behind her eyelids. She'd gone for a drive to escape her grief for even just an hour, not to have it following her. Suddenly, something moved behind her car. Elise focused her vision in the mirror, trying to discern what she'd seen in the brief flash of movement.

She saw nothing, so she craned her neck to look out of the back window, still finding that nothing was there. Maybe it was an animal, Elise guessed.

A loud bang sounded from the brunette's window, and she spun her head, gasping as she saw a bloodied hand pressed against the glass. She stared in shock, unable to process what was happening as Derek's pale face appeared on the other side of the window. His eyes met hers briefly before they slid closed and he fell to the ground.

Elise stared wide-eyed at the bloody handprint on her window, blinking to make sure that she hadn't imagined it. He's alive, she thought. She sucked in a breath, pulling herself out of the daze as she put her car into park and jumped out.

She dropped to the ground next to Derek, her eyes flicking over the blood stains that covered his clothes as she forced herself to focus. Blood was still seeping from his wounds, making its way through the cracks in the asphalt. Derek was alive, but she knew that he wouldn't be for long if she didn't act quickly.

➳

With an immense amount of difficulty, Elise dragged Derek into the loft. The entire ride, he'd been drifting in and out of consciousness.

She wasn't quite sure why, but she had a feeling that going to Deaton would only land them in more trouble than they were already in. She eased him onto his bed, raking a hand through her hair as she pulled out her phone and dialed Scott's phone number.

It went directly to voicemail. She tried calling Stiles, then Isaac, and even Allison, but everyone's phone had gone directly to voicemail.

She frowned, dropping her phone on the table as she glanced back to Derek. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling irregularly. Elise gently pulled up his shirt, revealing a numerous amount of wounds. All of them were seeping black blood.

The corners of her lips twitched downward. "How... bad?" Derek asked upon seeing her expression.

"Well," Elise sighed. "Do you want the good answer or the real answer?" Derek coughed slightly in what Elise guessed was his attempt at a laugh. "What can I do?" she asked, looking away from his wounds and up to his face, finding that his eyelids were slipping closed once again. "No," she muttered. "No, Derek, you have to stick with me, alright?" Elise's hands shook violently as she cupped his cheek, turning his face toward her. "I need you to tell me how to help you." She watched as he parted his lips slightly as if he were going to speak but he passed out again before getting the chance to do so. Elise stood up, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed.

Her hands fidgeted as she moved, twirling her fingers around one another as she clasped and unclasped her hands, nerves shaking her every move. She continued pacing, her eyes glued to Derek, making sure that she could still see the rise and fall of his chest. She had no idea what to do to help him, and it was driving her insane. After a moment, she chose to ignore the uneasy feeling that the idea of contacting Deaton had given her and pulled out her phone again, dialing the clinic's number.