Shadow [Stiles Stilinski Fanfic]

|Chapter 1|

                                                            |Chapter 1|

        There was a pounding sensation in his chest. It felt like his heart, but that couldn't be right. He was bleeding out just a moment ago. He remembered gasping for air, only to choke on his own blood. Long story short...Stiles Stilinski was supposed to be dead.

            For some reason, however, he wasn't dead. He could feel his heart beating and his lungs working, so it was obvious he wasn't dead. The question why, however, still remained. Another questioned popped up. Where was he?

            His first guess was a hospital. Stiles didn't like hospitals. It was where he watched his ill mother die at a young age. It was where he got his MRI recently, or at least he assumed it was recently. The last thing he remembered was it taking over him. The nogitsune. He let him in. Stiles let him back in. They were coming to kill him. The nogitsune, Stiles reminded himself, they were trying to kill the nogitsune, not me. Somehow, though, it still felt like it was him. They might as well count as the same person nowadays.

            When Stiles realized he was lying down somewhere far too uncomfortable to be a hospital, he both relaxed and stressed out at the same time. He attempted to open his eyes. They felt far heavier than he remembered. Then, it felt like all of his senses suddenly turned on again at the exact same time.

            An awful pain exploded by his stomach. He screamed, but not from the pain as much as the fear. The fear that he was going to die and that no one cared about Stiles anymore. He was just known to his friends and family as the 'possessed demon' that would always be there, even if the nogitsune left. His heart thudded again. Why was he not dead?

            That was when he heard the footsteps rapidly thudding against the ground, getting louder and louder by the second. He panicked, anxiety automatically assuming the worst. That was when he heard the voice.

            The voice started with a surprised gasp, then, "Stiles?"

            His ears perked when he heard the calming voice say his name. He opened his eyes sluggishly, gazing up at strawberry blonde hair that he had always just wanted to graze his fingers over, feeling the silkiness. Vivid red lipstick stuck out from her complexion. Stiles couldn't help but notice the shape her lips had taken: A small, round 'O'.

            "L...Lyds?" He wheezed, astonished at the grittiness of his own voice. His throat felt like a desert, making him question himself how long ago he had anything to drink. It was manifest that it hadn't been three days, since he would be dead already. Still, it felt like it had been a long time.

            He saw the blurry Lydia kneel down, reaching for something, probably in her purse. Stiles couldn't really tell. Then, a couple seconds later, he felt his head being tilted and something being held up to his parched lips. He opened them, rewarded with cold liquid sliding down his throat little by little.

            He felt more water, but this time it was on his cheek. Knowing he wasn't crying, the only other option was Lydia. He could hear her sobs, immediately wanting to comfort her. He tried to move, only having more pain flare throughout his body. Delicate, warm hands touched his shoulder, gently pushing him back down.

            "Just--just stay still, Stiles, please just stay still. They'll be here soon, I promise they will. God, please just stay still, and stay awake. Please," Lydia begged him desperately. He hissed in pain when he felt her hands move down to his stomach, pressing on a certain spot that made more agony flow through him.