Get Away ~ Sterek

Chapter Four ~ Derek

I've managed to spend – what feels like – an eternity traversing through the forest. I started losing hope as my legs started to become weak, body growing tired. Everything in me was screaming to give up, that it would be better to live in the wilderness than with my father. At least out here, the only thing hurting me would probably be starvation.

As I lean against a tree in defeat, I spot something in the corner of my eye. A clearing? Despite the protests my body gives, I walk over to get a better look. Hope courses through me as I spot a modern, two story house.

Finally, there could be someone who might be able to help me. I see a black Camaro in front of the house, sighing in relief. Hopefully, someone is home.

As I step towards it, a thought flashes through me. The occupant could be a killer, hiding out in these woods. Maybe there's bodies in graves somewhere around here. It would be perfect: nobody would ever find them.

Glancing at the house, I don't feel anything off. It sort of looks homey. It's exterior is pristine, no speck of dirt or grime anywhere in view. There's no way this person was a serial killer, not with a house like that.

I roll my eyes at the flawed logic. I huff at my idiocy, stalking up to the porch. Why am I doing this again? Right. I'm lost.

I knock on the door, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. I study my surroundings, tapping my hands on my legs in boredom. Minutes pass by with no response. I let out a sigh, deciding to call out.

"Hello?! Is anyone home?! I got lost, and I don't own a phone! Is there anyone in there who can help me?!" I yell, hoping that someone will respond this time.

Of course, there's no response. A couple more minutes pass by, making me huff. Just my luck.

I turn around, about to go back to the forest terrain to give up on life, when I hear the door open. My heartbeat picks up, happiness probably radiating off of me as I turn to the door.

My eyes widen at the sight. An older male – early twenties – stands there, looking disheveled. His hair is in disarray, shirt clinging to his skin, almost threatening to rip. His eyes match the color I've seen for possibly the last hour. Green invades my mind and the eyes remind me of nature.

It brings me a sense of calm that I haven't felt for a long while. I glance at him, heart racing. Damn, he's hot.

No! Stiles, no! Don't you dare think that.

I inwardly scowl, shifting my feet on the outside as a sign of discomfort. Dad would be pissed if he heard me say that this god was hot. Ugh, he really does look like a god. It's so unfair.

"Sorry," the man says breathlessly. "I was -- I didn't know who you were." He runs a hand through his black, puffy hair in an attempt to calm it down.

I laugh, shrugging and averting my gaze. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just lost. I swear I'm not some sort of serial killer." Really? Why am I so fixated on serial killers right now? Focus, Stiles. "I mean, that would definitely be something a serial killer would say, but I'm not. At least, I don't think so. What if I'm a serial killer and I just don't know it? That would be freaky. I can't imagine--"

The male clears his throat, cutting me off. I flush, laughing awkwardly. "You said you were lost?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah," I say softly. "I just need you to direct me back to the dirt road, if you could."

The male ponders it for a bit. I look away, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the gaze of this beautiful man. Suddenly, his door slams shut. He's gone.

I groan, turning around and walking off the porch. I start walking in a random direction, only to be stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I retract from the hand almost immediately. My breathing speeds up and I freeze in place.