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» [OS] Someone Save Me
Posted: Jun 12 2014, 10:07 PM
WEREWOLF (LOUP GAROU)
Stiles is Offline
Stiles hasn’t been sleeping well since he was attacked almost two weeks ago. It had been a challenge for him to even just get a half hour of sleep , most days it wasn’t worth the effort to try and even get more then a couple of hours. He had noticed a few other changes in himself also. His emotions were everywhere , highs , lows, but mostly just anger, panic and sadness. He was lashing out at people, having more panic attacks and just exhausted all the time. So when it was suggested he get tested, even though they said it was most likely stress, Stiles didn’t fight too hard on the movement.
He never though that it wasn’t stress or PTSD or even just him going insane. What was found instead of anything of those things was Frontal Temporal Dementia, the same thing his mother had. In fact, his scans were beginning to look just like hers. Which meant, that he was going to die, one way or another. Melissa tried to give him hope , that medicine had advanced so far that they could fix it, that because he was wolf that he could be healing from it. Stiles let her have hope, let her try and convince him, but he knew that really, there was nothing that could be done while he was alive.
It had been a rough couple of days since finding out, more tests, more panic, more exhaustion to pull him under. That’s when it was suggested he take one of Lydia’s sleeping pills, and when his Fiancé gladly gave it to him to help, he didn’t fight on that either. He honestly just wanted to sleep for a few days , just forget what was happening, and move on with life. Maybe it was all a dream, and that when he woke up he would be okay. His life would be as good as it would be before the attack.
He had slept in blackness, no weird dreams , no waking up , just darkness. Then he was awake, still as tired as ever trying to work through the motions of the day. He rolled out of bed to stubble to the bathroom still with sleep in his eyes. Pulling off the PJ’s that he slept in he climbed into the shower letting the warm water beat down on his skin as he rested his head against the tiled wall of the shower. Maybe he could just stay there till he woke up , letting the warmth of the water comfort him.
But he knew that he couldn’t, there were things to do and people to apologize to. So climbing out of the shower with slow aching movements, the injuries from his attack leaving him sore and in pain if he tried to move too much. He pulled a towel around his waist and grabbed another for his hair rubbing the fluffy fabric against his head. He pulled it down against his face just resting it there for a moment. He pulled the towel down till his eyes weren’t covered anymore, starring at his eyes with a sadness. Dark bags were starting to form under them, showing just how little sleep he was getting now. A light ring of red showed in his whites, showing how exhausted he was.
It was as he was looking into his own eyes that he noticed something different. His hands were contrast with the towel , but something was different about one of them. So he started counting. One, two , three, four , five and then six. He had six fingers on his right hand. People didn’t have six fingers. And that’s when he felt something snap.
He woke up with a scream stumbling backwards from where he was standing. He was falling against limbs and roots, leaves crunching as his backside landed against them. He couldn’t breathe as he scrambled backwards till his back hit a tree. He looked around wildly trying to find where he was, how he got there. But all he could see is trees, dirt and darkness. It felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he couldn’t do anything not even talk. And that’s when he realized he couldn’t breathe because he had yet to stop screaming. The noise echoing around the woods like a horror movie as he forced a shaking hand against his mouth to force the sounds to be trapped in his mouth.
He shuddered against the wind, chills rushing up his spine. Though most nights were not cold , especially now that he was a werewolf, he couldn’t feel warmth at all. All he felt was spine aching coldness. He looked at what he was wearing. His same thin PJ’s grey pants and red shirt. No socks no shoes, dirt on his feet and arms as he felt the tears start coming with gasping sobs. He was so confused, so panicked, nothing was right, everything thing was wrong.
He pulled his legs up to his chest sobbing into his knees as his body shook in desperation and cold. He was lost , alone, and didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, all he could do was try to hold on to anything to keep him from breaking completely. But at that moment…it seemed nothing could.
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