This is my first story that I've posted anywhere., so I'm really nervous and excited about it. It will hopefully be the first of many stories that I post if enough people want me to write more. The second and third chapters are already being written so they should be up soonish. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or Teen Wolf. The story contains self-harm so just a little trigger warning to go with that.

Stiles isn't depressed, he isn't one of those kids that sits and listens to heavy metal and wears all black. No, Stiles is happy, he's just numb. Sometimes he's just a shell and well, the blade brings him back and fills the shell. Sometimes he feels like a let down, like he will never please his mother, that he isn't what his parents had expected him to be. Other times he just likes to be reminded that he fails at things. Shells can't fail like Stiles can. Being reminded of these things only reminds Stiles that he isn't a shell.

One slice to receive the overwhelming sensation of heat, one slice to remind him that he isn't as numb as he feels, one slice to remind him how much of a disappointment he is and finally, one deeper, longer slice to be a constant reminder of his failures. Four swipes of the blade along his wrists, four swipes of the blade to calm him. With one wrist stinging, he moves onto the next wrist, the one scattered with the most past reminders, some scars small and almost unnoticeable others larger and paler, but all the scars on this wrist look precise and neatly placed. The blade meets this wrist more often, his right hand much steadier than his left. His right wrist is a mangle of more jagged marks, carelessly placed by a shaking hand.

This is definitely not the first time that Stiles has settled into the tub, razor in hand. Actually he could sit here for hours leaving more marks, studying older ones, running long fingers over still-tender cuts from the night before. But of course he can only stay in the bathroom so long before his dad or one of his werewolf acquaintances comes knocking on the door asking for something he can't give them or tell them. Most nights he hopes it's his dad that knocks, his dad can't smell the blood or the pain that rolls off of him in waves, his dad is easier to keep in the dark. After months of lying about wolves and supernatural creatures, lying about his mental state is a walk in the park. So his dad remains oblivious to his current state of mind, the wolves however, are a different story. True, they don't know the extent of his situation but they know there's something up with him, they know he's quieter than usual, they notice how he's become more jumpy whenever someone comes to close or touches his arms, they know but they don't know, not really.

He glances at his phone and notices he's been in the tub for 2 hours. Another hour and I'll get out, he thinks and he picks up the blade and begins slicing, calming himself. The blood drips from his wrist into the bathwater. It's enchanting almost, watching the blood drops become swirls of red in the clear water. It's hard to get a good grip on the blade as blood from his earlier cuts starts to coat his hand. He drops the razor and it makes a loud noise on the side of the tub in the otherwise silent room. Not even a minute later and there's a knock on the door, bringing him out of this trance. They'll go eventually, he thinks, They probably think I'm jerking off.

He shrugs it off and picks up the blade ready to slice a few more reminders into the skin on his left wrist when the knocking returns. Sighing, he climbs out of the tub, wraps a towel around his waist and hides the razor behind the pipe under the sink. There's another knock on the door, this time heavier more demanding. He knows it can't be his dad because he's on the late-shift again, probably one of the puppies wanting moan about Derek and his horrendous training exercises.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your knickers on wolfy." He doesn't receive a reply so he knows it's not Erica wanting to watch the Batman movies or Isaac wanting to talk about his daddy issues, because they always throw out a snarky reply. But when he unlocks and pulls open the door, making sure to keep his arms folded and hidden, Derek Hale king of the leather clad wolf gang, is the last person he's expecting to see standing on the other side.