Nemesis

Stiles bolted awake, screaming. It had happened again. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, on their clothes, on his hands. "Please," he cowered, feeling the restraints bounding his wrists to the bed. The nurses' eyes ran right over him, ignoring him. He looked across from him and paled. The two dark figures stood—one shorter, the other with gauze around its head. He screamed.