Allison + I. Broken Glass
disclaimed
blood, injury cw
...
Apparently fugue states are par for the course for newly resurrected souls.
Lydia tells her as much over the phone, sounding rushed as she tried to pack her things up to get home to help Allison. She's only taking one class this semester, but of course Allison loses it when she's not around.
Perched on the edge of the bathtub, trashcan tucked between her legs and newly sanitized tweezers in her good hand, Allison's not sure why they expected anything else.
She held it together pretty well when Lydia was finishing senior year back in Beacon Hills, when a continent and the Atlantic separated them, but the closer they draw to the anniversary of her death, the more things like this seem to be happening now that Lydia's here in France, with her. Lydia assures her it's not unheard of, that her soul is still settling back into her body and sometimes that means growing pains or minor blackouts.
Allison is slightly less than convinced.
If the mirror in the hall is any indication, she thinks that things may have gone too far. That maybe her soul is a little less comfortable in her body than it was pre-death. The glass embedded in her knuckles and palm only serves as further proof.
She doesn't remember smashing the mirror, or cleaning up the mess in the aftermath. When she came to, there was blood running down her arm, smeared across walls and cabinets and a pile of bloody glass in the trash.
She'd called Lydia immediately, panicked and shaking.
Allison's calmer now, but not by much. She has to take a moment to still her hand before she begins to pick out the slivers of glass.
The door to the apartment bangs open not much later, Lydia hurrying into the bathroom a moment after, dropping her stuff at the door. Allison's gotten most of the glass out, but doesn't resist as Lydia comes to take the tweezers from her and take over the task.
"We'll figure this out," she promises quietly. Allison's not sure if the promise is for her or Lydia.
Maybe both.
"We'll be okay," Lydia says, stronger this time. She presses a kiss to the inside of Allison's wrist and Allison can barely stand how gentle she is with her. "You'll be okay."
There's a lot of evidence to the contrary, right now, Allison thinks. But the steel in Lydia's eyes and the quiet conviction in her voice is enough to get Allison to believe her.