I tiredly stare at myself in the mirror, I've had a total of nine hours of sleep in the past week, the extreme lack of sleep causing the dark circles under my eyes to protrude. The bare minimum of makeup on my face, and what I mean by 'bare minimum' is bare. Why even bother, nothing's going to cover up these circles. There's not much to say about my appearance, I take mostly after my father, this includes brown eyes, brown frizzy hair, brown stubby eyelashes. Brown. Today I'm clothed in a baggy gray t-shirt that has multiple toothpaste stains, overalls that hang low on my waist, that of which are tucked into my thick knit socks, along with a crème cardigan that goes down to shins. I shrug. Decent enough.
My bedroom door snaps open revealing my twin sister Claudia, my fraternal twin sister Claudia. While I got my looks solely from our father, she took a different route and mirrored our mother. Her striking hazel eyes identical to mothers, just as my dark amber eyes are identical to liquid shit. Today her strawberry blonde curls are pulled back in a high ponytail, strands of hair hang loose framing her face. She wears a flowy white dress that she oh so subtly paired with a sangria lace bralette. Her lack of height she made up in three inch heels. Her makeup a collection of nudes and pastels, ranging from burnt umber to a pale rose.
She frowns, "There's a thin line between looking indie and looking homeless." She bends down to pick up my worn-down hunting boots, "These definitely cross the line, Allison. God, when will you let me to throw these out, they're awful," I huff. I expect nothing less from her, I guess.
I quickly swipe them from her hands, "These," I wave the shoes in front of her face, "Are Aunt Allison's, like hell I'm throwing them out." I hastily slide them on over my thick knit socks.
She crinkles her nose, "Just because she's dead doesn't meanyou're the one who should dress like a corpse." I huff out in annoyance. So much for not disrespecting the dead, or the living for that matter.
I sigh, "You always had a way with words, didn't you Claudia," I hastily move around her, purposely bumping into her shoulder while doing so. Whoops.
I make my way downstairs before Claudia can form a retort, I find my mom lifting my dad's head out of a bowl of cereal. Tired by the looks of it, probably exhausting himself over some case again. One time, during a case in which he called "Little Red's Grandmother", he didn't sleep for a total of seventy-two hours, this resulted in a trip to the emergency room. And no, it wasn't from the lack of sleep…he tripped on pair of Claudia's heels and had to go in for head trauma.
I sigh, "Stay up all night looking over case files, dad?" I wonder what this one is about, you can never know with Beacon Hills, I guess. I grab the box of Lucky Charms and fish out a handful, shoving them into my mouth. Hmm, they're magically delicious indeed.
"I just can't figure out how this happened, three entire bodies just drained of water, how do you even drain someone of water," He bangs his head on the table, 2% milk still dripping from his hair, "They're just shriveled up, like little raisins." He runs a hand through his tousled hair. I'm surprised he's still got a full head of it given he does that a lot. Old habits die hard, I suppose.
Mom continues to pick out pieces of cereal from his hair, "You'll figure it out," She beams at him. "You always do, Stiles." He looks back at her, eyes bloodshot from the three 5 Hour Energy's he took, but somehow his eyes still glisten, just like they do every time he looks at her.
He gives her a half smile, "Soggy cereal a good look for me then?"
"A perfect one," She delivers a small kiss to his lips, which he returns back gladly.
His gaze travels back to the task at hand, "Here, Alli, come take a look at this and tell me if you see anything, maybe I just need a fresh pair of eyes." In frustration, or exhaustion, (I can never really tell with him) he lets his head fall back into his bowl of cereal.
I quickly slide the pictures over to my side of the table, careful to avoid the drops of milk caused by his splash. I guess, somewhere along the way I've taken quite a liking to helping my dad with his cases. It gives me a sense of importance, something I don't feel quite a lot. I start to look over the photos hoping to gather some information. The sense of unease settling faster than a pin dropping.
'Look at the photo, Allison,' It was nothing more than a whisper.
I whip my head up, "Did you say something?" My mother shares a look with my father before shaking her head no.
Her voice cracks, "Did you find something, Allison?"
I hesitate, "There's something off about this picture," my voice hitches, "I just, can't figure…" My eyes narrowing, looking closer at the photo-
-In a blink, the familiar scenery of my family's kitchen disappears around me, all of a sudden, I'm laying on the damp forest floor, choking on my own blood. There's a person hovering above me. No, It's not a person, it's a shadow. It flickers, how it would in an old black and white movie, the absence of words hardly mattering because you somehow know exactly what's happening.
Blood gurgling from the corners of my mouth, "Please, god please, please don't hurt me, I have a daughter." I choke on my words, my voice hoarse, "She's just six years old, she needs her father! God please, please, don't kill…" I gasp, a sudden burst of pain racking through my body, a
strangled scream escapes my lips. Stop it, please. My vision hazing as I close my eyes, I reach my hand out, one final attempt. "Please," It comes out as nothing but a whisper. My consciousness remaining by a thread, I open my eyes just enough to see my fingers shrivel as they turn different shades of blue and black. Oh? The shadow in front of me…materializing?
My eyes rolling back into my head, "I love you. Daddy loves you, Sage,' I whisper, a bright light consuming the rest of my vision-
-A small screech escapes my mouth as I stumble out of my chair, ultimately knocking it over.
I quickly look at my hands, relieved to see that they're still a fleshy pink. Of course, they would still be pink. It was a hallucination, just a hallucination. I take a breath. The minute…I start giving into these fantasies, that's it, that's the day I'm crazy, not now, not just yet.
"Allison, Ali, are you okay?" Dad abandoned his view of the inside of his bowl to look at me. I sigh. I'm okay, just not ready not to be.
"I'm fine, dad. I guess, the medicine just hasn't taken effect yet," I give him a small smile. A glint in the kitchen window catches my eye, I look down to find shiny pieces of glass littering the table. Fantastic, I somehow shattered a glass in my episode. God, these are getting so much worse.
Mom follows my gaze, her eyes landing on the shards of glass scattered among the table,
"Allison, honey, do you maybe wanna take the day off?" She throws a worried glance at my father. Staying home? No, the more normal things are the more normal I am. Nothing changes, everything stays the same, I stay the same.
I exhale, "I'm fine, mom, I'll get it under control, I've started taking my medication again, remember?" My gaze on her as I attempt to pick up the shattered glass. A sharp stinging pain immediately spreads through my palm. "Motherfu-" My voice cuts short as I notice her eyes narrowing. Picking up broken glass with my bare hands? Not my finest moment. "Just need to get to college, right?" I give her a small smile, she returns it with a frown. I sigh. "Mom, I'm not ten years old anymore, I don't need a magical story about werewolves or banshees to make me feel better. I've learned to deal with…what I have, I've accepted it," I pause, "You should too." We stare at each other for what seems to be a while, my dad's eyes switching between the both of us. She takes a final glance at the broken glass, part of which is still lodged in my hands. Again, not my finest moment.
She looks up, "Fine, but I'm driving you to school," She gives me one of her famous lip purses, daring me to disagree. Am I okay with this? No. Argue with Lydia Stilinski? Only a fool would.
I huff out in defeat, "I'll be in the car," I give a quick peck on my dad's cheek, this distracting him as I steal his granola bar from the table, "Bye!" I quickly run out the door before he can notice the absence of his snack.
Lydia's POV:
The door makes a soft click, letting me know that Allison's out of the house. I sigh wistfully, "Her power's amplifying, Stiles," I stare out the window, watching Allison drop all of her stuff as she runs across the street to pet Mr. Dinkleberg's dog, "She shattered that glass with barely a yell."
His voice chokes, "I don't understand why we can't just tell her Lydia, to watch her think that there's something wrong with her, I just, I can't," He puts his head in his hands. I put my arms around him, knotting my hands into the back of his hair.
"I know, Stiles. We've told her the stories, if she's not ready to listen she won't be able to understand, she won't be able to accept what-" I sigh, "Who she is. She has to figure this one out on her own," God I wish she'd figure it out sooner rather than later.
"I know you're right," His voice muffled by his hands.
"When am I not?" I kiss the top of his head, "I have to go, Mr. Dinkleberg's dog can only take so many belly rubs."
His dark chocolate eyes narrowing, "Dinkleberg," He pauses, as if realizing something, "Hey, Lydia?"
I pause, already halfway out the door, "Yes?"
He hesitates, "Didn't I have a granola bar sitting right here?" I chuckle, the door silently clicking behind me. Allison The Stealthy strikes again.
Hey! So, this story is hugely inspired by XxFraGileAndBrOkenXx on .
I want to see how this first chapter goes, if people like it or not.
This is my first time writing something on wattpad, so bear with me.
I'll try to have longer chapters in the future, but as a perfectionist it takes a while.
I'd love for your feedback! Tell me your ideas for the story, what I should add or change.
Thank you!