Lydia pov
Your scream ends and you collapse against Stiles's lifeless body and you're crying like your life is over because, it is, because hers is and you signalled it with your wail and you wish you didn't have to. You wish you weren't just the person who found the bodies. You wish you didn't have to find her body.
And then you're outside and Isaac is retching over to your left and she's still in Scott's arms and she's never going to breathe again even if Scott is breathing too much.
There's blood on her lips to match the blood on her love's hands and you wish, not for the first time, that you weren't so smart because if you weren't so fast at processing things, you might have even been able to fool yourself into thinking that she was fine because from this angle you can barely see the wound that ended her life. But you can't pretend because you know it's there, because you felt the blade as if it had pierced your flesh instead and with a mind like yours, you simply cannot believe a lie that big.
That mind of yours is racing at a million miles a minute and you're sure it's about to catch fire and you'll crash and burn but all you feel is cold. You're torn between anger and fear and longing and numbness and it all blends together in this big ball of pain and cold and it hurts and it's not stopping, why isn't it stopping? And the numbness reaches for you with icy phantom fingers, to drag you down down down and you know that if you let it you'll never return but you don't care because she's gone and she will never come back and it's just not fair because if anyone should be dead it should be you. Not her. Because she's sweet and innocent and you are anything but.
And just as you give in to your numbness, a familiar hand goes to your shoulder and Stiles is there, leaning heavily on Derek, but he's saying your name and unknowingly giving you enough strength to stumble forward in your ridiculous heels, and nothing matters but her and then you're kneeling in front of them, rocks digging into pale flesh and Scott's sobbing and you can't feel anything except pain and you can't make a noise even as the tears stream down your face in a waterfall of despair and even with your years of experience of putting up a cold front, you just can't stop them because without your best frend by your side you're just not sure who you are and oh god, it hurts and then you're remembering her and every damn moment you two have shared and then it hits you that those beautiful hazel eyes will never be able to cry like you are now or sparkle with their usual light as she tells you exactly what you need to hear or laughs with you as you watch sappy romance movies and eat too much popcorn. She will never be there for you again because she's dead.
She's dead and it's all your fault.
fin
A/N: So, I'm experimenting with my writing style a bit and I've decided that I kinda like writing second person so if you could possibly tell me whether or not you like it or if you'd read more like this and if not, how I could improve. Also, in case it's not clear enough this is from Lydia's point of view, set just after the events of 3x23. Any comments that you can leave would mean a lot. Rated T because I'm paranoid. Thanks,
Lissa