Lydia stands in front of a glass case that holds pictures of students who were "Gone too Young". She sees pictures of people she cared for, people she spent time with, people who had truly touched her soul. Aiden, who had been persistent, more so than Stiles, and had she given him the time of day, the time to truly prove he could be a "good guy"; but who knows.
Maybe he could have been a knight in shining armor. He could've been good; he had potential. But before Lydia knew it, he was gone, like so many others.
She felt like she was in a graveyard but she had never truly understood that sense of foreboding until the death of her best friend. Lydia had always been careful about letting people in; when she chose Allison to be her best friend, she imagined they would go to prom together, they would shop and talk about boys together, that they would go to college and keep in touch…She imagined a person she could have a meaningful connection with, someone to confide in. Just a girl she could call a true friend. How naïve she was; how stupid, she thought to herself as she looked at Allison's candid shot that showed her smiling and laughing at something Scott had probably done.
It was surreal to look at pictures of people who mattered so much to her, on display in a glass case that signified their untimely passing. Aiden…Allison. These wounds cut too deep. There was only so much loss Lydia could handle. And now Stiles was teaching the were-coyote girl how to be a part of a pack. She wasn't jealous; anything but. She just thought that after Allison…that maybe Stiles would be there more…or maybe even just notice how 'out of it' she was.
Lydia couldn't dwell on the present. Wouldn't dwell on her sorrows and misery. She was a Martin, and Martins' didn't feel sorry for themselves. Sure they could mourn and grieve, but they did not wallow. She refused to wallow. Sure people gave her their condolences, told her they were "sorry for her loss". And she truly appreciated it; said thank you to every single person who took the time out of their day to simply speak to her about the extreme losses she had endured. But she wouldn't let it stop her. Knowing Allison and Aiden, had she stopped and mourned them for too long, they would have chided her for being too "sentimental".
Being a normal teenager was hard; being a banshee was even harder. She had felt their demise in her very bones; knew it was only a matter of time…and yet she couldn't put it into words; didn't know it was going to happen until it was too late.
She had felt Allison's death before it happened; a horrible sense of trepidation and dread she couldn't shake until she realized it was Allison that would be taken from her. The Stiles' Nogistune had said she would be screaming but she prayed with every scientific fiber of her being that it wouldn't come to pass. Allison was her rock; her anchor. Sure Stiles' was her "tether" but Allison…well, she felt like home. Like shopping trips and gossip; like sleep overs and utter joy. They were sisters in everyway but blood. And god knew they had shed enough blood…
She looks at Allison's picture; a smiling candid of her at lunch. Lydia's hand can be seen in the same picture, holding Allison's shoulder securely. They were going to grow old together; be 'gal pals'. Going to be each other's 'maids of honor'. Lydia had been so tactical when deciding who would be her best friend. And she hadn't chosen 'wrong'; hadn't made a mistake. Allison was great. Allison was perfect. But fate was cruel and Lydia didn't even get to say goodbye.
She rubs her eyes, feeling them water with tears. She refused to let them fall; refused to let her classmates and peers see her cry. It wasn't that she was embarrassed; she'd wept openly about Allison's passing. But Lydia knew how Allison felt about frowns.
"Don't frown Lydia. Someone could be falling in love with your smile." That was a line Lydia taught Allison, and yet Allison used it against Lydia every chance she got.
The bell rang, signifying the start of the school day and fortunately enough, Lydia had a free first period. She stayed in front of the glass display. Looked at Erica and Boyd's photos.
It had only been two years and yet so many people that Lydia had gotten to know had "passed away". Such a passive term for the 'recently deceased'. Aiden had been the death of Boyd and most likely the death of Erica. And yet all she could think about was how his lips tasted; how sincere he had been; how concerned he was for her well being. He had murdered people she had grown up with, people she went to school with, people she knew…and yet she remembered vividly how rock hard his abs were underneath her fingertips, and how anxious he got when she would be dismissive with him.
She wanted to miss those who had left this realm. She didn't want to focus on how "hot" Aiden was. She wanted to pay her respects; to those who had been killed; those who had been wronged; those who had deserved better.
Aiden; who had listened to her when she said she 'heard voices'. Aiden; who thought she was 'cute' when she was driving in circles with nothing motivating her but her freaky banshee powers. Aiden, who spent every waking hour proving he could be one of the good guys…
She didn't regret calling him a bad guy; he was, no doubt about it. But the fact that he wanted to change, the fact that he wanted to be better for her…that touched her. Even if she couldn't admit it out loud; even if Stiles was better at being a good guy…Aiden tried. And that warranted merit.
Liam comes out of nowhere and stands next to her.
"Did you know them?" Lydia knows he's referring to the pictures; asking if she knew any of the deceased and it kills her to be honest. It cuts into her soul, something awful.
"Yeah…Allison…." She points to the photo of Allison laughing. "She was my best friend." Liam stares at the photo silent. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, noticing the apprehension; the shock of her honest answer, but continues…"And Erica and Boyd."
Lydia looks at the picture of the two. They have their own individual pictures, separate from one another, but Lydia can't help but put them together. Its how they would've liked to be remembered. At least that's how Lydia imagines they would've felt. "They were turned into werewolves and fell in love. Erica was killed by an Alpha pack and Boyd … he died because of the Alpha pack too."
Liam's face is stoic as he bites his lip. Lydia has barely said a word and she can tell this freshman has already had 'too much'.
She points to Aiden's picture. "He was my boy toy for a bit. But he was killed by evil spirits that sought to eradicate evil…." Liam silently gulps.
"He tried to be better...that's worth something, right?" She looks at Liam, who seems lost in the case.
"He wasn't evil in the end…he tried really hard to be good. He died a good guy." Lydia wipes at tears that threaten to slide down her cheek.
Liam turns from the case and faces Lydia. For the first time, he notices her depression, her lack of enthusiasm in life…"Are you okay?" Liam asks, half-heartedly, half concerned.
"Yeah…." Lydia responds almost too quickly. "I'm fine" she turns to the freshman and gives him a tepid smile. He looks at her; really gauges her. He sees how unsure she is, how conflicted and hurt she truly is.
"Don't worry about it." Lydia flashes her signature grin and starts to walk away, her heels click-clacking on the tiled floor. Liam watches her as she strides off.
Lydia holds her books tightly, her bag strung across her right shoulder. The burden of loss weighs heavy on her soul but for some reason, she holds her head high and heads off to study hall to wait out the rest of her free period.
She has French next and even though she loathes the idea of attending a class she agreed to take because her best friend 'insisted' she's glad to know, there's always tomorrow...