Lydia Martin was forced awake for the third time that night due to a nightmare. And for the third time that night she couldn't remember what the nightmare had been. She woke up for the third time remembering only one thing from her restless dreams. The sound of Stiles' screams. They were blood curdling screams that held so much furosity they could almost rival her own. Sitting up in her bed the ginger haired girl closed her green eyes taking several deep breaths to calm herself so that she could think rationally.
"Why would I be hearing Stiles screaming?" She wondered out loud. "I haven't talked to him in nearly eight years."
This was true. Shortly after high school graduation as the Valedictorian Lydia chose to attend Harvard University where she had been accepted nearly tuition free due to several scholarships thanks to her academic performance and IQ of 170. She graduated as the schools Valedictorian yet again with a PhD and Bachelor's in Neuroscience and an Associates degree in Forensic Science and psychology. She then took a job at New York University Langone Medical Center as a Neurosurgeon Physician Assistant. Her parents, with all of their disagreements they've had through the years, could agree on one thing—they were both incredibly proud of their daughter.
She hadn't spoken to any of her old friends since her spring semester her first year of college; a fact that Lydia was not proud of. But if she was being honest, the real reason she didn't keep in contact with any of them was out of fear. There had been no super natural disasters of any kind since graduation, a fact which she was thankful for. She feared that if she were to reach out to any of them again something terrible might happen. Not that she would be telling any of them that at the 20 year reunion. If anybody were to ask her she would simply tell them that her career kept her busy, which wasn't a complete lie. She had work every single day, a full 12 hour shift.
But Lydia was a banshee. As much as she wanted to admit to leaving that life behind her when she left Beacon Hills, she knew it was a part of her that would never really leave. Lydia also knew that these dreams could not be a coincidence. She predicted death after all, and after not having any contact with her high school friends in nearly eight years why would she be hearing Stiles screaming if it didn't mean something important? Without giving it another moments thought the red headed girl threw the covers off of her and stepped down onto the floor before rushing to her closet to pack. Lydia Martin had made up her mind. She was going back to Beacon Hills.