Lydia liked sugar coating. She liked the idea of setting things gently to someone. She liked the idea that horrible tragedies can be broken down to sound like a sweet poem. What she doesn't like, was when when it was done to HER. She knows something's wrong with Stiles. She knows that he's been acting weird lately. And she doesn't need her friend telling her that he was okay and that everything was fine and she's got nothing to worry about. IT'S ALL BULLSHIT, and her friends attempting to convince her that's it's not just makes her feel worse. She knows that Stiles was basically losing his mind, and that he's starting to hallucinate and that he's been having nightmares everyday. She is absolutely desperate to find out what's wrong with him, and none of her friends would help her.
Lydia groaned as marimba gradually amplified from her phone, her daily reminder that she has to get up at the crack of dawn to go get ready for school. She sighed inwardly as she glanced at her alarm, only to see 02:34 AM blazed in neon blue, contrasted against the dull black of the clock. She frowned. Maybe the clock died. But when she saw her phone, it read out the same time. That was when she realised that she hasn't picked up her phone. She slid her thumb across the screen lazily as she saw Stiles' name on her screen. Probably just wanted to tell her that he accidentally rolled off the bed ,she thought as she rolled her eyes. "hello?" she mumbled groggily, only to be responded with a chocked sob. Stiles's sob. "Stiles? Are you okay?" She was starting to worry. "Lydia I - I- my foot hurts" Stiles sputtered. " Why? Did you break it?" she was already getting up from her bed. "I - I- I don't know, Lyd. Can you come get me? Stiles sounded terrified. "Yeah,yeah, of course. You're not at home?" she grabbed her coat from the rack. "no I'm at som-" Lydia then heard the familiar obnoxious high pitched repetitive sound whenever someone hangs up on her.
"good God" she uttered as she tried to call Stiles back, only to receive his voicemail. She tried again. "hey you've reached Stiles -" she hung up and tried again. And again. And then two more times. When she was about to redial again, Stiles' grinning face popped up on her screen, and she desperately answered, not even waiting to hear if Stiles was there. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" her voice boomed through the phone mic. "I'm at a- at some basement." Stiles was hiccuping by now. "At a house?" Lydia's brain was racking through all house in Beacons Hills, trying to remember which had basements. "no, no, it's too big to be a house's basement. Some industrial factory or something." Stiles' voice broke. "Okay, okay, hang on, okay? I'm gonna get you, I'm on my way right now. Hang tight, okay? I'll be right there." she said before hanging up. Everything that happened next was a blur. She calls Scott. Calls Aiden. Her hunch turned out to be wrong. She screws things up. Sherif Stillinski found Stiles. She let out a breath. She went home."
She shuddered as the terrifying memory flashed through her mind. That's it. She determined. She's going to find out what's wrong with Stiles. She can, and she will. Even if she's going to be alone.
