Welcome one and all! So, please all you lovers- and haters, do not hate me. For I just stumbled on Teen Wolf when episode 7 came out on Monday. Trust me, when I saw the commercials, my mind was instantly thinking what probably most where, "Dear, dead God! Not another werewolf, teen love story." I'm sorry, watched Twilight, hated Twilight. No offense to any Twilight lovers. We can still be friends!
Anyway, I watched it- AND I WAS HOOKED! I watched from episode 1- 7 today, and well, I've had a weird liking towards Lydia. Yes, she's a 'bitch' but I wouldn't call her that. I would say she's confident, strong, independent. But anyway, I've also have a love for Stiles.
(Hehe, he's a cutie...) But this is my first Teen Wolf fic, and I just want to be reviewed on my writing and story. Added, I might add romance in the lines of this story, so review and I'll add.
Enjoy: DON'T OWN ANYTHING! Not even a RedVine. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE HELL CAN'T THEY DO?
She had everything. Everything a sixteen year old female wanted. She had the looks, she had the popularity- the attention. She had the dream guy, the money, the grades. Lydia Martin: the rich, beautiful, talented, smart and incredibly fashionable in the minds of anyone. Her life was perfect.
But underneath all that perfect was something ugly. Hideous- if you will. Who in the World could be that perfect? That beautiful, or that smart. It was not natural. It was not human.
Lydia sat on her bed, scrolling her phone casually. Nothing but the usual- after school, lazy, rich girl act. Though, it wasn't all an act. Realizing that calling Jackson three times an hour was a bit extreme, and he not picking up once, she tossed her touch screen on her desk and laid her head on a comforting pillow.
It defiantly was not long until her eyes began to tire. And soon enough, this perfect human fell into a deep, and comfortable slumber. Her mind couldn't help the erg of the thought- and she couldn't obligate in an objection.
"Lydia has no boobs! Lydia has no boobs!" They sang in mock. Under disgust beneath their veins there was. No respect, just pleasure. "So Big Red," her classmates laughed at the nickname.
Lydia tossed her feet. The adrenalin rushing through her body was hardly to bare. The sweat trickling her forehead, and falling towards the silky pillow- but her eyes just couldn't open. It was if this nightmare would haunt her until she opened her eyes. And it defiantly was. She had this dream too often.
She was in eight grade. She never knew until then that girls could be so harmful. That's why, it was her goal to become one.
"How does it feel to be the biggest loser in school? No guy would ever love you. You're trash. Nothing." The girl chuckled halfheartedly, "Hell, not even your parents love you." The girls laughed in response.
"Shut up! You know nothing about me or my parents!" Lydia couldn't fight the erg of yelling towards them. She hugged her bag close to her chest, and avoided contact with either of the girls.
"Oh, I don't?" She asked, taking a step closer to her nervous body. "I do know that your mother handed you off to you Aunt and Uncle. I do know that your father- himself, wanted an abortion. I do know, that your parents died." She chuckled as a tear fell from Lydia's porcelain cheek. "And hopefully," she took a step back, "this legend of, 'Mountain Lion'" she air quoted, "will come and put you and honestly, all of us out of our misery." She shrugged, "The maybe you can say 'hi' to your parents then?"
Lydia sat up. Sweat falling, her breath hitched, her head ached. She shakily let out a breath, and swung her legs across her bed. Soon enough letting her feet drag her towards the pink bathroom, she stared at her reflection.
Her eyes were black from her heavy makeup. Her sweat and tears mostly being the reason. Her hair was pulled up after a long day at school, but was now dangling like a greasy rope attached to her head. Her skin was paler than usual, and her head was throbbing every time she gasped for air.
"Lydia, get your ass down here now!" His voice was sharp and unkind. It made her flinch at the hear. It made her shiver at the thought. It made her ache at her weakness. Lydia took one last glance in the mirror, and decided not to keep her Uncle waiting.
She carefully walked down the steps, meeting her Uncle, her Aunt, and her cousin. "Y-yes?" She stammers out, strutting towards the kitchen with cation as the glares pounded her. "Did I do something wrong?" She was nervous. Scared of regret, scared of failure. Scared of them.
"Oh, wrong isn't quiet what I'd put it, Lydia," his voice echoed in her head. His cold glare told her otherwise. "More of..." he though for a moment, and actually she felt a bit relaxed as his eyes trailed from hers to the ground. But her hopes were crushed once his sarcastic face faced hers once more. "More of disappointment than wrong. More of failure. You wanna know why, Lydia?" He began to walk towards her shaking body.
"Sir, I'm sorry if I-" she was cut off by his hand. His strong, large, beefy hand- not hesitating for a moment before meeting her soft cheek. The stinging began. She clutched it, and hoped that her cold fingers would possibly absorb the stinging. That maybe it would take her pain and suffering and she could just wash it off. Wash away the pain.
"Sorry?" He snarled. His teeth grinding. His fingers tangled in her messy ginger hair, as he yanked it. His hand up so he could bring her frail body towards his face, getting a better glimpse at the girl. Her eyes began to water. She squinted her eyes and hoped he would have let go. He inched towards her face.
"Sorry for what? Sorry for ruining our lives for just waltzing in here like a lost duck, looking for mommy and daddy? Well guess what, they're dead. And guess what Lydia, we aren't your mother and father. So get this, through your pretty little red head of yours, you will never be accepted here."
He untangled his fingers, and threw her body of the floor, leaving her gaping on her hands on knees. "Let's go family. To dinner." He announced, the three family members left the house, leaving Lydia on her knees.
She breathed in, trying to catch it. "...I fucking hate my life!" She cried out of pain, anger, and lonesome. She limped back towards her room, and took a cold shower. Scared to fall asleep. Not because of the dream, but of what her family would do if she did. So she did what she always did at a time like this: Lydia got on her knees, the cold wooden floor beneath them. She raised the bed spread flap, and grabbed the shoe box. Taking the blade, she began her daily cutting.
*Sigh* I hate all the pain and suffering in this... But honestly. I usually write stories of this nature.
So, if you don't mind clicking that blue review button and telling me in a well, here's a thought- a review, then maybe this story could have a happy turning point. Please, it's for Lydia's sake.
Whoever reviews get's a hug from meee! Yeah... Sorry...
Until next time Lovies. Hugs and butterfly kisses, your dark lord, Arillovesyou22.
