Malia would have rather been anywhere else but the depressing confines of Beacon Hills Highschool that morning, only because she knew the rest of her pack would be less than good company not because of what happened at Eichen House, but because she knew none of them had slept at all over the weekend. Scott and Liam were hyper-focused on who the beast was, whereas Stiles had been temporarily banned from Lydia's by Natalie who hadn't let her daughter leave her room not to mention the house. She needed answers, answers Lydia refused to give and until she did wasn't allowed the company of anyone affiliated with the supernatural. Malia had gone by once Saturday the day after the pack had gotten Lydia out of Eichen, Natalie hadn't had the door open thirty second before it was promptly shut and locked.
Part of Malia didn't blame her, she was afraid, her daughter had almost died and that hadn't even been the first time she had been in a life or death situation. It made Malia wonder how her own father would react if he had been exposed to her world. Stiles, Scott and Kira didn't understand. Somehow Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa had accepted fairly easily that everything that made up horror stories actually existed and legends were actually just retellings. Kira's parents were the ones who explained the supernatural to her. They had gotten lucky and even though Henry Tate wasn't biologically her father, he was more of a dad than Peter Hale ever would me. However, despite a twinge of understanding, Malia hated Natalie for putting Lydia in Eichen to begin with and that would never change. She didn't know Natalie before and now she no longer cared to, Malia had made up her mind and that was that.
From what she had heard from Stiles, Lydia was in fairly rough shape. She was weak, terrified and could only sleep because of the medication her mother kept shoving down her throat. She didn't expect to see Lydia for a while, which is why she was entirely shocked when she closed her locker door and found her eye catching the light red hair that would stand out in any room but in the moment she might as well have had a spotlight following her down the hallway.
She was hunched from the apparent weight of her backpack across her frame that had turned heart-wrenchingly frail. Her skin had found more colour than when Malia had last seen her, the bags had shrunk considerably under her eyes that had been done up as if nothing had happened. She looked…okay. Her hair was natural and freshly watched. She was Lydia just then, wearing a blue dress that came down to just above her knee, her heels were short but they were still heels and it wasn't even unusual to see the black bandana tied on top of her head, even though Malia knew what it was there to cover.
Malia jumped in front of Lydia and pulled her into a tight hug, one she was too surprised to even return. "You're here!" Malia cried.
"Nothing gets by you," Lydia said through a forced smile.
"Why are you here? It's too soon, you just got out of Eichen House-"
Lydia's hand flew up and clamped down over Malia's mouth. "Don't say that out loud," she snapped. "People already look like they are afraid of me, they all think I'm crazy."
Malia smirked and pushed Lydia's hand away. "They are afraid of you, you're hot and you're amongst hormonal awkward high school boys. It's to be expected, they're afraid of me too." Malia was trying not to concentrate on the strong scent of anxiety that hovered around Lydia or the rapid beat of her heart that pounded up into Malia's ears. She wanted to be happy to see her friend, but she couldn't stop herself from being worried.
Lydia rolled her eyes, "I'm serious Malia."
"So am I," Malia retorted.
Lydia took a deep breath and gave a genuine smile, on she hadn't used since Stiles had left the night she got home. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was good enough then. Good enough to give Malia the slightest bit of reassurance. She was acting confident, whether or not she actually was hadn't yet been determined. The bell rung and as Malia grunted at the prospect of sitting in an uncomfortable chair for an hour, Lydia was looking forward to a distraction. "Let's go, we have math," she said as she took off down the hallway only to find Malia still planted in front of the lockers.
"Geography I get, English I get, even history but math is so completely useless. All the numbers and the lines. You know last Tuesday, Sydney was arguing with the teacher over whether the answer was seventy two or seventy four and guess what I got? One thousand, two hundred and sixty."
Lydia sighed and snatched Malia's hand with a firm grip. "Great, well at least we will be in the same mood then."
Much to Lydia's annoyance, Malia had texted both Stiles and Scott as soon as they sat down in math. Both had met the girls at the door once class was over, Stiles was both happy to see Lydia but confused as to why she was already back at school so soon.
The hallways were bumbling so close to the end of lunch. There were people walking this direction and that in predictable ways as if cords from the ceiling guided them in the only configuration the tracks on the ceiling would allow. Each one had a goal in mind and a destination to get to, so no one looked lost. The crowd flowed like a river, never stopping when things were in the way, only swerving around them. That river was contaminated by cans, oil and crumpled up food wrappers coated in so much grease there are little rings of rainbow water sloshing underneath. Lydia had never felt claustrophobic at school before, it was as if the students had doubled since she had been there last. She had been going to Beacon Hills High School since she was fourteen and yet in that moment everything felt foreign to her. There is not one person who doesn't fear being closed in and locked away or trapped in darkness too thick to cut through, it's natural, no one wants to be alone no matter how much they might beg for it. Lydia was in an overcrowded corridor and yet she felt completely alone. She could feel people brushing against her with a mix of cotton, satin or bare skin and each one frustrated her no less than the others. She reached down and clasped onto Stiles' hand so she wouldn't lose him and just allowed him to guide her through the crowd. She managed to relax knowing where she was, Stiles was her grounding point, and the feeling of his hand clasped onto hers meant he didn't want to lose her just as much as she didn't want to be lost.
Suddenly, someone crashed into Lydia in their hurry to not drop the hoard of textbooks they had clasped in their arms and her connection to Stiles broke and he was gone.
Then Lydia was in a box buried deep. She could feel the pressure of the earth around her, closing and trying to engulf the already cracked wood. There was a hole on the side of the box but through it she saw nothing by the inky black of powdered mud and soil. There was a banging on the side of the box from moles trying to dig right through because they were too dumb and blind to realize it was wood and they would have never been able to penetrate it. Lydia began to thrash around trying to break the box, exactly what she was criticizing the mole for doing. Her right hand went numb and her fingers hung in their broken state and became useless to her. She threw herself against the box one more time and it burst open. Like a balloon under a foot it just popped and she was back in the hallway, disoriented and dizzy.
"Lydia?" It was Malia standing in front of her, her eyebrows knitted together in a scarf of confusion across her forehead. Visions flashed across Lydia's vision too fast for her to understand, there was a hypnotic motion to the way they moved but each one was grizzly. Scenes of death in all different mediums, blood, water, bruises, fire. She was surrounded by doom and she could feel each last breath of life against her skin. Then it was as if she couldn't take it anymore, her face contorted and Malia with a look of concern appear as more of a threat than a friend. Lydia looked at her as a cop would a murderer, she couldn't help herself but feel every bad thing Malia had ever done. Every life, every sacrifice, every injury. Lydia's eyes narrowed and her teeth pressed tight together, melding the top and bottom rows into one. She didn't have long nails but what she did have reached out and dug into Malia's wrists purposely trying to break the skin.
"Lydia, let me go," Malia hissed, she tried to keep her voice low. The hallway was still busy, but Lydia didn't move. Instead she held on tighter and with every bit of strength she had, she shoved Malia to the ground. The bell rung again and the crowds began to clear, but some stragglers stopped and stared as Lydia kneeled above Malia, her read hair dangling down into her face like sharp whiskers. Malia's next moves were almost graceful, enchanting to watch if it was you she was after. She propped her leg up and swung it around so it hit Lydia in the side and knocked her off balance. She kicked her again under her chest and Lydia fell to the side desperately gasping for air. Malia shouted at the students who stood gawking in the hallway and they scattered upon her domineering demand. Lydia moved to get up but Malia was quicker, she hadn't even regained her breath when Malia smacked her and sent her right back to the ground.
"You don't want to fight me," Malia growled. "You won't win."
At her house Lydia had a gas stove. She would flick the dial and a flame would ignite underneath the purple kettle. Inside the water would heat and start to boil and bubble and soon enough the kettle would scream bloody murder until it was taken off the burner. Lydia felt like the fire in my gas stove when she began to scream, igniting a burst of pain inside Malia that started in between her eyes and then began to move around like a spiked tire in her brain. It was when Malia couldn't even scream herself anymore that Lydia stopped. As soon as she closed her mouth Malia buckled over and vomited blood onto the floor. Her back arched and her throat was strained as all her stomach muscles contracted violently. Blood trickled from her ears like dark red paint down a canvas. The scream wasn't powerful, Lydia didn't want to kill Malia but she wanted to scare her as much as the voices in her own head terrified her. In fact, Lydia fought the desire to do any real damage, it was as if she was being controlled. As if a possession had taken hold and wanted her to do evil things.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway, Stiles led with Kira and Scott right behind him. Malia began to shake, her control over her body too had vanished and the primal coyote inside her took over. Her eyes flashed to brilliant blue as fangs slashed out of her gums and howled towards Lydia. It took her a second to actually take off, her balance was shot but once she somewhat orientated herself, there was no stopping her. Malia threw her body weight behind her fist, which at first didn't look like much but it hit Lydia's jaw hard enough blood pooled inside her mouth. Malia's fist was sharp and bony against Lydia's face with the impact of a hundred venomous needles.
In truth Lydia didn't want to fight, there was no need for it. She could almost hear Scott's voice inside her head but her conscious was drowned out by everything else racing through her mind. There should be no infighting, they were in the same pack, they were family. They would hurt each other for no reason. Nobody would win. They would both get in trouble and they would both be injured for nothing. But Lydia was out of control, her body was in defence mode and despite the actual danger being internal, the only thing that felt productive was to fight, even if she wasn't even fighting her enemy.
She saw the glaze across Malia's eyes, and it scared her to think what would have happen had Malia been human without the ability to heal quickly. Malia hit her again and once more, but after she missed several times in between and hit the floor instead.
Suddenly her body was thrown off Lydia like a ragdoll and she went skidding across the floor.
"What the hell?" Scott's voice boomed. Fires of fury blasted from his eyes that glowed with the intimidating redness of his true alpha form. His hand was tensed and he held Malia up against the wall until the blue faded from her eyes and her claws retracted.
Stiles dropped down beside Lydia. Her heart banged against her ribs, fast and unrhythmic. She thought at first Stiles' voice repeating her name was just another voice in her head until his hand pressed lightly on her back and helped her sit up. She just at the sudden gentle touch, she whipped around, unwilling to keep fighting but prepared if she needed to. "Hey, it's okay," his voice was comforting even before she could register who it was. She released a breath and dropped her forehead onto Stiles' shoulder. Her defences had quickly become paper, paper that was being soaked by rapidly falling briny drops of sweat. Before she could even think about what she was doing she melted into him. She could feel his firm torso and the rapid beating of his own heart. His hands folded around Lydia as he looked nervously to Scott.
"What is going on?" Scott put so much emphasis on his words they came out scratchy and more harsh than he meant to. As soon as the blue had faded from Malia's eyes and she regained control Scott let go and stepped back. Concern consumed is face when he noticed the blood smeared around Malia's mouth and ears.
"I'm sorry!" Lydia squeaked. Her eyes met Malia's but quickly shut with shame and remorse. "I'm sorry. Malia I didn't mean…"
"Lydia what happened just then?" Malia's voice turned soft, she knew Lydia would never do anything to hurt any of her pack. She also knew that Eichen had done permanent damage to her friend and it pained her to see what was happening to Lydia, something that none of them could really fix.
"I don't know, it was as if I could see everything all at once, sense every emotion everyone around me was feeling, every secret, every sin, every pain," Lydia paused and looked from Scott to Kira to Malia and then to Stiles who was looking at her, scared and she hated to see that look in his eyes. It was quiet for a moment. Everyone exchanged glances with each other except Lydia. She didn't want to be there. She wanted to be somewhere far away all by herself but she had spent too much time alone to ever feel comfortable like that again. She didn't want to die but she wanted to feel like she had, to face the punishment of what she had done. She could have killed Malia just then and she would never forgive herself for that, just like the many other times she had put the people she loved in danger. Her chest tightened when she saw the way Scott and Kira were supporting Malia, as if she wasn't able to stand on her own. "Malia, I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," Malia said shaking her head.
"We should go," Scott stated, taking most of Malia's weight as Kira examined the blood drying in her ears.
A panic surged through Lydia. "I can't go home," she blurted.
"No, you aren't," said Scott. His eyes softened upon meeting Lydia's. "First, Stiles you should take Lydia to the hospital, her nose might be broken."
Stiles tilted Lydia's chin up and examined her injuries. "It doesn't look broken," he reported. "But this cut might need some stitches." Stiles pointed to the cut of Lydia's cheekbone from one of Malia's punches.
"I'm fine," Lydia sighed, pushing Stiles away and moving to get up.
"Lydia," Kira whispered.
"I said I'm fine!"
"Well you don't look fine," Stiles said crossing his arms in front of his chest as he rose with Lydia.
"Well then stop looking!" Lydia shouted, Stiles then looked at her in that moment in a way she never wanted to be looked at, he pitied her.
"We need to go," Scott hissed nervously as he scanned the halls. "People will have heard Lydia scream and Malia's growling and someone will come looking to see what it was. Let's go to the clinic, maybe Deaton has some answers."
Everyone nodded in weary agreement, which Scott seemed to lighten slightly at. He tightened his grip on Malia and led the group down the hall towards the side door of the school that led out to the parking lot. Lydia wrapped her arms around herself, but managed to find a little comfort in the watchful eye Stiles had on her when she refused his physical support. There was a pit in her stomach, churning and twisting. Somehow she knew Eichen House would not be the scariest situation she would ever be in, but she was about to find out what that would be.