Hey everyone! It's Meg. Been a long time since an update so if anyone's still around, here ya go!

July 19th, 2012

Yes, I "got a minute," I have a lot of minutes. Life is an endless parade of miniscule minutes that all add up to a huge, absurd amount of time, time, time.

But no, Derek Hale, I do not "got a minute" for a red eye alpha who most likely hates my guts for bringing back to life his evil uncle, who, no, I would not like to talk about.

I gave Derek a smirk of my own, "Please get your grubby hand off my priceless doorframe."

Derek removes his hand and crosses his arms, "We need to talk."

"Hmm," I place my hand on my chin and use one finger to tap my cheek, "I don't remember scheduling a talk with a grumpy bitch for this evening…" I let loose another smile and remember that Derek's the one who made Jackson into my nightmare. I hum thoughtfully, "Now if you'll excuse me…" I shove past him and slam my front door behind me, "I was supposed to meet your favorite non-beta a few minutes ago and I don't want him to come looking for me and see you giving off the wrong impression." Derek rolls his eyes but lets me pass.

I slide into my car and wave quickly to a grouchy Derek Hale, who straightens his leather jacket in an effort to keep his cool. Derek, quite frankly, should really acquire a larger wardrobe.

…

I sashay my way up to Scott's porch and ring the doorbell with a long, polished nail.

When no one opens the door, I ring the doorbell a second time and glance around. What if Derek decided to follow me? What if Peter is hiding in those bushes right over there? What if-

I take a deep breath. "It's ok, it's ok" is the song in my head. Easy repetition. I roll back my shoulders and knock on the door. No sweet smile of Stiles greets me nor a bright eyed Scott offering to take my coat and make popcorn. Okay, then. I'll just come in, McCall.

I place my hand on the doorknob and get the strongest urge to leave. I gasp and try to breathe through the heavy dizzy spell. I knock on the door again. "Scott?" I question weakly, concentrating on my breathing. I place my hand back on the knob and turn.

I am so relieved to have done so and be out of the open outside, I step inside immediately and try to see past the dots swirling in front of my eyes. I blink, blink, blink and red. I swear to God there is so much red that my heart must have burst and smeared the world in a color so bright it hurts to stare, but it is everywhere. Blood red on the soft couch and blood red on the smooth wood floor and splashed across the walls and open doorways and the kitchen table and overhead lights, casting a dim red light and holy shit - a red so bright, it smells like your worst fear.

I smell blood and it overwhelms my entire being. I wish for the dizzy spell to return so the black spots would cover this red.

I blink, blink, blink, but it does not fade. I see red and I need to breathe but I can't, I cannot.

Where is Stiles?

I walk further into this red house because where is Stiles?

My feet squash on the ground and I do not want to fall, do not want to slip in this red mess of red, red, red, and where is Stiles?

The stair railing is coated in red and I do not notice until my hand lands on the color of fear and in a moment of clarity I lift my hand and stare at it's new skin of red and it is blood, and I, well I, let out a bloodcurdling yell of fear or anger or warning and red is in my veins.

Silence after my scream lasts for several moments before I hear, "fuck."

I breathe deeply to calm down but I inhale red and shiver.

"Lydia? Lydia?" I turn in a slow circle in response and look to see Scott approaching me with his hands raised. "Lydia, it's Scott."

"I know it's you, Scott. I'm not blind." Clearly. "Why is there so much red? Is it all in my head?"

"Lydia," Scott has reached me now, both of us standing in the doorway to the living room, "Lydia, it's animal blood. We think it's the Alpha Pack trying to scare us. Derek went over to your house to warn you not to come over."

"Oh," I try to focus on Scott's words but it's a little hard to when he is covered head to toe in a color that chills me to the bone. "Why are you so red?"

He glances down at his bloodstained clothes and winces, "I slip when I first walked in. I'm trying to clean it all up before I take a shower."

"Oh," I look down at my hands, blood and red, "where's Stiles?"

"Lydia? Oh shit," The voice of sweet Stiles reaches my ears and he walks into the room from behind Scott, coming to me quickly, "Are you okay? Let's go outside." His hands, properly clean unlike mine, land on my shoulders, spin me and push me back out the front door.

The fresh air soothes me and I take in a deep breath and place my hands on my knees, gasping from the air's purity. Stiles rubs my back in calming circles, muttering about Derek promising to keep me away. I push the images of red stained Scott from my mind and am feeling really quite better until I remove my hands from my knees and see bloodstained hand marks on my pants.

"Stiles," He stops his muttering and focuses on me, "Stiles, please get it off." I shove my hands in his view, and his eyes sweep from them down to my knees and he grabs ahold of my shoulders again and helps me down the porch steps, around the house until we come to the hose on the side of Scott's home. I am having trouble breathing again and I wish it wasn't so bad but it is and I sink against the wall of the house and squeeze my eyes shut and sit on the grass and concentrate on happy things but the only happy things I can think of are red.

"Here, Lydia, give me your hands," My eyes closed, I blindly push my hands in front of me and a warm hand holds them nicely, "I'm going to use the water from the hose to clean them, okay?" And the warm hand that took mine rubs circles on my palms as warm water rushes from the hose onto my red skin. Stiles does this with both hands and then informs me that he's going to run inside "really, really quick" and grab new pants for me. I hear his shoes squash the grass as he runs inside and I keep my eyes closed so I can't see the hand shaped red on my pants because I really have seen all the red I can for a lifetime. I hear Stiles come back and he helps me stand up because I refuse to open my eyes and I'm not even sure I can after having them together so tightly.

"Lydia, you're going to have to change in my car. Scott's still scrubbing the floors. Can you open your eyes so you can get in the car and change?"

My eyes slowly open, and I take in the green grass, and the blazing pink sunset, and Stiles' blue jeep in front of me. My eyes move to Stiles' hands, holding a pair of grey shorts, and they move up to a worried Stiles, and I really can't take his worry for me anymore. I don't want to be a cripple to this fear, I really don't. All I do is make him sad and it isn't fair because all he does is make me happy and I hurt him every time he sees me struggle to breathe because of this fear of red that has managed to worm it's way everywhere.

I take the grey shorts and open the door to the backseat as Stiles turns his back to his car to give me privacy. He'll probably wait for me to change and stand guard in case I freak out. And then what happens, I wonder. I peel off my pants in the cramped backseat. Does he take me home and tuck me into bed? Does he call me later to make sure I'm still conscious and not overrun by images of red? I do not want to be thought of as a burden or unstable, though that may be what I am (still to be determined).

This fear of red must end.