There is a figure by the door. His voice sounds like an engine sputtering. His hands are cold claws and his eyes are red pits. It's cold underground. Figures swim in tanks, curled up like underdeveloped children, clinging to a tube that gives them life. The door creaks as it shuts. There is a cold clang as the frame meets the metal door. There is a girl, naked, covered in a sheet, lying stretched out on a grimy table. Her hair pools around her like black blood, her mouth is a faded break in her porcelain face. She is dead. Lydia doesn't don't know how I know this, but she does. The girl is too still, too quiet, and although I cannot feel her, I know she is cold. Something is terribly off about this. The figure by the door turns as two more clunk across the room towards the table. All three of them stand around the sides of the table with Lydia at the head. She is paralyzed with fear, even though the tall metal figures cannot see her. Something is so so wrong. Lydia can feel her pulse in her fingertips and there is a sharp metallic taste on her tongue. She doesn't want to stay in the dank basement and see what will happen. She wants to leave, but she cannot move her feet.
The tallest of the metal men fills a large syringe with a silvery blue fluid, watching the fluid fill the stem almost lovingly. One of the other figures flings back the sheet. For a moment, Lydia's vision is white before the sheet falls to the ground, floating through the air like the petals of a peace lily. There is a gaping hole in the young girls stomach, the edges of the wound clean and precise. Lydia's heart pounds like a drum. She fights the urge to throw up. She feels like she is going to drown in her own bile.
The largest doctor with the syringe taps it gently before leaning over the girls frail, dead figure. Then he plunges the syringe into her chest, with more force than necessary, squeezing until all of the silver-blue fluid has entered the girl's body. For a moment, nothing happens, then the girl begins to convulse. Black fluids run from her mouth and nose. Her eyelids flutter wildly, her hands claw at the table for purchase and then all at once- she falls still again. Her skin begins to plump again and color rushes to her cheeks. Her dry hair becomes shiny and dark. The skin of her torso ripples as it stitches itself over the hole in her. She sits up, the fluids running down her face and neck. Slowly, she opens her eyes. Immediately Lydia recognizes that something isn't right with her features. Her wide, clear eyes are a deep maroon, so dark and red that they are almost black.
Lydia's eyes meet hers and finally her mouth opens in a scream that she can't hold back. She screams and screams in horror, barely hearing the words that the doctor whispers into the girls ear.
"Scott McCall. Find him. Kill him."
When Lydia wakes up the next day, she can't remember all the details of the dream. She vaguely remembers the girl, and the metal figures torturing her. She feels the horror that she felt during the dream and remembers the scream she released in her dream, unable to contain her shock and fear.
The drive to school is normal, or as normal as you can get for Beacon Hills. Senior year has barely begun and already the pack has been thrust into danger again. Why is it that danger never wants to play during summer break? Scott's life has been threatened, Liam can barely keep the shift under control near the full moon, and a young boy named Theo who Lydia vaguely remembers from my her childhood, is trying to insert himself into Scott's life. Her mind feels like it's been rung out like a wet rag having spent too many nights unable to sleep, worried that they are all on the path to destruction all over again. Luckily, Lydia only has one class for her senior year, giving her plenty of time to think about things. Too much time, really.
As she rounds the corner, Lydia nearly runs into Stiles and Malia, leaning against the wall, Stiles' arm slung over her shoulder, Malia's head thrown back in a laugh. Lydia's heart aches in a way that she desperately wishes it wouldn't. Malia is a beacon of strength. Despite her horrific past, she perseveres, always pushing herself to continue and learn, although exploring her humanity is not always her strong point. Lydia admires Malia and she refuses to make an enemy of her simply because she is jealous. Stiles deserves happiness and she will not be the one to take it from him. Besides, she's had her chance. Lydia would never admit it, but she fears that she will always be connected to death and destruction, and she has no desire to bring anyone else her bad luck. Her distance from the pack is fueled by love, no matter how painful it feels.
Lydia tries to slip past Stiles and Malia without being noticed, but Stiles is practiced at spotting the small red-head in the busy crowd. "Lydia!" Stiles shouts. Malia's laugh tapers off, but her smile is still there as she follows Stiles as he pursues Lydia.
"Can't chat, you guys. I have to get to class! Then I'm meeting someone for lunch!" Lydia shouts over her shoulder. Malia follows her down the hallway, slipping between people, easily until her hands rest on Lydia's shoulder. When she comes to a stop, Malia rests her chin on Lydia's shoulder, looking up at her with her chocolate colored eyes.
"What?" Lydia asks, raising her eyebrows. "What is it?"
"Stiles thinks that we should all be sticking together. Especially since he's paranoid that things are going to go badly now that we've had a few months free of the supernatural." Malia responds, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Stiles.
"Yeah, well, that's because I have a bad feeling. How many times have my bad feelings been completely reasonable and led to actual problems unfolding. I'll tell you! Every time. Okay? Remember Matt?" Stiles says, putting his hands out in a pleading gesture, spastic and determined. "I know you guys don't think I have any reason to be suspicious and anxious, but come on, how many times have my hunches been correct?"
"Do I really have to answer that?" Lydia asks him. She tries to sound light and joking, but in all honesty, Lydia has had a bad feeling about things lately too. Lydia withholds this information, not wanting to worry anyone until she knows that something is wrong. However, she trusts Stiles' instincts almost more than her own. He has a very perceptive eye for evil.
"Lydia. Please tell me you don't think this is ridiculous." He responds. Malia saves Lydia from responding by sniffing the air, a look of blank concentration on her face. She smells something from a distance.
"Theo is here. We should probably continue this elsewhere." She says, grabbing Stiles by the elbow and steering him in the opposite direction. Lydia distinctly hears the phrase 'I'm not afraid of him' followed by 'He's a looooot bigger than you.'
Sure enough, Theo rounds the corner. Lydia avoids his eyes, but he still spots her, waving.. The bell rings loudly and Lydia rushes into class, setting her books down on the table next to Scott and Kira's, but neither of them are there yet. The room smells like chemicals and sterile fluids. Something about it triggers a memory. Lydia see a flash of metal, glowing red eyes, and tastes blood. The sensation leaves almost as soon as it comes and Lydia is left feeling dizzy.. Scott enters the classroom and gently places a hand on her shoulder.
"Lydia. Are you okay?" He asks quietly. Kira suggests a trip to the school nurse, but Lydia refuses.
"I'm fine. I'm fine! I'm just tired okay?" She snaps. Lydia takes a deep breath, feeling ashamed of her cold response, but she is confused and upset and she can't even figure out why. People are beginning to stare, so she takes her seat and pushes her long hair back from her shoulders. For the rest of the class Lydia feels shaky and sick. When class ends Lydia rushes out the door to her car. She doesn't feel anything alarming under the surface of her mind. Closing her eyes, she tries to clear her head. No screams rise, no images flash through her head. It's not until she gets home, after lunch with Parrish that she finally senses something. When Lydia looks up from her homework, something catches her eye. It's the silver tipped arrow mounted on her wall. Chris gave it to her when Allison passed away as a sort of remembrance gift. This time, instead of a pang of sadness, Lydia feels a pang of fear as she looks at it. Just like that, it's like a switch has been flipped. She is thrown into a vision of the dream she had the night before, except this time, as the images flash past her at breakneck speed, she is able to catch all the details. This time as the girl sits up on the table, her face dripping blood, her eyes glowing a deep maroon, Lydia recognizes her. It's her.
It's Allison. She is alive.