xviii. somethings you just can't speak about

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chapter eighteen ━ shock to the system & superfreakseason seven, episode two & three

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chapter eighteen shock to the system
& superfreak
season seven, episode two & three

❝ did i just walk into
a coming of age movie?



When Aliya was a baby her mother thought she was the wrong one. Mainly because she read in the paper of children getting swapped around in the nursery. But, the main reason to her thought process was that her first two children were perfect. Perfect temperament. Perfect drawings that were hung on the fridge. Perfect sleepers.

Something Aliya was not. She was nocturnal as a baby. She stayed up screaming all night that drove her mother to insanity. Her mother did, however forget to mention the colic part of the story but, who was Aliya to correct her.

That certain characteristic of being an insomniac carried over as Aliya grew up, even though when she was a baby, it was mainly illness induced.

It might have something to do with the amount of coffee she consumed but, Aliya would never give up her coffee. So, it was no surprise that after the shooting, Aliya couldn't sleep.

No amount of concealer, eye cream or colour corrector could conceal the dark circles that adorned her under eyes. She just simply lay awake at night with her childhood walkman (that Alex claimed was outdated, but she found it incredibly comforting).

At around two in the morning, Aliya reached blindly over to her bedside table, turning the lamp on.

She blinked a few times, her eyes readjusting as the noise she heard just a few seconds before sounded again over her music, loud enough that even her ear phones blasting music didn't block it out.

The brunette tugged one out, her face strained as she paused to see if she could hear anything. When there was nothing, she assumed it was just a cat screaming or going feral, but her hand paused with the ear phone again as the noise sounded.

(Spoiler Alert! It was definitely not a cat.)

Aliya took the other ear phones out, and slipped out of bed. Not worrying about the cold hardwood floor in her bare feet, she pulled back the creaky door to look out and down the corridor, the tree out front sending reflections from the window and out onto the hallway walls.

She narrowed her eyes at the continuing screams, padding further down the corridor, searching for the source of the noise.

Finally, she grew closer, stopping short in front of Jackson's room, pausing in front of his door as the scream appeared yet again through the wood.

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