Luring Lyra | Creepypasta Fanmade Spin-off [COMPLETED]

8.

Warning: drug use

~

Tok, tok, tok

"What."

Connie peeked her head into her son's room, her face plastered with her sweet smile. As of now, it was just the two of them in the house. Furious that his car had been taken, Frank had left the house in a rage, most likely to go to the pub (Connie had refused to give him the keys to her car, so he had left on foot). Now, having finished her work, Connie found herself with nothing to do except wait for her daughter to come home. She was hoping to spend this time with Toby.

"Wanna watch The Great British Baking Show with me?" Connie offered. "We still have time till Lyra comes home; maybe she can join us then."

Toby rolled their eyes.

"Can't you s-see I'm b-busy, Mom?" he scoffed bitterly. "I need my sp-pace - besides, Troy's gon-na call me s-soon. If you were a good m-mom, y-y-you'd leave me alone when I'd ask you t-to instead of b-barging in and dem-manding I spend time with you."

Connie felt as though she had been punched in the gut. She had just wanted to spend some quality time with her child. Nevertheless, she left Toby's room, encouraging him to ask if they needed something.

It hurt Connie that Toby didn't like spending time with his family, but she tried to give them the space he needed. She loved her son, and she was being the best mother she could. But she wished she could reach her child.

Two episodes into the show, and Connie was getting worried. The drive only took ten minutes: Lyra should have been home by now. Where was she? Had Frank's car hit a flat tire? Perhaps an accident was worsening traffic? Connie tried calling Lyra's cell twice, but she didn't answer.

At last, Connie was considering calling the police when she heard the front door open behind her. By now, it had been an hour and a half after Lyra should have been home. Connie was relieved to see her in the doorway, but as she took in her daughter's appearance, she found herself worried once again. Lyra's hand was clumsily bandaged, and she was wet all down her front. Her face was completely void of any emotion. Something wrapped in wax paper and twine was tucked under her arm.

Connie's heart dropped as she and Lyra locked eyes, and she found herself filled with dread. She had a sinking feeling that something terrible had occured. Had Lyra gotten into another fight?

"You're watching the Baking Show," Lyra said at last in a monotone voice, breaking the tense silence.

Connie turned off the television and stood from her seat on the sofa, approaching Lyra and lifting her hands to her cheeks.

"Baby, what happened?" she asked tenderly.

Lyra's eyes seemed to be glazed over.

"I fell into the stream," she mumbled. Her voice was robotic and rehearsed.

"How?" Connie asked, confused. "Where's the car?"

"Someone slashed the tires during my shift," Lyra answered. "They were gone by the time I found out."

Connie let out a long sigh. She couldn't help but be disappointed. She was glad Lyra was independent, but she wished she would ask for help when she needed it. And on another note, who would slash the tires like that? Connie knew Lyra had made some enemies, but she was still puzzled.

"You should've called me, sweetheart," she said.

"Sorry - "

"No, no, it's okay," Connie said with a forgiving smile. She let go of Lyra's face and took out her cell phone once again. "I'll call the towing company."

Lyra found herself watching her mother for a few moments before stumbling to her bedroom. The events from before were playing over and over again in her mind. After the deed was done, Lyra had stuffed Nico's corpse into a half-filled trash bag and threw it into the dumpster nearby. Then she had patched up her hand with bandages she always carried in her backpack and washed herself in the stream to get rid of the bloodstains before walking home. She had worked like a well-oiled machine, never thinking twice and rarely stopping to catch her breath. It didn't disturb her at all - in fact, she liked it. She liked this sensation of power she felt when having control over those she wanted to cause pain.

Lyra threw her backpack into a corner and dropped the package of missing posters on the desk before heading to her closet. Opening the dresser drawer she hid it in, she fished her hand among the clothes in it until she pulled out a Ziploc bag of what looked like crushed white chalk. After what had happened, she felt like she needed something to take her mind off things.

Tearing off a piece of scrap paper from the journal from her old school supplies, Lyra rolled it up into a tube and dished some of the cocaine into it before carefully stowing the bag back in her drawer. She could already smell the trouble, but she didn't care: she sat next to her bed and snorted it.

~

"Lyra . . . Lyra,"

Lyra moaned as she awoke from her intoxicated slumber. She was lying down on the floor of the living room, her face coated with sweat. In her right hand was her baseball bat. Her mother was sitting over her, squatting down on the floor and shaking her shoulder. She looked furious.

"What," Lyra grumbled.

When Connie spoke, her voice was quiet and slow, making sure Lyra caught every syllable.

"Could you please explain to me why you ran outta your room and proceeded to jump up on the dining room table while yelling gibberish at the top of your goddamn lungs?" she asked, her hazel eyes blazing with anger.

Lyra groaned with annoyance as she sat up and massaged her forehead. Her head was throbbing with pain. She wasn't disappointed in herself at all. She had just wanted the drugs to take her away, to distract her from everything.

"I was high," she said at last.

Connie smacked her palm against her forehead. As for Lyra, she did nothing but roll her eyes. Why did her mother care so much? It was just some coke to get her through the rest of her day, and she didn't even snort it often. Besides, she hadn't broken anything.

"Lyra," Connie said firmly, "if this happens again, I'm taking you to rehab."

Lyra froze. Her mother had never threatened her with that before. If she was away at rehab, how could she protect Connie and Toby from Frank? How could she earn money for them? How could she talk to Winona, Nathan, and Crystal? She couldn't abandon them like that. She couldn't be abandoned.

"Hell no," Lyra snarled.

"I can't have you damaging yourself like this." Connie argued, almost begging her daughter. "Rehab is meant to help you. I'm not able to provide very much for you anymore, and I don't want you going down the wrong path."

Lyra muttered a few choice words under her breath, and Connie frowned.

"I'm giving you one last chance, honey." she said.

"Fuck you," Lyra spat.

Connie sighed.

"I'm gonna take Toby to their doctor's appointment very soon," she said, changing the subject. "We'll be leaving you home alone, so please try not to destroy anything while we're gone."

A lightbulb suddenly went off in Lyra's head. If she took Toby to his doctor's appointment, she would have an opportunity to pass out some flyers while they were getting their monthly checkup.

"I can do it," she offered.

Connie raised an eyebrow.

"Lyra, I'm not even sure if you're not still high," she said sympathetically.

"No, really, I'm fine," Lyra insisted. "Besides, I have something I need to do while Toby's with the doctors."

Connie seemed suspicious, but she dropped it, though bedrudgingly.

"Call me if there are any problems, okay?" she asked after heaving a sigh. "I'll ask Mrs. Lux to drive me there."

Lyra nodded and went to get the stack of flyers before getting changed, fetching Toby, and bidding her mother a tense goodbye.