SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
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status asthmatics
While Parrish had locked himself in a jail cell, the two girls who accompanied him to the station refused to leave, waiting for time to pass, until they figured out a way to stop it, how, the two of them weren't sure, how long they would have to wait, they didn't know, but neither of them had planned on leaving anytime soon, they would sleep here if they had to. And that was what Noah had expected of them, he had set up a makeshift room for the two in one of the interrogation rooms, out of the way of his deputies who might question why Parrish had locked himself up, or why the two teenage girls felt the need to keep him company during that time.
"What's been going on with you?" Lydia questioned the girl with her head laying on the table, a girl who wanted and needed sleep, who was almost drifting off, but was too scared that in those split seconds she closed her eyes the world would come crashing down around her. Kinsey lazily looked up at the redhead, keeping her head on the table as she asked what she meant. "Kinsey. Don't play that game with me. We're better than that." The Banshee lectured her as the brunette pulled herself up with a groan, sinking into her seat. "You haven't been sleeping. I wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and your lights are still on. I can hear the pages of the bestiary flicking. Or you talking to yourself. Something's on your mind and it has been for weeks now. At first, I thought it was what I said to you at senior scribe, and part of me still thinks that it is, but there's something else. Something bigger. Something that's even affecting you and Stiles. Kinsey, talk to me."
"It's nothing." Kinsey shook her head. "There's just a lot going on so I've been a little restless, I'm fine. Once this is all over I'll be fine."
"You were like this before all of this even started." Lydia deadpanned. "And every time you're like this, it's because you're lying, to either yourself or the rest of us. What's so bad that you can't tell me? We tell each other everything. We go through everything together. And we don't judge each other." Lydia listed off the things that had made them so close, things that the brunette knew to be true, or at least at some point they had been.
"You would judge me for this." The brunette blurted out, making it clear there was something to tell. Something big, as the redhead expected. She saw the look on Lydia's face, the one that she had always struggled to ignore, the kind of look that got answers, because nobody could help it, that look made them blurt out even their darkest of secrets. "I- I did something bad. Really bad." Kinsey's voice croaked at the thought of telling her best friend. Thinking of what Lydia had said to her and Stiles earlier. It was always better when they knew. "And I don't think I can be forgiven for this one, Lyds. I really messed up this time."
Lydia shook her head, refusing to believe that whatever she had been allowing to eat herself up was as bad as she was making out, bad enough that she felt as though nobody would forgive her for it. The pack had been through a lot of things together, they had all made mistakes, some had made more than others, but that didn't matter, they were all, mostly, human. It happened, Lydia reminded her of this, it couldn't be that bad. "Unless you're going to tell me you killed someone I think we're fine." Lydia chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood with a little joke, but all that had come from it was complete silence from the girl across the table. Kinsey was choked up, her face riddled with guilt as she looked at her best friend with raw, tearful eyes, watching as Lydia's face dropped, unsure what to say anymore. "Kinsey-" The Banshee muttered, regretting the joke she had made, a joke that had confirmed what the were-angel was scared of, that what she did was so bad that it was unthinkable, used as a joke it was so absurd of her to kill someone. "I didn't- I didn't mean that." Lydia shook her head. "Who- What-" She stammered, unsure where to begin.
