Lydia

[05]

WARNING*- Mature content, including vulgar language, talks/ attempts of suicide, and trigger themes.

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Finn slowly set the photo down back on the ledge of the fire place. With tears threatening to spill and a shaky breath he stepped away from the spot he once stood.

Finn wanted to break down; he wanted so badly just to kneel down and cry. Cry until there were no tears left. Cry until his cheeks were stained in salt water and saliva clog his throat. Finn could feel the tears welling in his eyelids as his vision started to blur.

It didn't snow much in the small town in Georgia. The blizzard of 96 was huge and it covered the ground with blankets and blankets of snow. Powdery flakes of snow stuck to Finn's hair that day and Finn could remember vividly the cold that snuck its way through the cracks of Finn's jacket and caused goosebumps to rise on his skin.

Finn remembered the smile that graced Lydia's face and he remember the giggle that floated through the winter air that escaped Lydia's lips like it was yesterday. But thinking about the whole day, not just Lydia's giggle. The whole day felt like it was ages ago; like the day was so far gone that Finn struggled to remember the color of his sister's hair or the shade of his mother's iris's.

But before Finn could break down and cry because of the lost memories of the past the distant sound of the doorbell stopped him. Finn slowly looked up from the wooden floor towards the front door with furrowed eyebrows.

Finn stepped towards the door before swinging it open, his eyes widened.

Lydia stood there on the concrete steps with a small smile. She wore a hoodie the color of the sunset when it dripped into the dark of the purplish pink and jeans that looked old and torn. Her lips were pulled into a small smile that looked some what forced, but Finn wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the small tear that slid down her eyes leaving a trail of salt water in its wake.

"Lydia?" Finn barely whispered with a frown etched on his face. Lydia looked to the side, trying her best to hide the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" Finn spoke again before she quickly turned to him with lips flattened into a line and eyes glossy with tears.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked quietly with a groggy, shaky voice.

"Lydia, I don't know what you're talking about," Finn said holding the door open so she could step inside. Lydia nodded her head before stepping in after Finn to which he shut the door gently behind her.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're father hits you?" Lydia suddenly asked now looking directly into Finn's eyes.

Finn was speechless he didn't think she'd ever find out. Although she saw the cuts and bruises on his arms the day she stopped him from...well.

Lydia hadn't mentioned anything about it making Finn think that she had just not noticed it while being overwhelmed with the thought that her best friend tried to take his own life.

"I was going too..." Finn started but quickly realized that that was a lie on its own. Lydia shook her head frantically before opening her mouth to speak.

"How could I have not known. I mean the cuts and bruises on your arms I thought you had done to yourself, but then I realized that you would never intently hurt yourself with a blade because your irrational fear of knives." Lydia stated as Finn nodded knowing he'd never come near himself with a blade.

"And I wondered how you could've punched yourself because that just seemed quite bizarre." Lydia paused with a confused expression etched on her face. "But then I remembered that you once told me that when you're mother and sister died your father was never the same, I didn't know what that meant until now."