The Banshee In Question

Chapter 1: Break/Hands

If there was any particular feeling Lydia hated most, it was the feeling of being weak. To be afraid, to beg for mercy, to have others sympathize for her. It was strange, because these days, she couldn’t seem to get enough of that feeling. It made her loathe herself, and that felt necessary right now. The pain was the only thing that was real anymore, and Lydia knew she deserved it. She was guilty of so many things, unpunished for so many horrible things she’d done; like letting her best friend die. Knowing it was going to happen, trying to warn her friends but not obvious enough. If she’d just been a little clearer…

            “Lydia, are you even listening to me?” She’d almost entirely forgotten that Kira was in her room.

            Lydia shook herself out of her stupor. “What?”

            “I swear, your head is always up in the clouds.” Kira went back to playing with Lydia’s green nail polish, running the wet brush along her pinky finger. She didn’t even see the annoyed twist of Lydia’s lips.

            Her head was most certainly not in the clouds always, in fact, it was actually a new thing. She didn’t expect Kira to realize that, as she hadn’t been around all that long. The only people that should be realizing something was off about her hadn’t an idea.

            Of course, Lydia didn’t bother saying as much. She genuinely liked Kira, but it wasn’t like with Allison. It would never be like with Allison.

            “Hey, what’s this?” Kira asked curiously. “For Lydia?”

            Lydia’s head shot up, but she already knew what she was going to see before it did.

            Kira shook the box, a heaviness cluttering around inside. “Is this a present from a guy?” Suddenly, Kira was entirely interested. “Who is he and can I open it!?” She rocked the bed excitedly, prepared to pull off the lid once Lydia gave her permission.

            “No!” Lydia sprung up from her spot on the floor, prying the box from Kira’s fingers and holding it to her chest protectively. They shared an intense gaze, Kira’s shocked and offended while Lydia’s was defensive and panicked.

            There was no time for Kira to ask what the hell that was about because Scott had walked through the door, breaking the stillness of the room and oblivious to the tension that it just held.

            “You ladies ready to go?” He was driving them to school today, but upon arriving at his friend’s, realized he desperately needed to empty his bladder. While the girls hung out in Lydia’s bedroom he took his sweet time in the bathroom, ultimately going to make them late for school.

            Kira cleared her throat, eyes shuddering away from Lydia’s, “Are we scooping up Malia?” She pulled at the threading of her long-sleeves, “She stole Donnie Russo’s sandwich on the bus last time… I don’t think she’s ready to handle that 10 minute ride on her own.”

            “Stiles will take her,” Scott relayed in the most obvious fashion he could seem to muster.

            Lydia hid her grumble of disappointment. If it was so evident to Scott that Stiles would be looking after Malia, maybe their secret “thing” wasn’t such a secret after all. Knowing their very close friendship, it made sense that Stiles would tell Scott about his romantic feelings for the werecoyote. She’d never be connected with them the way they were with each other.

            Remaining silent as she followed them out to Scott’s car, her thoughts took her places far away from here and now. She’d always been someone with a lengthy train of thought, one that could wind and tangle into any complex jumble of word salad, but it didn’t used to take her such dreary places. Her head was in a much darker room now, small and cramped and dark, like running your hands alone the cement walls of a cellar trying to find a light switch. Something to turn on the lights, to spark something within her that captivated her interest in anything that she could cherish that would appreciate her in the same way. She just wanted to feel wanted again, to feel like she was actually grounded on this plane and not caught in the clock tower that was her brain.