#aidenanomaly

Taking a sip of her iced tea, Lydia double checked the last problem on her chemistry homework. She had set up on the floor in the living room with the book and settled in to re-learn a bunch of work. It was ridiculously easy to figure out everything, she barely even needed to read the chapter to finish her work. The real problem was that Aiden knew she was smarter than she let on. How had he figured that out? No one, except her teachers and maybe Danny, knew how smart she really was. Lydia was very careful to keep that fact hidden away, like most other things.

Closing her eyes and shaking her head a little, she tried to make the faint whispers shut up. She didn't know what they meant or where they were coming from, but they came and went frequently. The fact that Scott had mentioned them worried her a bit, seeing as both Allison and Aiden had warned her to stay away from him. Even though no one had bothered to tell her why, just like no one bothered to tell her anything of importance. It was seriously starting to piss her off. Lydia wanted answers and she wanted them now.

Well, she and Aiden were more than just friends, right? He obviously missed her. A part of her felt bad for wanting to exploit that, but her need to know was stronger than her guilt. Lydia didn't even know the guy, knew next to nothing about him except he was cute, had a twin brother, and apparently thought 'werewolves' was a funny excuse. Whatever. She would get the information she wanted and after she had her memories back she could feel bad. Maybe. If what he was saying was true. It didn't seem likely, though. From what she'd seen of him, Aiden was a good guy and that really wasn't her type.

[text] What the hell are these?

[picture attached] [picture attached] [picture attached] [picture attached]

[text] My phone is filled with pictures of us but if your name hadn't been in here I wouldn't even remember it.

Everything was numb.

Lydia was kneeling in the grass outside the Hale house, the fire still burning behind her. She could barely smell the smoke, but it felt like it was suffocating her, overwhelming her senses, leaving it so there was nothing but the feeling was all around her and inside her.

That must have been what Scott felt.

With that thought Lydia felt another sob wrack her body. Curling in on herself, her arms tightening around her waist, she felt like she was physically trying to hold herself together. Her phone buzzed somewhere in the distance, where she’d thrown it in a fit of anger. Most likely her friends were responding to the hysteric text she’d sent out. She’d told them where to go, though. There was no reason for her to try and respond. It’s not like her hands could stop shaking enough to reply anyway. Somewhere between here and her car were her heels, but Lydia could bring herself to care about them. Who needed a pair of heels when Scott was… Scott was…

Scott was dead.

Letting out a small half cry, half scream of frustration, Lydia ran her hands through her hair roughly and held on. She kept replaying his voice over and over in her head. She’d been there, right there, and couldn’t save him. It was all her fault. Leaning forward until she was curled up on the ground, Lydia let a few more cries escape into the grass. Surely someone would show up eventually. They’d worry about the texts or hear her scream and come to get her. Because without help she’s sure she’d never leave this spot. With a slightly hysterical laugh, she let out a small whisper.

Everything was dark. A grating sound could be heard in the distance, a soft crunch accompanying it. Lydia felt as if she was being pushed in on from all sides, the air being forced out of her lungs by some unknown force. In the distance there was a soft ringing that started growing louder and louder until it was all Lydia could hear. 

"RO!" She sat up in bed with a start, one hand flying to her throat in an attempt to stop the scream from rising. Her head was spinning slightly, the effects of the alcohol from last night had mostly worn off by now. Now that she could think more clearly, her mind had been able to sort through the things she heard last night. Rowena, their English teacher, the only other Banshee Lydia knew, was dead.

Standing up on shaky legs, Lydia rushed out of her room and to the kitchen for some water. Nearly dropping the glass because of how shaky her hands were, Lydia let out a frustrated huff and slammed her hands on the counter. Leaning forward, she propped herself up on her elbows and covered her face with her hands. The screams were back, the whispers following her around.