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Synopsis: (Drag Path x The Hand Songfic) Lyra remembers the candy bracelet and the calla lily. The echo of a gun and the warm crimson that puddled at her feet. The memories stuck with her and suffocated her whenever her mind took a wrong turn in the labyrinth she created in order to guard herself from her past. For all the confidence she exudes, she knows the ghost of her 4 year old self remains trapped in that house. And she spirals little by little. (This is a Lyra Angst Fanfiction, it only starts off with Thomas Thomas)
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Drag Path...T H O M A S T H O M A S
Can you...? Can you...? Can you...? Can you...?
Thomas tried not think about the glint of innocence in the little girl's eyes as he resolutely took out the gun. He headed upstairs without looking back.
Apparently she was his little girl. Though he wasn't going to think about that.
What he was carrying out required him to seperate himself from the girl completely. He knew what he was doing was cruel. He questioned if the girl could even carry out what he needed her to.
A drag path etched in the surface... As evidence. I left there on purpose.
He tried not to focus on the pain after the first shot. He was careful as he dragged his hands across the wall of the stairs. He'd have to make do with his blood for paint.
He wondered what the girl's face looked like after the first shot.
A sad sap, laying on the surface.
She'd left 3 days after the girl was born. He didn't know the girl. Only knew that she was biologically his.
Really what had become of his life to bring him to these lengths?
He didn't know whether he hoped the little girl would actually walk up the stairs or not.
Whether he hoped she'd actually see him lying at the top of the stairs or not.
Whether he wanted her to see his final parting gift to her or not.
Whether or not much like him, curiosity might just kill the cat.
He did know, however, that he wasn't happy his final moments were being spent with her.
Can you find me?
He held the gun in front of his head and wondered for a moment if the little girl would be able to find him.
If she'd be able to figure out what he needed her to. If she'd one day figure out the message he's left her and carry out what he needs her to.
He doesn't take too long to think about it though.
He presses the trigger once more with the same resolution he felt when he made the decision to do this.
——— ♔ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ♔ ———
The Hand... L Y R A K A N E
Every time a guy writes a song, he's a cowboy, a sailor. Playing with the world in his palm like the first pioneer.
Ever since the memories started returning in flashes, she couldn't help but wonder what he thought that night.
Why he thought it was a good thing to do to a four year old girl.
Did he think he was doing something good? Theres no way. But how could she truly know? It's not as if she could ask him why. So he really could've and she'd never know.
She wondered if in that sick mind of his, he managed to cast himself as some sort of hero. If he thought hurting her was something she deserved. Perhaps he even managed to twist it so that he thinks he's doing her a favor.
He couldn't even get her name right. Maybe that was a sign he hated her.
Who was he to decide the direction her life would take from that point in time? He had to know that would stick with her.
That she would feel it in the back of her mind every second of every day.
She always did feel like something was missing. She didn't know that was what it was though.
Every time he opens his mouth, it's a loud movie trailer. Clipping every image and sound he thinks proves he was here.
She wondered what he thought would become of his legacy.
Did he believe she'd think of him in a positive light? As some benevolent God? Did he think everyone he knew would think he did a good thing? Would mourn him?
She certainly saw him as an untouchable figure. Someone she couldn't quite place.
She didn't love him. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him.
And yet she couldn't get passed the thoughts of that night.
And she hated herself for not being able to move past it way more than she hated him.
A hand, a spike, a physical fight, a flash of light, a curtain. A toll, a tithe, the passage of time, a height, a dive, a burden.
Her mind often melded thoughts together when she got flashes of that night.
The image of him placing the candy bracelet in her hand. It fit snuggly around her wrist, and she could feel there was only three pieces left. One less than the age she had turned that day.
Why had he given her the stupid bracelet to begin with?
Then the lily. A calla lily to begin with. Calla lilies weren't TRUE lilies. She'd learned that when researching them one night when she couldn't sleep.
Calla lilies were poisonous if injested. While it's rarely severe. That really solidified her biological father's hatred for her.
She wishes he could hear her tell him the feeling was mutual.
A girl, a night, a typical type, a siren in the water. A scroll, a nod, a message from God, a son, a Holy Father.
She doesn't know why she felt comfortable telling Grayson the memory. He was the first person she'd ever told. The only person she'd told since the memory came back.
She'd been a four year old girl that night. One day before, she would've been three.
She wondered if he'd specifically chosen her birthday to make the night really stick.
Not that it helped much, her brain had other plans. She wished it'd stuck to it's guns so she wouldn't be on the phone with a man connected to the reason she couldn't sleep at night.
She'd gotten him hook, line, and sinker with that riddle apparently.
Hawthorne's really did seem to love a good puzzle.
She wished she could claim the same.
Every time a guy writes a song, he's a sailor, a cowboy. Holding out the world in his palm like he made it himself.
'Stop calling.'
Grayson Hawthorne didn't need to care about her story. It wasn't any of his business. And it's not like he knew her. He didn't feel any connection to her.
That doesn't mean the fact that the first and only person she's told that memory not caring didn't hurt. Because it did.
She knew she didn't have too much of a right to feel hurt, but she did. She hurt a bunch.
Because what did she do to deserve this? Why did she have to go to sleep at night thinking about a situation she bore no connection or relation to. Her only fault was being biologically related to a man she didn't even know.
Meanwhile Grayson Hawthorne acted as if the entire world had to bend to his will.
'Stop Calling.'
Grayson Hawthorne who was related to the reason she couldn't sleep at night. Grayson Hawthorne who had the resources to figure out what happened. Grayson Hawthorne who she thought of all people in that family would maybe care. Grayson Hawthorne who's whole family was the reason she remembered in the first place because they couldn't just stay off the damn news.
'Stop Calling.'
And damn her for falling in line. For actually listening when he told her to stop. She couldn't bring herself to pick up the phone again though. Not when he'd shown such a dramatic lack of care for what she went through.
He found her annoying, and clearly her story wasn't entertaining enough to catch his attention for more than 3 phone calls.
She wonders if she had the level of audacity that asshole seemed to have and such an incredibly large stick up her ass, if she'd help strangers out.
Probably not.
So it's not like she could be too angry.
Every time I open my mouth, I think, "Wow, what a loud noise". Still on the soapbox, just hoping I seem underwhelmed.
She had to get away from her parents. She couldn't stay here any longer.
The one person she'd told didn't care. And a sneaking part of her was scared her parents wouldn't either.
She knew they would though. She knew they'd worry even more. She knew they'd be far too worried to the point of suffocation.
Not to mention she literally couldn't bring herself to speak on the topic anymore. The words, the story, couldn't even leave her mouth anymore.
She found it got stuck in her throat. Her throat and mouth would get dry, and she'd feel as if she couldn't breathe whenever she did try to talk about it even to herself.
She rolled her eyes and felt like crying at her own dramatics. She felt dramatic.
It wasn't a big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal. So why did she treat it like it was?
It happened so long ago, it shouldn't mean anything anymore.
'What begins a bet?'
"Not that." She whispered into the night as she watched the shadows drift across the moonlit walls of her room.
She needed to get out of this house.
She found herself forcing herself up and in an impulse decision, accepting the decision of a college far away from home.
She wondered how long she could swim away from the waves of her past before she got swallowed whole.
The hand, the pen, the writing again, the wind around the willow. The felt, the ice, the passage of time, the melting down the window.
Lyra finds her thoughts drifting to something other than the past that seems to haunt her.
She finds herself wondering whether she'll be able to find someone that she can truly connect with ever again. If she'll ever able to have someone in her corner that truly knows her. That understands her.
Someone that sees her for all her damage and still looks at her as if she is the most beautiful person to ever grace their gaze. If someone can look at her, see all that she is, and still love her.
She doubts it.
She doubts she'll ever even be able to find the strength to tell someone what happened ever again.
How could someone truly love her, truly know her, if they don't even know about her past? If they don't know what she's been through?
She doesn't feel like she could truly connect with someone if they don't know.
Lyra realizes for the first time ever, she's truly alone.
Lyra gasped, feeling her throat close up. She places a hand over her rapidly beating heart, as if that will somehow help push air into her lungs. And somewhere distantly in the back of her mind she knows her eyes are welling up with tears.
Breathe Lyra, breathe. You need to breathe.
She's truly alone.
She let's out a choked gasp.
She might be alone with these thoughts forever.
No one to ever truly love all of her.
No one to truly know all of her.
She wishes that didn't hurt more than the memories themselves.
The now, the then, the thinking of "when", the bottle in the ocean. The strike, the pause, the message from God forbid she shows emotion.
She hates that some nights when she gazes at herself in the mirror, her reflection is that little girl holding that flower and and the candy bracelet. Eyes wide with innocence. Unaware she's forever trapped in that house.
She wonders when she might move on. When the little girl will finally make her escape from that place.
Lyra sometimes wonders if Thomas knew he was forever chaining such a young girl there. She wonders if he knew she'd never be able to escape that house no matter the barriers her mind puts up in order to protect her from it. No matter how far away she tries to run from him.
She hates him. She hates him for trapping her there. She wishes it hadn't been her. She wonders why it had to be her.
She hates herself just as much for not being able to leave though. For not being able to run away from him.
She hates that she dreams about that night. She hates the man who's face she can't even remember. And she hates that she just let's him haunt her. She hates that she's not strong enough to get away.
Perhaps he always knew that would be the case.
This isn't rage, it's worth a mention. This is a fake internal tension. Sometimes, I spread out one opinion. And stand on its back to gauge attention.
Lyra isnt angry at him.
Why would she be angry at him?
He hasn't ever done anything for her. He isnt worth her anger.
She's not angry at him because they have no relation.
That man wasn't her father.
He doesn't even come close to her real dad.
So why should she be angry at him?
He means nothing to her.
No. She wasn't angry at him. Someone she doesn't know and has no relation to doesn't deserve her anger.
What she's feeling is the temporary tension of remembering her past so suddenly.
She'll move on eventually. She has to.
The reason why this has such a big affect on her is because of how recent the memory resurgence is. As time goes on. She'll move on.
Thats why when her mother asks her if she's okay, she says she's fine.
That's why she pretends not to notice that Keith seems to be taking her out the house more often than usual for daddy-daughter days to make her feel better and perhaps talk to him.
She pretends not to notice when her parents talk to each other in hushed tones about her change.
She pretends not to notice their distress over not being able to figure out why and over not being able to do anything for her.
Because this will all pass. It's merely the timing. Thats all.
She doesn't think about the four year old voice whispering in her ear at night, asking if she truly believes that or if she's just telling herself that.
This isn't rage, it's too specific.
She's not angry because she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of making her angry.
She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made her feel anything at all. But overall, she will not give him her anger.
Being angry means admitting he's haunting her. And he's not. Because she's not giving him the satisfaction of being more than one page in her life's story.
So she pushes him to the back of her mind and tries to focus on her classes.
I like to hate symbolic limits. This is no statement, I'm complicit. This is a dream, God put me in it.
"No thanks, I'm good."
Her roommate rolled her eyes following the obligatory asking if she wants to go out with her and her friends because they're roommates. She leaves without another word.
Lyra stares at the homework in front of her for a little bit longer, before changing into clothes suitable for going outside.
She hates that she can't go out with friends. She'd dreamed of college for years before her memories returned. She remembered making plans with her friends in high school about all the parties they'd go to together, all the friends they'd make, and perhaps that she might even find the love of her life.
Now she can't even bring herself to do anything aside from study. And it's because of the stupid memories of that stupid moment 14 years ago.
She hates that that man dictates her decisions even now. That she hasn't been able to dance since they memories returned. She knew she wasnt who she was before. And she respected herself enough to know she had a good run while it lasted.
She hates the power he seems to have over her. The fact she can't seem to escape it.
The fact that she even tried to figure out the truth behind his death like he probably intended.
She hates that even now a part of her is chasing the truth, and that she's complicit to his entire scheme to begin with.
'A Hawthorne did this.'
Shut up.
She pushes herself to run faster as if by doing so, she might make it out of the reach from that dark corner of her mind.
Something in her begs to learn to truth. To find out what truly happened. And she sometimes feels like fate is pushing her to find those answers.
But she doesn't want to find them. She doesnt even want to look for them.
They say curiosity killed the cat. Well she's not going to be that cat. She's not willing to waste her life for him. She's already lost so much.
A hand, a spike, a physical fight. The wind around the willow.
Lyra found herself letting another birthday get ruined as she looked at the files from the police report regarding her father's suicide as well as her kidnapping.
She had turned 19 today, and yet here she was. Looking at police reports.
It took her awhile to bring herself to do this. She'd been fighting herself over it for months. And yet here she was.
On her birthday.
She really did hate herself.
A toll, a tithe, the passage of time, the melting down the window. The now, the then, the thinking of "when".
Lyra finds herself reflecting on her life as she looks at her ticket for The Grandest Games.
She deserves this.
She's gonna do it. It's the answer to all her family's problems. And her family needs it.
She was free of what happened that night for so many years. She lived so many years without having to think about it.
She was four back then when she experienced it. Now she's nineteen and she still feels far too young to be dealing with it.
She stared at the ticket.
She does realize it'd be easier though if she went in with a clearer head. Especially because she's going to be seeing him.
She wasn't going for answers. She was going for herself and for her family. Thats all that mattered.
That man and his death didn't matter. He didn't deserve to matter.
The siren in the water. A strike, a pause, a message from God, does that make me his daughter?
She could swear, she was like a moth to a flame with this stuff.
She couldn't seem to avoid it even in The Grandest Games.
The memory had officially been completed.
She had actually gone up the stairs. She'd seen her father's blown off head. She'd felt the warmth of his blood on her feet. She'd seen whatever image he'd put on the wall. And there was so much blood. A whole lot of blood. Far too much blood.
But she was four. An incredibly strong four year old who found it in herself to walk up those stairs.
She felt she was way stronger then than she was now.
At least she wasn't alone, she had Grayson.
Grayson who knew about that night. Grayson who comforted her through her panic attack in that theater room. Grayson who regretted telling her to stop calling. Grayson who hadn't stopped thinking about her. Grayson who wanted to help her.
A part of her nearly laughed at the irony of it all. That she might as well have cursed Grayson the same way Thomas cursed her.
He gave her the trauma, and she passed it on to another person for it to haunt as well.
She wondered if that made her any better than him. If that made her like him.
'You two look so much alike!'
She heard the distant gush of the woman at the daycare that let her be taken by him that day.
She looks so much like him.
This time when she looked in the mirror instead of seeing a 4 year old girl, she saw a headless man holding a gun at the mirror. Pointing directly at her.
Lyra squeezed her eyes shut and immediately forced her gaze away from the mirror as she stumbled over to her bed.
She needed to get ahold of herself.
A hand, a shove, a valley, a jump, a score under the wire. Just sweep me up, just sweep me up... And take me somewhere higher.
Lyra finds herself more haunted by her past than before.
She knows more now. The games have ended, and she's settling down into the quiet rhythm of her daily life.
She wishes there was a way she could've learned more and simply never had to think about it again.
To simply move on.
To simply forget all that happened.
But life doesn't make it that easy, no matter how much you wishes it would.
She found herself wishing she'd just let the waves swallow her. That she kept swimming away rather than getting out of the water.
Getting swallowed would've been way easier.
——— ♔ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ♔ ———
She cuddled closer to her mother as they both watched a movie, "Mom..."
She'd never felt more vulnerable in her life.
"Yes, Baby?" her mom kissed her forehead, grabbing her hand as if she could already tell this was gonna be hard one.
"I'm not fine..."
"I know..."
Lyra felt herself swallow hard, her throat getting the familiar dryness, "C- Can... C- Could.... Maybe may I-.... I tell you why?"
Her mother sat up slowly, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie as she looked at Lyra.
"Of course."
A/N (Semi-Important?): If you ended up reading all the way to the end thank you so much and I love you for that ♡ This is my first time doing angst like this. (Is this angst? I hope it is)
I also recently just made an asks so like... Have at it? I'm thinking about doing a taglist (we're tbd on that though, bc what would I even do it specifically for? So no promises on that...) But if you're interested and want me to make one, tell me??? Idk this has gotten awkward...
was explaining the plot of tgg to my friend who didnt read it (she tried to get into tig, couldn’t do it, whereas i love it, and she begged me to try and get into shatter me (i refuse to), and she loves it LMFAO) and explaining lyras back story was literally like this:
friend: “why does she hate the hawthornes so much?”
me: “bc her dad killed himself”
friend: “so?”
me: “and blamed the hawthornes”
friend: 😦
me: “and committed while his daughter was in the house”
What I love about Lyra is that she is not a typical FMC, she defies all the cliches
She has both parents, and they are good parents, and they have a great marriage
Her stepfather is a good man, which debunks the stereotype on step fathers
She's emotionally intelligent and aware
She doesn't try to act tough to get people to take her seriously, she leads with kindness and compassion
Is really sensible, a typical FMC would have taken Eve' deal and not told Grayson, leading to miscommunication and more drama
Going to college and wants to help out financially
Has a lot of self respect and knows how to stick up for herself
Doesn't view any of the other women as competition despite being in one, but admires and respects all of them
Has clear boundaries and will not let anyone including Grayson to treat her like garbage
With all that being said, I really hope JLB doesn't take the cliche route and make Thomas Thomas the villain in all of this, let me explain what I mean.
I'm hoping that Thomas Thomas was a good person with good intentions but made a series of bad decisions, leading to bad outcomes ultimately leading to his death. If he's really a villain then I feel like that would be way too predictable.
I want his story to be the most angsty, gut wrenching, heart breaking thing ever. As much as I love Keith Kane, I want it to be so that in another life if circumstances were different, he would have been a good father and good husband. JLB has the perfect opportunity to make his story soul crushing, and I'm really hoping she utilises this opportunity.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Okay wait so in the fire Kaylie rooney died, so did colin wright and david goulding. if we follow @that-artemis-studios theory of david goulding being related to thomas thomas, then thomas thomas, hannah rooney and sheffield grayson died (all related to someone who died in the fire) and since the cult LOVES 3 so much do u think they would kill off 3 more people? one from each family so 3 from each family dies? (if that's what they want to do, toby would have had to be involved since the start though. AND FORGIVE ME IF THIS HAS BEEN DISCUSSED BEFORE PLEASE 😟)
