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[OS] Shout; I Can't Hear a Word You Say...
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Feb 18 2014, 12:53 AM
"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." Each time she repeated that single line to herself it came out breathy and desperate; her quick-paced, barefoot hike through the woods for the last two and a half hours rendering the teenager slightly winded. She wasn't being chased, but she was finding herself running from something that she couldn't quite understand.
Noise. She couldn't get far enough away from it. Whispers and screams and the sound of metal on metal piercing her ears every single second that she sat in her motel room alongside Stiles. Her green eyes staring blankly at the walls as she tried not to jump each time a scream or a louder noise startled her; he wasn't hearing anything. He was quiet... He was normal.
Each hurried step she took away from the motel didn't drain the sounds out, but they grew hushed, almost as if she had left them behind and she was only hearing the echoes. It had taken her so long to get to a point where her breath was louder than the sounds that only she was able to hear, but once she was to that point, she stopped. Her breath visible in front of her lips each time she exhaled; the cold air stinging her exposed skin as her cardigan hung loosely over one shoulder leaving only the spaghetti strap of her nightie covering her skin.
There were too many people whispering at once. It was to the point that she couldn't make out what they were trying to tell her or try to warn her about. Who they were, what they wanted... Every hushed word that they spoke to her was so hushed and so overlapped by others that it was driving her crazy. Her hands over her ears as she screamed, hoping the sound of her own voice o such a forced and infrequent level would drown out the sounds, if only for a short while.
She knew what the sound was; that same chilled feeling that overcame her every other time was plaguing her entire body and it wasn't the winter air stealing the warmth from her. It was death. Cold, lonely, lost... Exactly the situation that Lydia was placing herself in so far out in the woods, as if she needed to feel those things for herself - as if she needed to experience the closest thing to death as she could manage while steering clear of physical harm altogether - to understand.
The strawberry blonde wasn't sure who had been smashing in the windows at hers and Stiles' apartment, forcing them to relocate to a small motel instead. She wasn't sure who had slashed her car's tires and stole her cellphone two days prior, forcing her to walk three miles - in heels - home... but she knew that these attacks weren't at random and that she and Stiles weren't the only ones enduring them.
No, someone...something knew about all of them. They knew about the supernatural... what vampires were, who in the city was a werewolf... what a necromancer did... They were being targeted for what they were and what they did and the attacks on their home and their cars weren't attacks at all. They weren't warnings either, but rather ways to shake the targets that Lydia knew she - and every other supernatural being in this town - had become.
The whispers weren't meant to drive her crazy, they were meant to warn her. The hushed whispers of the supernatural beings that - in the last week alone - had been hunted, tortured, murdered... Lydia was one of the only beings that could hear the voices of the dead and they were all talking to her at once, using every sound and every scream to get her attention.
Moving her hands from her ears as her scream ran dry, Lydia sucked in a soft breath; her chest heaving as she tried to suppress a sob despite the tears already evident on her cold cheeks. Her arms wrapping around her body as she cold continued to sting her skin. The noises were softer now, soft enough that Lydia could try to block them out as she took in the sounds around her. Rustling of naked tree branches, the howling of the winter wind, twigs snapping as animals moved around their nightly routines.
Pulling her phone out of the pocket of her branch-torn cardigan, Lydia used it as her only source of light as she glanced around her surroundings, trying to assure herself that she was the only one that far out in the woods. Her hands shaking from the cold as she slowly turned around on spot, knowing that she could go back and face the noise and try to find a way to block the noise out, or she could stay put and freeze to death over the course of the night's hours.
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