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00/00 Both figuratively and literally, it is a task to occupy the generations. And no matter how much progress one makes, there is always the thrill of just beginning. We are all connected; To each other, biologically. To the earth, chemically. To the rest of the universe atomically.
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[OS] Lose Your Mind
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Jan 18 2014, 08:37 PM
Stiles rubbed at his temples as he laid in bed next to Lydia. His eyes clenched shut as he rubbed trying to get the pain in his head to go away. He rolled to his side pressing his forehead between Lydia’s shoulder blades and she laid on her side. His arm wrapping around her waist so he curled against her back. He could feel her breathing next to him fast asleep. He was trying desperately to go to sleep but the constant stabbing pain that filled his head was making it hard. He had tried medicine, he had tried food, he had tried even tea, but nothing had helped make the pain go away.
He let out a small groan of pain before releasing Lydia and going to the bath room. He looked over his shoulder, looking at Lydia sleeping there next to the toss and turn of his sheets and pillows. He let out a sigh and closed the bathroom door. He didn’t want to wake her up, she had already spent so many nights awake with him, she needed at least one night of peace.
Stiles looked in the mirror as if he had never seen his own reflection. His face was pale , almost sickly, while his eyes were dark and sunken in. He hadn’t been able to sleep for days now and it was weighing heavy on him. His hair was mess and all over the place, the tossing and turning in his attempted sleep made it stand on edge. He didn’t look like himself, he looked like someone old, someone sick.
And that made him angry. His hands gripped the sink as he leaned closer to the mirror , eyes wide as he stared into his own reflected. He tried to see himself in the boy that looked at him. Tried to make himself see the boy he had become now but all he could see was the weak boy that Jackson used to push him into lockers.
He didn’t know how long that he stared into the mirror. It could have been a minute or it could have been an hour, a day, a week, it was timeless, endless. But there came a shift. Because all of the sudden the image wasn’t the same. The mouth in the mirror started to slowly turn up until it was a smirk. Stiles stumbled back while the reflection laughed at him. His shaking hands coming up to pull at his hair and cover his ears, but the laughter just kept ringing in his head. Until finally , without warning his hand struck out and collided with the mirror straight in the middle of his own laughing face. When it shattered he blinked as if he was coming out of a daze. He looked down to see cuts on his fits the broken pieces of the mirror scattered against the counter and floor. His body started to shake almost violently as he looked at the destruction.
He left the bathroom quickly not looking at anything but the door leading out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. His hands shook as he pulled a glass cup out of the counter and filled it with water. His hand shook so violently that the water jerked and moved inside the cup like waves. He tried to be calm, he tried to just take a gently sip, but his grip on the glass was too hard, too rough. It shattered in his hand , glass digging deep into his palm causing more blood start to pool on his hands. He looked at the pieces of glass stuck in his hands in shock. Falling down to his knees slowly while he stared down at his hands wondering how he could of done that.
As he moved to start pulling the glass out of his hands, letting it fall down to the kitchen floor , he saw a flash out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze searched around the room, thinking that the movement was Lydia or a cat. But he couldn’t see anyone in the room except himself. He frowned and looked around once more before moving to stand up. He moved from the kitchen, eyes wide and alert as he looked for anything and anyone that could prove that he saw something. To prove that he wasn’t insane.
He couldn’t breathe as he stepped foot in the living room . He didn’t understand what was happening to him. He felt like he was going insane. He couldn’t eat or sleep and he heard things talk to him. And his damn head. It felt like fire had spread from one side of his brain to the other, engulfing everything it touched in burning pain. He spent the majority of his day in bed or in the bathroom trying not to be physically ill from the pain. People tried to get him to go to the hospital, or for him to see a doctor, but just the thought of it made him stop breathing in fear. But he didn’t have to worry about that, Lydia said she would stay with him, she would take care of him.
But still, he wanted it to stop, he wanted it to all stop. He just wanted to go back to being Stiles, to be fun, happy, not constantly in pain Stiles. But first he had to see what was in the house. He stepped further into the living room, looking at the walls for any shadows. He couldn’t see anything in the room , but he kept moving forward anyways. Until his bare foot pressed into something wet .Looking down slowly he could see what he stepped in was dark, think, with the familiar acidic scent of blood. He followed it’s trail, not breathing when he reached the end.
It had to be a dream because there was no way the scene in the living room could be real. He saw his mother there. She was dead, just like all his nightmares and dreams before only the cause of her death was different this time. Instead of the cuts and bruises that covered her body from a car crash , there where scratches and tears. Her insides spilled out as if something had opened her up and started eating her. Her eyes wide open staring directly into Stiles.
He could feel his body rejecting the image in a physical manner. The Vile rising in his throat , and he had to turn away to force it down. But when he turned he was assaulted by the vision of his father there. He was lying on the ground in full Sherriff uniform , his chest cut open. Stiles eyes where trapped by the vision, as he looked closer he could see that his father’s chest had been pulled open. Ribs spread wide so the heart could be removed. Almost as if he was seeing his sister’s body all over again.
Stiles closed his eyes violently whispering desperately that it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real, his father was home safe and sound , he wasn’t dead with his heart torn apart. It was just a dream, just a nightmare. Any second he would wake up and be in his bed next to Lydia.
But when he opened his eyes he was still standing there feet now covered in his mother’s and father’s blood. He choked on his disgust stumbling out of the room trying to find somewhere that didn’t smell like the blood of his parents.
He moved quickly towards where Lydia was. He would wake her up, she would tell him it’s not real. That he was just insane that nothing bad had happened. And then she would hug him and hold him while he tried to understand what had happened to make him go insane. But before he entered the bedroom he stopped in the doorway.
A sick feeling hit him in his stomach. His eyes looking out into the room at the bed. Everything seemed fine, he could see the shape of Lydia’s body under the covers. The lights we’re still off . Nothing had moved or disappeared, and no one new was in the room. But when he took in a breath, he could smell blood.
He walked slowly into the room , his hands shaking at his sides. With every step his heart beat rose. He didn’t know what he would do if anything happened to Lydia. A month ago when he almost lost her in that car crash he had almost lost everything. He couldn’t live without her , he could spend his days alone , not after he had a taste of what life was like with her. Not when he already planned on a life with her filling his days.
He moved till he stood next to her, pulling back the covers to see her body. The sight made him drop down to his knees in agony, the sobs coming automatically from his mouth. There in the bed the love his life laid torn to shreds, as if an animal had come in and decided she was a toy. Bite marks covered her body like someone had tried to claim her. The blood spilled out on the sheets and kept spreading with every passing minute.
Stiles hands clutched at his face in agony as the site burned into his mind, his bloody hands spreading the red liquid on his face . He had now lost everything. His mother , his father, the love of his life. He didn’t care if the blood covered his body was just a little or a lot. He pulled them back and stared at them as if they were the monsters that haunted his dreams. The blood that was his own transformed to the blood of his family and love in his mind. And for some reason, some insane reason, he thought that he had killed them. He could remember how the blood had gotten on his hands, the broken glass forgotten.
He had killed everything had loved in life. He was the monster he swore he wouldn’t become when he turned. And now he kneeled there with their innocent blood on his hands.
Stiles hands went to his head grasping at it painfully as his sobs turned into screams and back into sobs in an endless cycle of pain. The sounds spreading throughout the apartment like it was an echo on the mountain tops.
The poor boy didn’t even know it was all in his head.
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