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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧
─── THE TRAGICALLY BEAUTIFUL ART OF PRETENDING!
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HER GRANDMOTHER WOULD ALWAYS SAY THIS ONE PHRASE. Borrowed from the timeless lyrics of her favorite gospel song and the lengthy sermons given by Pastor Johnson. I'm so glad I know trouble don't last always. Orion supposed as a child who went to bed one night with two loving parents only to wake up the next with just one, those words meant everything to her. The idea that while she might cry herself to sleep one night, feeling the unbearable weight of the world on her shoulders, the next night, she'll fall peacefully asleep without a single worry. Orion believed them more than anything. She longed for the day when she'd look at herself in the mirror, and there wouldn't be a mirage of whom she wanted to be, but instead, herself. And she'd be okay with it.
It wasn't until she was older did she realize that promise was merely a string of words, meant to bring comfort because the truth was too dark for an eleven-year-old girl to bear. The normality her grandmother spoke of never did fill her hollow bones, returning her to the naive girl she once was. So Orion stopped believing her troubles would fade away and started pretending they already had. She knew it wasn't healthy, but that didn't matter to her, not then at least. It was easier that way, she thought, for everyone involved. And after Peter Hale's attack at the school, Orion pretended to be okay, for the sake of everyone involved.
It'd been four days since Scott, Stiles, and Orion were chased through the halls of their school by the alpha, their hearts beating with fear. Four days since the alpha murdered the janitor, mutilating his body with his claws and supposedly Derek Hale──that now, thanks to Scott McCall's split decision, was wanted for the three other deaths tormenting the town. And four days since Vincent Sinclair let Orion do anything without watching over her like a hawk.
His own way of keeping her away from anything that could cause her the slightest bit of harm──mainly leaving the house.
Though each night, at a quarter to midnight, Orion found herself on the phone with Stiles, the softest of giggles escaping her lips as he rambled on about his dull day stuck inside. She'd tell him about the new book she'd started reading (unable to stick to just one), and he would listen closely, making mental notes of the names so he could read them too. They'd almost become inseparable since that horrifying night, finding comfort in each other that no one else could offer them. And among the sincere conversations and laughter-fueled spirals into silly topics, Orion knew she liked talking to him, even if it was about complete nonsense. There was something about him, she supposed, something she couldn't quite pinpoint.
