Tether ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [2]

eight

Death. Destruction. Despair. It was everywhere these days, whether it was the sight of it haunting my dreams or the hushed voices seeming to shout about it in my head. Ever since returning home from the motel trip, I had felt extremely on edge and I didn't know how to explain to anyone else that the echoing noise inside my own brain was making it impossible to think about anything else.

Waiting for class to start, I had pulled out my journal again at my desk, with its old leather-bound pages and stamped Argent family emblem on its cover. I was drawing in some of the blank pages, hoping the soothing act of running my pencil across the paper would bring me some kind of peace.

Thankfully, the voices in my head hadn't been as clear as they had been at the motel for the past few days. I tried to tell myself that I was lucky, maybe I could use this clarity to get some sleep or get some homework done. But it wasn't clarity, not really. I guess I was just finally getting used to having a constant sound of frequency in my ears. It was like the buzzing anyone could hear when a bug flew past their ear too closely. But unlike in nature, these bugs didn't go away.

I scrunched up my eyes and shook my head. Thinking about the sound seemed to make it worse. My hand halted on the paper and I let out a breath. Looking down at what I had just drawn, I gasped. It was the dark face of the Darach, the one we had all seen muddled in the flames when the flare had set fire to the gasoline covered pavement. For something that had happened so fast, the ugliness of the figure had clearly made a lasting impact.

Quickly, I ripped out my page and crumpled it tightly. At the sound of footsteps nearing the classroom, I stuffed it into my bag.

"Eleanor!" Lydia called with a pleading voice. The strawberry blonde hurried her step so she got out of arms-reach from Scott and Stiles who were trailing close behind her. She slumped into the desk behind me and draped her hand onto my shoulder with a dramatic flair. "Save me! They're being cryptic again."

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing, except for the fact that Scott here seems to have a grudge against me not staying miserably single like him," she huffed, leaning back in her seat. "For some reason, it has become his mission in life to keep me from having any fun."

"He wants you to stop seeing Aiden?"

Lydia nodded and rolled her eyes. Stiles and Scott took their seats ahead of me.

"Danny was poisoned last night. With mistletoe," Scott said to me, ignoring Lydia's whining. "So, it clearly has something to do with the sacrifices. Ethan brought him in just in time."

"Then that's a good thing, isn't it?" Lydia took out her class books. "Ethan saved Danny. Therefore, Ethan's a good guy and Aiden is too. Why are you so worked up about them?"

Scott tensed up. Even though I wasn't an expert in werewolf customs or even the extent of all the problems Scott was currently facing, I knew that because he was currently at rival with the twins' pack over Derek Hale, Scott wouldn't so easily call Ethan a hero and say case closed.

"I just want you to be - " he began. But Lydia cut him off.

"Be careful? Yeah, I know. You guys give us the same speech all the time. It's getting a little exhausting, isn't it, Ellie?" she chuckled lightly. Looking at me for assistance, she lifted her eyebrows. "Geez, you look like Hell."

I offered a grin, which I feared turned out more like a grimace. "Feel like it."

Honestly, I was a little surprised that Lydia wasn't feeling the same way. Ever since her close encounter with Peter Hale and the traumatic events which unfolded afterwards, I had felt as if we were closer than ever. Of course, I knew deep down Allison, Stiles, or Scott wouldn't truly judge me for what went on inside my head. Frankly, they were all probably used to it by now especially after what happened at the motel. But with Lydia it was different. I felt like she would go beyond simply not judging me, she would understand me.