Reincarnate [Isaac Lahey]

Chapter Eight

Human.

What did that even mean anymore?

It was the next day.

She hadn't slept. All she thought about was the night before. She was lying down on her bed with her duvet wrapped around her head like E.T and she was simply basking in the empty warmth that it provided. At the same time, her entire body was burning. Her hands kept clenching and unclenching like they were having a spasm. There was too much channelling through her and yet at the same time, there was a void buried deep within.

Glowing eyes, claws, none of it felt real. Everything felt twitchy and horrible and she wished her past life self could have come across this discovery to prepare her for something so terrible. How much of the reality she knew was a lie?

Hearing the sound of her door opening, she glanced up from her cave of duvet to see her father looking down at her concerned, "you alright kid?"

"Yeah," she rasped out her voice tired and weak.

His brows furrowed before he stepped forward pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, "are you sure you're okay? You're burning up."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," she admitted, pushing herself up so she could get away from his concerned hand. "I don't wanna go to school."

"Do you want me to phone Deaton? I could get the day off."

"No, I just...don't want to go in. You should go to work," she urged and he nodded gently before sighing.

"Call me if you need me," he said and she gave her own small nod as he left.

She spent the day trailing around her house whilst trying to figure everything out. There were so many things that needed time to be thought about and figured out. As she made it to her mother's shelves, her eyes began to burn. The urn which sat there so comfortably felt offensive. She wasn't so supposed to be a collection of ashes (ashes which could have been the house and not even her mother) sat on a shelf. She was supposed to be full of life.

Singing, dancing, having family games of karaoke, teaching her about crystals and nature and life. Tears crawled out of her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks as she thought about it. She still expected to come home and find her reciting poems to anyone who would listen or jumping around the room in her own version of a messy dance. She should have been smiling and laughing and singing so loud that it made everyone laugh because no-one in her family, especially her mother, could sing for shit.

And she was gone.

Stumbling back, Lena fell back against the plain cream wall and slid down to the floor bringing the back of her hand to her mouth in an effort to cover the sobs. She was never going to hear that terrible voice again. There was so much that could have been said, should have been said, needed to be said but none of it was ever going to pass her lips to her mother again.

No words would be shared between them, no memories, nothing, it was all gone.

They were going to kill her. That was what Stiles had said and judging from the look on 'graveyard boys' face he was going to kill her. She'd been kind to him; why would he want to kill her? Someone was going to kill her and she didn't even know their name. Now the tears wouldn't stop.

Every ghost of a smile and touch was whirling around in her mind of her mother. Her mother. Who left a letter.

Remembering it, she forced herself to her feet and began to pull out all of the books trying to find it. It couldn't have just disappeared. It couldn't have existed one second and then stopped existing the next. That wasn't how the world worked. It couldn't be how the world worked.