Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Forty

Allison giggled, and Lydia joined her, before we sat on the sofa. "Anyway, what in the literal hell were you talking about? Why is everyone killing themselves here?" I asked. Lydia shrugged, getting serious.

"On average, four-point-nine-five a year, which is actually expected. But who commemorates that with a framed number? Who does that? Who?" Lydia asked. Allison and I gave each other skeptical looks.

"All suicides?" She asked. Lydia nodded, and I rubbed my chin, thinking.

"Yes— hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides," Lydia said. Her ears seemed to perk up, and she went quiet.

"Uh— Lydia?" I asked. She jumped after a minute, covering a hand over her mouth.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

"Lydia? What happened?" Allison asked. She stood, walking to the door.

"Did you hear that?" Lydia said, sounding horrified. I thought about the intense mood switch, and then shook my head.

"Uh— No?" I said. Allison nodding in agreement.

"The two people in the other room, they shot each other!" Lydia exclaimed. I followed her out the door, and she stumbled towards room 216. She opened the door, and I followed her in.

"Oh Jesus," I muttered, not liking this one bit.  Lydia looked terrified, a tear dripping down her cheek. She stepped into the room.

"Hello?" She called. I shivered.

"Oh god— I just got the worst feeling," I muttered. Lydia looked back at me, nodding. We walked through the darkness until I reached out and felt a lamp. I turned it on to see a room being renovated.

"It had to be right here. It was a guy and a girl, and, I mean, they sounded younger, but they were here," Lydia promised. I nodded, and Allison and I gave her a hug.

"It's okay, it's okay. We believe you," I said, patting her head. Allison squeezed Lydia.

"After everything we've been through, we believe you."

—

"You know, there is something seriously wrong with this place. Guys, we should get out of here," Lydia said seriously. We were back in my room. I thought for a second, and then nodded.

"If you feel like something bad is going to happen, I'll get everyone rounded up Lyds," I assured her. Allison put a hand on my shoulder.

"But they were suicides, not murders, and it's not like this place is haunted, right?" Allison said, giving me a look. I shrugged.

"Who knows?" I said.

"You know, I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room! Maybe that's why they're renovating— maybe they've been scraping brain matter off the wood paneling!" Lydia said. Allison and I looked at each other.

"Maybe we should find out," Allison said. I pulled out my phone, calling Stiles over. Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I opened the door, and Stiles stood there with his arms crossed. I gave him a smile.

"Back so soon?" I said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, and I let him in. He sat next to me on the bed, across from the girls on the sofa. Allison told us what happened with Scott. My eyes widened.

"When you guys were— well, canoodling— Scott came in while I was showering!" Allison said. I facepalmed, and Allison shook her head. "The last time I saw Scott act like that was during the full moon," she explained further. Stiles took my hand.