Luring Lyra | Creepypasta Fanmade Spin-off [COMPLETED]

2.

Warning: abusive parent, smoking

~

As soon as Lyra returned home and opened the door, she was instantly greeted by a loud voice from the couch.

"There you are, ya stupid bitch!" Frank Rogers shouted at his daughter, pausing the episode of Peaky Blinders that he was watching. "Don't just stand there, head to the kitchen and help your mother with the dishes!"

Lyra glared at her father, already annoyed. Ever since she was young, people had remarked that she looked just like him: blonde hair, fair skin, blue eyes, and a tall, fit build. But despite inheriting both his looks and his anger issues, Lyra loathed being compared to Frank. All the man had done was cause his family misery and pain.

"Since you're too stupid to do it yourself, go fucking clean your car!" Lyra yelled back. "It's a goddamn rat's haven in there!"

"Why you little-!"

Frank jumped up from the couch and charged at the young woman. Springing into action, Lyra grabbed Frank's wrist to stop him from landing a punch. Quickly, she kneed him in the groin, causing Frank to crumble to the floor. She then kicked him in the stomach for good measure. Lyra couldn't help but feel a strange sense of power as she watched her father writhing around on the floor in pain and groaning, but she didn't wait long before she took off down the hall to the kitchen and slammed the door behind her.

Having heard the commotion, Connie had already stepped away from the sink, ready to break up the fight. Her face was flooded with worry.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. She fought back her discomfort as she caught the awful smell wafting off of her daughter.

"'M fine, Mom," Lyra muttered, her head still pounding as she locked the door.

Connie gulped. She was nearly a head shorter than Lyra. Short, milky brown hair framed her face in a loose bob. Heavy bags sat under her hazel green eyes, and she always had a look on her face that made her appear concerned. Ever since her husband had started drinking, the bags never seemed to go away. Lyra couldn't remember the last time she heard her truly laugh.

Lyra sighed, anger still traveling through her head. No words could describe how much she hated her father, but she didn't want to make him angrier and put her beloved mother in danger.

"I'll help you wash the dishes," she said at last, and she approached the sink to turn the faucet back on.

The women began to work in silence, Connie rinsing and washing the dishes while Lyra dried them and put them on the rack. The kitchen was quite small, but then again, the house in general was small. After Frank had lost his job several years before, the family had had to move into a smaller, cheaper house. Lyra and her brother both had their own rooms, and food could be put on the table every night. But nobody could spend money carelessly, especially with Frank going to the pub constantly and any other extra money being put aside for Toby's medical bills and medication. Connie had to work two jobs, and Lyra, who herself worked part-time, had barely been able to finish high school. As for college, she had dropped out two years early, although this was due to her continuously getting into trouble, as well as other reasons.

"How was your day?" Connie asked, breaking the silence.

"It was okay," Lyra answered. "Hung out with the gang for a while. Crystal bought us some fries."

"They doing alright?" Connie asked.

Lyra nodded. But just as she was finally beginning to calm down, there was a knock on the door. Both women jumped as the sound reached their ears.

"Frank?" Connie called out nervously.

Lyra swiped a knife from the drying rack, ready to defend herself and her mother.

"M-my name isn't F-Frank," a male voice snapped on the other side of the door.

Connie heaved a small sigh of relief. Toby Rogers, age seventeen, constantly needed attention from the rest of the family. Suffering from a slew of disorders including CIPA and Tourette's syndrome, Toby could get hurt quite easily, despite never feeling any pain. He had been homeschooled starting from the age of eight due to severe bullying, and their medical bills cost thousands. Regardless, Lyra and Connie did everything they could to take care of him: Toby had them wrapped around their little finger. As for Frank, however, Toby was severely disliked by their father and often had to be protected, leaving Lyra and Connie bruised every time while Toby scurried off to his room.

But despite all of this, Lyra tried not to be bothered. She was used to it. And of course, she loved her little brother. Connie, likewise, would do anything for her son.

Placing the knife back on the drying rack, Lyra went to unlock and open the kitchen door. There stood Toby, short for his age, their skin so pale it was almost gray, bags circled under his dull brown eyes. The color of their messy hair was identical to Connie's. He had one of those faces that made them constantly look numb or annoyed, even when he smiled. They were quite introverted, and he rarely left his room.

"What's up, Tobes?" Lyra greeted her brother, managing a grin.

"Something you need, sweetie?" Connie added kindly. She gave her son a small smile.

Toby's shoulder twitched, and they looked from their mother to his sister before finally speaking.

"I just w-wanted some w-w-water," Toby said at last. Ever since he was young, they had suffered from a bad stutter. In fact, he hadn't spoken a word until they were four years old.

Connie nodded and went to fetch a glass of water. Lyra leaned against the counter, propping herself up against it. Now with Toby in the kitchen, the room was getting crowded.

"Haven't seen you all day," Lyra said to her brother. "How are you?"

"Okay," Toby answered. They looked Lyra up and down, his expression only shifting when he got a whiff of Lyra's stench. "You smell f-fucking rancid."

Lyra rolled her eyes.

"Honey, you really should stop with the smoking," Connie said gently as she handed Toby a glass of water. "You've been doing it for, what, five years? I don't want you developing lung cancer."

"I can quit whenever I want," Lyra argued. "Besides, Mom, you only stopped smoking 'cause you got pregnant with me. You picked it up again as soon as I popped out and then Gran and Gramps made you quit for good."

Connie had no defense for that. Her marriage to Frank had been a shotgun wedding after he had gotten her pregnant from a one-night stand. His parents, being traditional, and it being a different time, forced Connie to quit smoking and become a full-time mother. The only reason Connie hadn't run away was because Mr. and Mrs. Rogers had offered her then underage sister, Laurel, a home with them, as the girls had been homeless for over a decade. Even after Frank's parents had passed, Frank had continued bullying his wife.

"Do m-me a favor and d-d-don't c-come into my room smelling l-like that," Toby insulted his sister. With that, he turned on their heel and walked away.

"Careful to avoid your father!" Connie called after Toby as they departed from the kitchen.

Once Toby left and the door was closed for a second time, Connie turned back to Lyra as she continued from where she left off with the dishes. Once again, she looked concerned.

"Look, Lyra," she said sympathetically, "you've been buying more and more cigarettes this past year, and I'm starting to worry it's even worse. Is there a reason for that?"

Lyra looked away from her mother, refusing to answer. She knew she could trust Connie, but apart from keeping secrets so she wouldn't worry even more than she already did, Lyra disliked appearing vulnerable in front of others. She didn't care if it was because of trauma: it was just who she was.

Connie sighed.

"I know you miss him," she said at last. "He was a good boy. But you gotta understand that there's nothing you can do: he's gone."

It was as though Lyra's mind had been read. She felt a lump gathering in her throat.

"Liu isn't dead, Mom." Lyra snapped at last, and she stomped out of the kitchen and up to her bedroom.