𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 ━━ LYDIA MARTIN

62

UPON HEARING HIM SPEAK, Lydia turned to look at him although his stare was focused on the ceiling.

She noticed how his brows were furrowing and his lips were in between his teeth as he contemplated on what to say. "She was there, in what's-her-name's basement— looking like shit. I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck and choke her to death."

His confession was horrifying but she tried not to let it show which was easier since he wasn't even looking at her.

"But I couldn't bring myself to do it," Reid continued, his fists clenching to his sides, his nails digging in his palm enough to draw blood, "even after what she did— I couldn't. I promised myself I would... that it was the first thing I'd do if I ever see her. I mean, that's why I wanted to know where she was in the first place... So I could be the one to end her miserable life but I—"

"— It's okay," she interrupted his talk, noticing how he was getting angrier and angrier with every passing second. She brought her hand to one of his and unclenched his fingers, breaking his fist before holding his hand as she interlocked their fingers. "You're going to end up hurting yourself."

He scoffed at her concern but didn't move his hand from hers, "I'll heal."

Her breath hitched in her throat at his words, "but that doesn't mean you should hurt yourself."

"I don't hurt myself," he mumured, his eyes flickering to hers, "I mean, it doesn't hurt, at least."

"But you've done it before?" She questioned, "hurt yourself? Not like this—" she glanced at his hand, "— but worse."

He frowned for a second before realisation dawned upon him. She was talking about the scars on his body. "I—" he stilled, his entire body going rigid at her insinuations, "— it's not me. I didn't do that to myself."

"Then who did?" She asked, keeping her voice soothingly low, concern lacing her features as she stared at him, brushing the pad of her thumb on the back of his hand while her other hand found it's way to his head. She began running her fingers through his black strands, an attempt to call him down.

He stayed quiet, his breath catching in his throat. "Was it..." She trailed off, unsure whether to ask before she finally decided to, "was it your dad?"

His silence answered her question. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "that you had to go through that," lowering her head before she placed a kiss on his forehead as she whispered against his skin, "you know I'll always be there for you, right?"

Reid closed his eyes for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything for the next few minutes. Lydia had now made herself comfortable and she placed her head on his shoulder.

"When you're mated with someone," Reid broke the silence, "and you leave them, they tend to go insane. It's like... a drug of sorts, you know?"

"So your dad went mad?" She asked, having caught up on what he was trying to explain. Reid hummed in response, "yeah, he did. When mom left, he was fine for the first few days and then he lost it. It was like... a switch flipped in him or some shit. He murdered our entire pack and... took the rest of his rage on me."

"How old were you?" She continued running her fingers through his hair, calming him down. He signed, giving her a small shrug, "I don't know, roughly four."

"Four?" She repeated, evident shock present in her voice, "he's been abusing you ever since you were four? But... but you were a basically a baby! Oh my god, that's horribe—"

"— Yeah," he muttered, "it's whatever. He's dead so let's not dwell on past shit."

"Is that why you want to kill your mom?" She cut him off, "because she left your father?" He nodded, "pretty much."

"You know," she began, "you should probably give her a chance. I'm not telling you to go hug her or something, I'm just saying... she's your mother, despite everything. Maybe you should—"

"— No," he quickly refused, "I can barely look at the woman and god, she's annoying as fuck."

"Okay," Lydia chuckled, "your choice. But don't go killing her."

"I'll think about it."

"About what Ms Blake— whatever her name is— said," Lydia spoke, "about you being a psychopath or stuff like I'll leave you, you should know that I don't care. I mean, like I said, I won't leave you."

"You better not," he placed his hand on her waist and drew her closer, "we should probably sleep. It's been a long day."

"Right," she snuggled closer to him, her hand going to rest on his chest, "good night."