Trauma changes people. trauma changes everyone.
All rights for the 9-1-1 cast and all rights to most of the plot goes to ABC. New plots and new characters belong to me 🫶
Book continues in Apparition! 🫶
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MILES
The bell above the door jingled, and I looked up from the counter, wiping my hands on a towel. Lydia stepped inside, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a distant gaze. There was something unsettling about the way she walked, as if her feet moved without her mind guiding them. She clocked in, her movements mechanical, and I felt a tightening in my chest.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with concern. But she only nodded, her eyes fixed on the floor, not meeting his gaze. With a soft sigh, she turned and headed into the kitchen, leaving me with a growing sense of unease.
"Did you see that?" Tyler's voice pulled me from my thoughts. The concern was evident in his tone as he leaned over the counter, watching Lydia disappear behind the kitchen door. "She doesn't look good."
I shrugged, unsure how to articulate what he felt. "I don't know. She seems... off."
Delilah approached, catching the tail end of our conversation. "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure," I replied, glancing back at the kitchen. "She just doesn't seem like herself today."
Just then, Lydia emerged from the kitchen, her demeanor shifting as she began taking orders. I watched her carefully, hoping to see the spark of the vibrant girl I knew. We all fell into a rhythm, the orders piling up and laughter ringing through the pizzeria.
But as the chaos of the lunch rush unfolded, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. I was at the register, ringing up a couple's order when I noticed Lydia standing before another couple, her expression blank. The man snapped his fingers in front of her face, trying to get her attention, but she remained unresponsive, staring into space as if lost in another world.
"Lydia?" I called out, but she didn't respond.
Then, in an instant, her body crumpled to the floor, shaking violently. Gasps filled the pizzeria, and I felt my heart drop. "Lydia!" I shouted, rushing to her side. I knelt beside her, panic surging through me as I called her name repeatedly, but there was no recognition in her eyes. They were rolled back, and fear gripped me. "She's having a seizure!"
"Call 911!" I said to Tyler, who was already pulling out his phone, his expression a mirror of my concern.
As I knelt beside Lydia, I felt helpless. I could see her body convulsing, and I cradled her head gently, trying to keep her from hurting herself. "Come on, Lyds. Stay with me, alright?" I urged, my voice shaking.
Two agonizing minutes later, her body finally began to calm, the shaking subsiding. "Lydia?" I called softly, my heart racing. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, and for a brief moment, clarity returned. She looked up at me, confusion clouding her gaze, before she nestled her head against my lap, grasping my hand tightly.
