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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LYDIA
The loud, clanging noise jolted me awake, and my head immediately throbbed in protest. I sat up slowly, groaning as I rubbed my temples. Across the room, Nate and Tyler were laughing hysterically, holding a pair of pans that they clearly had been smashing together.
Miles groaned next to me, burying his face in his arm. "Why would you do that?" He murmured, his voice muffled.
Tyler shrugged, his grin wide. "We thought it was funny."
Isabelle fake laughed from the sectional where she was sprawled out. "Hilarious," she muttered before flopping back down, pulling a blanket over her head.
I glanced around, realizing Miles and I were among the few who had been sleeping on the floor. Delilah had claimed part of the sectional, while Isabelle and Julian were sharing the other half. The rest of us-me, Miles, Nate, and Tyler-had ended up on the floor.
Miles had used my shoulder as a pillow for most of the night, and now both my shoulder and neck ached. Combined with the pounding of my head, I felt awful.
"It's 2 in the afternoon, anyway," Tyler said with a smirk. "You guys needed to get up."
I gasped, my eyes widening as I sat up quickly. "Shoot!" I said under my breath, stumbling a bit as I scrambled for my phone. My heart sank when I saw the notifications: 30 missed texts and 8 calls from Dad, and 10 missed texts and 1 call from Buck.
I groaned, placing a hand on my forehead. This was bad. Really bad.
Grabbing my car keys, I headed toward the door. Isabelle looked up from the couch, her brow furrowed. "Where are you going?"
"My dad told me to be back by 11," I said, my voice tight with panic.
Isabelle winced, rushing over to give me a quick hug. "Thanks for coming," she said.
"Thanks for letting me," I replied, before rushing out the door.
********
When I walked into the house, I immediately spotted Dad and Buck sitting on the couch. Both of them looked furious, their expressions tight with frustration. My stomach churned, knowing this was not going to end well.
Dad stood up, crossing his arms. "Where have you been, Lydia. And why haven't you been answering your phone?"
I bit my lip, trying to stay calm. "We overslept," I explained. "I just woke up like fifteen minutes ago. As soon as I saw the time, I grabbed my phone and rushed here."
Buck leaned forward, his frustration evident. "You should've called your dad as soon as you saw the messages."
I sighed, the ache of my head making it harder to keep my composure. "I didn't call because you guys would've yelled at me over the phone, and my head hurts enough."
Dad's jaw tightened. "We have a right to yell at you, Lydia. We were worried like hell!"
"I understand that," I said, my voice soft but firm. "But all that happened was that I overslept. It's not like I was out doing something dangerous."
He rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever," he muttered, before walking into the kitchen.
Buck shot me a disappointed look but didn't say anything, following Dad into the kitchen.
I sighed deeply, exhaustion weighing on me. Heading to my room, I dropped my backpack onto the floor and collapsed onto my bed.
I thought about taking some medicine for my headache, but the nausea rolling through me made the idea of eating anything unbearable. Instead, I draped my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the light and noise.
