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
I stood at the sink, scrubbing the last of the dinner plates. The hum of the dishwasher filled the quiet kitchen, and I glanced at the clock. 9:42 PM. Christopher had gone to bed about an hour ago, and now it was just me, trying to help Dad out by keeping the house in order while he worked his overnight shift.
The house felt too quiet. I shook off the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine and dried my hands on a dish towel. I'd been keeping busy all evening, cleaning up, folding laundry, even organizing the pantry. Anything to distract myself from the stillness.
I was about to head to the living room when a sharp, loud crash came from my bedroom.
I froze. My heart leaped into my throat as my grip tightened on the towel. My mind raced. What was that?
For a moment, I couldn't move. My feet felt glued to the floor as I stared down the hallway leading to my room. The house was supposed to be safe. Chris was supposed to be safe.
Taking a shaky breath, I forced my legs to move. The closer I got to my room, the more I noticed the chill in the air. Something was wrong.
I pushed the door open and stopped dead in my tracks.
The window.
Shattered glass littered the floor, and the cold night air swept into the room. My breath caught as I spotted something on the floor-a card, lying amidst the shards of glass.
I knelt down, my hands trembling as I picked it up. My name was written on the front in perfect cursive, the ink a rich blue. My stomach churned, and I hesitated before flipping it over.
The moment I opened the card, my chest tightened.
Photos.
My car in the driveway. Me behind the register at work. Me tossing pizza dough. My every move, captured.
My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the card. I felt sick, like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Someone had been watching me. Following me. They know where I live.
I grabbed my phone, fumbling with the screen as I scrolled to Athena's contact. When she answered, her familiar voice brought a small wave of relief.
"Hey, baby," she said warmly.
But I couldn't hide the tremor in my voice. "Are you on duty?"
Athena hesitated, her tone shifting. "I am. What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Can you come to the house?" I asked, my words rushed and shaky.
"What's going on?" she asked, alarm creeping into her voice.
"Please, just come," I begged, barely able to keep my composure.
"I'll be there soon," she promised.
The line went dead, and I stayed frozen on the floor, clutching the photos. The sound of glass crunching beneath my shoes filled the room as I sat back against the wall, my knees pulled to my chest.
When Athena arrived, she didn't knock-she rushed straight to my room. The second she saw the broken window and the state I was in, her face hardened.
"Lydia," she said gently, crouching down beside me. "What happened?"
I held up the card and the photos, my voice barely above a whisper. "Someone broke the window and threw this inside."
Her eyes widened as she took the photos, flipping through them. "Oh my God," she muttered, standing quickly and speaking into her radio. She called out a code, her voice firm and commanding.
"Don't worry, baby," she said, looking back at me. "We're going to figure this out."
Backup arrived quickly, and soon the house was filled with officers. One of them knelt in front of me, asking questions I could barely process.
"Do you know anyone who might want to hurt you?"
"When did you notice the window was broken?"
"Have you seen anyone suspicious around the house?"
I couldn't answer. My mouth felt dry, my head spinning. I was too focused on the photos. Someone had been watching me.
An officer suggested I stay with Dad at the firehouse. Athena nodded in agreement, and before I knew it, she was gently guiding me to her car. My movements felt robotic, like I was on autopilot.
When she brought Chris out, he looked up at me with sleepy confusion. I forced a small smile, not wanting to scare him, but my hands were still shaking.
In the car, Athena glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Do you want to call Miles?" she asked softly.
"No," I said, my voice barely audible. I hugged my knees to my chest, staring out the window as we drove to the station.
When we arrived, the 118 was already walking toward us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern.
"What's going on?" Buck asked, his eyes darting between me and Athena.
Athena explained everything-the broken window, the card, the photos. Buck's jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might punch something. Dad's face, on the other hand, was filled with worry and fear.
"We're taking them to the bunks," Athena said, her voice steady. "They need to get some rest."
Dad nodded, his eyes meeting mine. "We'll keep you safe, Lydia. I promise."
But as I lay on the bunk, staring at the ceiling, sleep felt impossible.
Someone was watching me. They wanted something. But what?
