desertion

121

LYDIA

The nightmare came fast, faster than I expected. I had barely been asleep for an hour when it hit me like a truck, ripping me out of whatever fragile peace I had managed to find.

In the dream, I was back at the house-our house. Only it wasn't ours anymore. It was dark, too dark, and every room felt like it was closing in on me. I could hear footsteps, whispers calling my name, but I couldn't see anyone. I ran and ran, but the whispers got louder, and then there was a hand-cold and clammy-grabbing my wrist.

I bolted upright, gasping for air, the darkness of my room swallowing me whole. My chest was heaving, and my hands automatically flew to my hair, tugging furiously at the roots like it would somehow ground me.

I'm tired. No, I'm exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that doesn't go away with sleep, that settles deep into your bones and makes every step feel like you're dragging the weight of the world behind you. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't live like this.

I throw the covers off and get out of bed, pacing the small space of my room. The walls feel like they're caving in, like they're mocking me for pretending I'm okay when I'm anything but. My hands are still in my hair, pulling, tugging, trying to find some kind of release for the storm raging in my head.

There's someone else out there. There has to be.

Nothing is ever this easy. You don't just catch the bad guy and move on. Life doesn't work like that, not for me. I know there's still a piece of this puzzle missing, something lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I don't know how long I've been pacing when the door creaks open. The sound makes me jump, my heart pounding as I whip around. Dad stands in the doorway, his face shadowed but unmistakably concerned.

"Lydia?" His voice is soft, careful, like he's afraid I might shatter if he speaks too loudly.

I stare at him, my chest still heaving, my hands frozen mid-pull in my hair. My throat tightens, and for a moment, I think I might actually cry. I want to. I want to throw myself at him and scream and ask him what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to keep going when it feels like my body and mind are giving up on me.

But I can't.

I don't move. I just stand there, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

He steps into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His movements are slow, deliberate, and when he gets close enough, he pulls me into his arms without a word.

The moment his arms wrap around me, I break.

I break in a way I haven't let myself in weeks.

The sobs come hard and fast, my body trembling as I clutch at his shirt like it's the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. "I'm tired," I whisper, the words tumbling out over and over again. "I'm tired, Dad. I'm so tired."

"I know," he murmurs, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. "I know, baby. I've got you."

I don't know how long we stand there, but eventually, he guides me to the bed. I sit down, my legs feeling like jelly, and he sits beside me, his arm still around my shoulders.

"Talk to me, Lydia," he says gently. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

I shake my head, my throat burning from crying. "I can't... I can't do this anymore, Dad. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"You're not losing your mind," he says firmly. "You've been through so much, more than anyone should ever have to. It's okay to feel like this."

"It's not okay," I snap, my voice cracking. "It's not okay because it's never going to stop. Even with him caught, I still feel like there's someone else out there. Like I can't breathe because the second I do, something's going to happen. Something worse."

He's quiet for a moment, his hand still rubbing my back. "You've been carrying this all by yourself, haven't you?"

I nod, biting my lip to keep the tears at bay.

"You don't have to, Lydia," he says softly. "You've got me, Buck, Athena, Miles, everyone. We're all here for you. You just have to let us in."

"I don't know how," I whisper.

"Start with the little things," he suggests. "Let someone help you. Talk to Miles, or Buck, or even me. You don't have to do this alone, Lydia."

I nod again, though I'm not sure I believe him. It's not that I don't trust them-it's that I don't trust myself.

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You're stronger than you think, kiddo. And you're not alone. Not now, not ever."

The words settle in my chest, heavy but comforting.

We sit there in silence for a while, and eventually, the exhaustion takes over. My head leans against his shoulder, and before I know it, I'm drifting off.

For the first time in weeks, I feel just a little bit lighter.