Storm- Stiles Stilinski

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It took me exactly two days and seven hours before I got out of bed.

My body was still weak from from the effects of the virus but that wasn't what kept me bound to my bed, afraid to close my eyes because everytime I did, all I saw was the man pointing the gun at us and all I could hear was the whisper of Stiles' voice telling me to close my eyes.

My voicemail was full to the brim with messages from Stiles and Lydia and Scott.

"Hey Lucinda, it's Lydia. Is everything okay? You weren't at school today and I was just wondering...."

"Lucinda? It's Scott. I know it's much harder for you to deal with things like this because you haven't been in our world for vey long but just know that..."

"Luce. It's me. I uh- I need you to pick up. I just need to hear your voice, okay. I need to know you're okay. Well you're obviousy not okay, I mean, none of us are but I um, I don't know. Just call me back."

I couldn't bear the thought of facing them again, after I couldn't save them, but I also couldn't bear being alone.

There was something about the quiet that made it easier for the shadows to sneak into my head. So I blasted my music, so loud I couldn't hear anything except the thrum of the base, resonating through my body as I cried myself to sleep.

On the morning of the third day, the tuesday, I got up.

I couldn't be still anymore. I needed to see people and go to class and get on with my life.

So that is what I did.

I took a shower and washed away the darkness that surrounded me. I pulled on clean clothes that smelled like the wind and I painted on a brave face.

When I came down the stairs, Dad wasn't there and I thanked my lucky stars. I didn't have the energy to lie to him today. I bypassed breakfast and went straight to school, windows down, music thumping, wind tossling my allready messy hair.

I didn't stop to speak to anyone on my way to my locker, I just marched on keeping my face nuetral, my emotions hidden under a thick layer of suppression.

That is, until I rounded the corner and there was Stiles, leaning against my locker, craning his head, his eyes searching, searching, searching until they found me.

Our gazes locked and all that supressed emotion came flooding back to the surface, the force of it almost crippling. My feet faltered and I fought the urge to turn and run.

I didn't. Instead I walked carefully up to my locker and gave him a polite look.

"Excuse me." I mumbled.

He did move. But not to the side like I wanted him to, but forward until we were devastatingly close. I didn't dare look at him.

"Luce." He breathed.

He reached out to touch me but I side stepped around him, opening my locker and quickly shuffling through my books to find the right one.

"Luce, please."

I pulled out the book and stuffed it into my bag.

"Look at me."

I slammed the locker door closed.

"I can't." I cried.

I could feel the ghost of his fingers on my arm.

"When I look at you, all I see is the man and the gun and the blood and I just can't, Stiles. It's too much." I said quickly and quietly.

I turned to go but I barely got two steps when his warm hand closed around my arm and turned me so that we collided. He wrapped his long arms around me and pressed his face into my messy hair.