Something in between (ON HOLD BC OF WORK)

02; D for Drunk

It'd been four months since Allison died. And the days just seemed to grow slower and longer without her. Losing her best friend, her sister, had left a huge void inside of her and a great deal of pain.

What hurt her the most these days was the feeling of being stuck. Not being capable to move on, like everyone else did. Scott had been hurting, was still hurting, just as much as her. But even he had found a way to keep on living his life. And Lydia just wanted to know how he did that. She wanted to move on too. The banshee was sick of the void that kept on reminding her that Allison was dead and was never coming back to her.

Earlier this week she had actually gone to see Melissa McCall, to talk about how she felt and see if the nurse had any good tips on how to forget and drown away the pain and move on. She had been kind and understanding. She held Lydia's hand when her spirit broke and tears were running down her cheeks. But she didn't tell her anything the redhead hadn't been told before.

The pain will never truly go away, it will just start hurting less. You just lost someone very special to you; you need to give it time. It takes time to heal, give yourself the time. Maybe you should see a grief counselor?

Lydia didn't want to go to counseling. She was hurting, yes, but she didn't need therapy. The only therapy Lydia Martin needed would be alcohol. Alcohol was always the answer if you wanted a night to forget something, or someone.

So, she decided she would get real drunk a Wednesday her mother was leaving for a spa trip, a trip Lydia almost forced on her mom, saying it would do good on her aging looks. When her mother left, Lydia packed out her favorite wine and decided to start her therapy session early. The clock was merely 7:00 pm when she could feel her head spin like crazy and her body slightly lose control of its movements.

By 8:00 she was on the kitchen floor, drunk as fuck, dancing to loud music of Lady Gaga. The volume was on it's highest, blasting the speaker and making the room vibrate. It was a weak attempt to remove Allison's voice from her head.

She was well aware her music was loud enough for Scott to hear it. When she gave it a thought, this unhealthy therapy she was having right now, might've not been an attempt to forget but a loud cry for help. Maybe she just wanted someone to see how much pain she was in and how close she was to completely fall apart. If Allison was there, she would have given her a tight hug, to then smack her and tell her to take control over her life again.

But Allison wasn't there to anchor her anymore. No one was there to anchor her. No one was there at all. Except from Lady Gaga, her loud music and her favorite bottle of red wine. And with that in mind, she began swinging around the kitchen again.

Derek had no idea how he had ended up outside Lydia Martin's house. He had simply gone out for a walk and now he was standing outside her home watching her through the kitchen windows, listening to some song about poker faces.

There were many smells that hit his nose, but the combo of alcohol, tears and pasta hit him the most. Now that he was here, kind of seeing the condition the young redhead was in, he wasn't really sure whether or not he should just keep an eye on her from the outside or if he should knock and keep her company.

The former was way more tempting, but that surely didn't stop him from walking to the front side of her house and knocking firm on the wooden door he found himself in front of. Derek could hear her making her way, clumsily, towards the door and before he could regret his decision and walk away, the door opened.

"Hale," was all she said, matter-of-factly. Derek let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. The young woman standing in front of him didn't look like the Lydia Martin he knew at all. She was wearing a oversized, green t-shirt and grey sweatpants.