It Was an accident

Let Them Rain

Lydia was there, sitting on a wall, and looking at her, seemed to be contemplating something non-existent now. It was all over. The problems were gone, but she ... She was destroyed.

Whenever Stiles tried to speak to her, she either did not answer him, or did not look him in the face, or, often, looked at him so badly that the boy fell silent and went reluctantly.

When the sun had gone down, Lydia was still there, in the middle of her nineteen years, with her curls becoming one with the sunset, while a red sun stood out on the horizon waiting to go to sleep.

When she saw a message on her cell phone, she got worried and got out of the wall. She gave an answer to Scott, the sender of the first message, and took the car.

Driving up to his Alpha house, she got out and, slamming against the uneven surface of the asphalt, the pair of heels she had, rushed to the door.

<< What's up?! >>

She had the strength to say, once the door was opened. For many, the scenario presented to her was a source of sadness. But for her only the cold.

The void.

Stiles was sitting on the steps, Derek stroking his back with one hand and whispering something in his ear.
Was Stiles the victim now? After all he had done, did he even dare to cry?
Lydia looked at him, then looked at Scott and shook her head.

A new trace of acidity and coldness seized Lydia's dull, tired eyes. It was empty, it no longer had any kind of emotion within it. Cold as ice, hard as marble.

<< Did you call me for this? >>

The alpha nodded in assent and the girl laughed so as to show all the bitterness in her body, the rancor and the anger.

<< What? Should I talk to him? I have nothing to say to him. >>

....

Yet Scott had heard, that as soon as he entered the house, the Banshee had lost a beat.