Lost

Stay Here

I arrived home, throwing my bag onto my bed and staring up at the ceiling, listening for my phone to buzz annoyingly. It was all I really did, I didn't need to feed Angel or Lucifer. I didn't need to do chores like other people. I didn't even have a job. So I often sat here, doing nothing until I received a text from our group chat. I'd sit there for hours doing nothing but staring. Letting my eyes glaze over and my mind run wild. Never a good thing.

I thought of lots of things, some grim, some calm and nice. This one happened the be a memory. My dad rushing me into the hospital, everything blurred, I was only four at the time but I remember them. I remember their sad smiles. One, she was sleeping, I think. The other wide awake, reaching for me, her voice hoarse. She spoke my name so many times, it was hard to keep track of it. I wandered over, her hand weakly cupped my cheek and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. She then-

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of my phone. Quick and needy. How long had I been ignoring them?

It was primarily Olivia's frantic texting:

Olivia : I know
Olivia : I know
Olivia : I know
Olivia : I know how to breathe I'm fine
Olivia : ish
Olivia : I just
Olivia : alone

She had a pretty bad fear of being alone. It's likely shed been left home alone.

Jack : Olivia,do you want anyone to come over?
Olivia : nononononononomomlomononomono
Olivia : I can't bug you like that
Kat : Via I'm coming over
Olivia : no not you
Kat : who do you want to come over then?
Olivia : Ollie.

I jumped a little, almost dropping my phone, me? Their conversation continued on, probably now trying to get me to agree to go to her place. Olivia was a rather threatening character. See, when she has a panic attack she strategically picks to have the person causing the anxiety to come over. I wasn't in a mood to be guilt tripped right now. But they would probably drag me to Olivia's house if I said no. I had no choice here.

Ollie : I'm on my way

I'm prepared to die.

___

I didn't bother knocking. I entered the house, "Via?" I called into no where. I didn't anticipate a response.

I then recieved a text, it read, 'bedrooom'. So that's where I went. We all knew each other's houses rather well, for times like this. Again, not bothering to knock I pushed open the white door. I knew all of her safety spots. Checking each one and finding her in her closet. Well, I saw her mop of red frizzy hair and called it good. I picked up her shaking body, humming softly. She wasn't easy to carry, but I try, right? I placed her on her all too fluffy bed, sitting on the edge.

We didn't speak for a long while until I felt her arms wrap around me gently. "I hate you." Just what I expected from her. Olivia was often like this, her actions said one thing while her words told the opposite. Frustrating if you ask me.

I sighed, "Tell me about it, so, where's my lecture?" Often she'd give a famous lecture for doing something causing the anxiety. But she didn't speak, only shaking her head, this in turn caused me to shake my own, "You seriously didn't call me over just to hug me and say you hate me, right?" Oh I'm laughing a little, she's laughing a little, now nodding, "Oh, Via, that's cruel, that's really cruel." Her laughter persisted as she nuzzled me shoulder, she's kind of sweet if you ignore her comments.

We remained like this for a long while, seeming like a few million forevers. Time slowed in the peaceful tranquility that was angry Via. Then she gave me a smug grin, "Stay over for dinner?" She asked, no, pleaded. It wasn't a verbal pleading either, it was the pleading that you'd hear under their sweet voice. The pleading you see in such round, perfect blue eyes, the kind where if you said no you were a heartless, cruel human.

So I had to nod.

The thought appalled me yet I still had to nod. I couldn't crush little Via like that. Even if she has the rage of thousands of feminists (without the feminism, mind you) she still was our sweet Via. Our little baby whom which we loved and adored and praised. Our red haired bottle of rage.

She smirked, the look almost scaring me. He plan had been set in motion. Time to be scared. This isn't a time for almost. She grabbed my hand, dragging me downstairs. I left my mind and appetite up there, on the edge of her bed. I was more worried about this plan than I was anything else. She sat me down at the table, grinning, "Stay here."