Fight for Me

Chapter 78

TW: This chapter has self harm in it, feel free to skip as nothing critical to the plot occurs!

Lydia, meanwhile was trying to stop her thoughts altogether as they began to spiral out of control. She wanted to know why she and her father hadn't been enough to keep her mum from falling back into her addiction. It was clear that she was able to abstain, she was doing it now for her new husband, what did he have that her father didn't?

She groaned as she squeezed her eyes shut, frustrated that the thoughts were still invading her mind despite her best attempts to focus something, anything else. She had turned the water cold, trying to center her thoughts around the numbing feeling over her skin as the freezing temperatures pelted it mercilessly, but to no avail. She had tried to distract herself with song, but all that accomplished was forcing her to think about her time at the Rose Foundation while her mother was apparently off healing and falling in love.

To think after years of despising her mother, Lydia was beginning to grow jealous. She managed to get out of her addiction-fueled life, but Lydia just fell into one that was worse. Sure, she no longer used, but to be forced into crime, living off of scraps from each performance was much worse. Then everything in the past year that had happened, losing two of her best friends and becoming an assassin to save the other two. She doubted her mother realised how lucky she was for getting out.

Lydia dried her body off as she stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair up in a towel as she slipped on her undergarments. Her gaze fell upon her reflection in the mirror, travelling down her body to land on the pink 'M' scarred into her stomach. Her blood boiled and she felt sick as she stared at the reminder that she would never truly be free from the Rose Foundation, from Moriarty.

He was taunting her, allowing her to enjoy just a taste of happiness before finally delivering her punishment. But Lydia was not naïve enough to believe that she would ever be out of his grasp. He owned her.

Her mind fogged with anger and desperation, Lydia reached into the cabinet for one of Sherlock's extra double-edged razor blades. She brought it down to the scar on her stomach, the stainless steel cool beneath her fingertips. Resting for a moment atop the skin, Lydia took a deep breath and let her eyes squeeze shut. She wouldn't belong to him anymore, she would find a way to free herself.

At first she didn't quite feel the pain as the blade cut open her skin, but a moment after her body became aware of the overwhelming stinging sensation. Through clenched teeth, Lydia was able to keep her reaction to a muffled cry and dug the razor in deeper as she tried to maim the scar Moriarty had left on her body.

The shallower wounds begin to bleed profusely, covering her stomach, the blade, and her fingertips with a slick crimson. Tears began to well up in her eyes, although she was unsure if they were because of the emotional or physical pain. Lost in her determination to rid herself from Moriarty's stamp, she failed to hear Sherlock's knock on the door, asking if she was alright.

This, in turn, tipped him off to something being wrong and he threw the door open, his face going pale at the sight of Lydia covered in blood. He panicked for a moment, unsure what to do, until his brain finally leapt into action.

"John, get in here!" He called out as he rushed to Lydia's side, taking the blade from her and throwing it on to the counter so she couldn't make the wounds any worse. As he touched her, Lydia became aware of his presence, whipping towards him with wide eyes as she waited to be reprimanded. However, it didn't appear that Sherlock was angry with her, the look in his eyes read more as fear.

John came rushing in, freezing in shock as he took in the sight in front of him. Lydia looked down at her stomach, now coated red and realisation washed over her as to what she had been doing. The sudden jolt back into reality caused her to sway on her feet, Sherlock quickly grabbing hold of her so that he could help her to a seated position.