lydia c. martin. 17 years young. banshee.
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{ snap. it is a simple sound. it could be the snap of a branch
or the crack of one’s knuckles as others grimace and wince.
or it could be the sound that one’s neck makes when it
breaks. lydia martin was imagining that sound right now.
she figured that that would be the sound that brunski’s
cervical vertabrae would make. unless, he would go out
quietly. the concept of murder was an unfamiliar one but
lydia had never wanted to kill anyone more than she did
in this exact moment. }
{ lydia doesn’t quite know how to describe the sound that a
taser makes. her mother had given her pepper spray with words
of encouragement. lydia had looked up self defense moves and
had commited them to her eidetic memory. pepper spray was
useless in a true emergency. like, lydia mused, this one. her eyes
met with brunski’s and her fingers grazed stiles’ as she tilted her
head, fiery curls moving in a wave. the tape was still playing but
the ringing in her ears had grown louder and louder and louder.
so loud, in fact, that lydia couldn’t even hear stiles’ words about
how she should focus on his voice. }
{ the breathing on the tape stops. and so does lydia’s morality.
who cares about empathy or the consequences of murder when
you are about to be murdered by someone who considers themselves
an angel. in actuality, all brunski is his supposed version of god.
lydia is about to send him to meet his maker. her eyes slide shut slowly.
and then they open again. calculations flit through her at a rapid-fire pace.
talk. don’t talk. keep him distracted. don’t let him look at your hands. don’t
let him see that you are unbinding yourself and stiles. lydia does all of those
things. girl scouts taught her to tie and untie a knot. lydia taught herself how
to do it quickly. she doesn’t care that she could be killed while doing this.
she cares about the fact that either way, if lydia doesn’t do something, they
might die. }
{ careful eyes meet with brunski’s and she asks him to bring her something
to drink. one last cup of water before they die. and then her fingers tap stiles’
wrist twice… three times… four. they are free but they are not prepared. there
is no battle plan. there is no proper way to kill someone. her hands move as
as brunski is out of the door. she is standing, turning, eyes searching every
spot until she grabs the needle that he intended to stab her with. yes, this
– this will work nicely. }
“ Stiles. When he comes back in here,
I will take care of it. ”
{ she can’t ask him to help her. the very thought is absurd. and besides,
she knows that he won’t turn her in. }
“ – But if you are going to try to stop me,
I will be forced to stop you. I’m terribly
sorry that you were dragged into this
mess. ”
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bravexbanshee reblogged this from alwaysfiguresitout-archive and added: ▉ ▊ ▋♔♔ ▉ ▊ ▋ ——— innocence died SCREAMING. { his eyes. oh the innocence that she found there was staggering, addicting....