the kindling and the spark

alwaysfiguresitout:

     [ Brunski’s breath smells stale and assaults Stiles’s nostrils as the attendant hisses against the teenager’s ear and then turns to Lydia, opening up the first aid kit and taking out the prescribed drug which will be their undoing.

                            Teen sleuth suicide or Beacon Hills Babes Suicide Pact 

         It had a nice alliterative ring to it and Stiles was sure the newspapers would play up the tragic backstory of two bright beacon hills students going into places they shouldn’t have gone into. But god, how Stiles wanted to inject that lethal poison into Brunski’s own veins, watch as he shuddered for breath and his body went paralyzed and limp. Stiles had imagined hundreds of deaths for this particularly arrogant and repulsive orderly.  

        Justice, if they died, would probably never come for these two teens. The assassins and other rogue individuals would hunt down the rest of their pack because the most clever and morally gray of the group would be gone.

         Vanished. Disappeared.

                          _{Lowered down into hollow boxes into deep graves.}

                                               No chance for retribution or revenge. 

           ”I won’t try to stop you, Lydia. I want to help.
           I n e e d to help you with this.”

                                [    The words murder or kill or slain are never spoken
                                     between them but as the bindings fall loose and Stiles
                                    locks his wrists together to pretend like they’re still tied,
                                    the teenager knows.

    He knows what they’re about to do and what satisfaction
    they’ll received from injecting the man with his own prescription
   and watching the life fade from someone else’s eyes rather
    than their own friend’s.   ] 

_{{ numbers and permutations. they are neat things.
they fit into an order. however, plotting to murder
someone does not have an order and that makes
lydia slightly uncomfortable in the back of her
mind. if she had ever thought of her murder in its
full context, she would have noticed that the
concept of taking another’s life did not scare
her. what did scare her, was the concept of
retribution. }}

_{{ lydia could not see the future. she did not know
where the proverbial dice would fall. would it fall
on an even number and trigger a number of endings
that looked nice and happy? or would it fall on an
odd and end with their pack looking at the pair of
them like they were insane? little red and the boy
with the bat. maybe their names would be whispered
around multiple crime rings. lydia had always craved
something like that– fame. but if she got it from
murdering someone, there would be a chance that
she wouldn’t get it for being the second female
recipient of the fields medal. }}

_{{ lydia smiles at his words. stiles is a bright boy.
he knows what they are about to do. and the fact
that he is not turning away makes her adore him
even more. idly, she wonders what he’ll look like
with blood on those hands, and by extension,
those fingers. she knows that she will find out in
a moment. calmly, she sits back down and makes
it look as though she is bound again, fingers finding
his and squeezing for a milisecond as the door bursts
open. it’s too easy to project terror in her voice as
she begs him to spare her life. and then it’s too easy
for her to stab him through the neck with the syringe,
creating a hole that he can’t even attempt to breathe
out of. }}

_{“ Do you want to do the honors, Stiles? ”}

_{{ curious and curiouser. brunski doesn’t even look shocked
by the change of events as lydia carefully concocts her story,
imagining the tears that she will have to cry to make it look like
it was self-defense. and it was… to some extent. it goes unspoken
that she wants to see stiles paint his hands red. she wants to
help him but lydia can show some restraint. the best laid plans
never go awry, after all. }} 

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   ▉ ▊ ▋♔♔ ▉ ▊ ▋ ——— innocence died SCREAMING. { his eyes. oh the innocence that she found there was staggering, addicting....