𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝘅 / ❛ man, these aren't real nilla wafers ❜

[ episode five, the flea and the acrobat ]

As the soft melody of "Every Breath You Take" filled the room, Lydia stood in front of her mirror, her reflection framed by the dim light filtering in through the curtains. She wore a simple yet elegant black dress, its fabric gently clinging to her slender frame. Her shoulders were bare, adorned only by a delicate star necklace that glimmered in the subdued light. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail secured by a black scrunchie, she looked poised and composed, but inside, her heart was heavy with conflicting emotions.

Taking a deep breath, Lydia met her own gaze in the mirror, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and determination. She knew she had to stay strong for Will's funeral, to be there for her friends and family in their time of need. But beneath the facade of composure, guilt gnawed at her conscience like a persistent ache.

As if sensing her daughter's inner turmoil, Mary-Anne entered the room, her presence a comforting anchor in the sea of emotions swirling within Lydia. Placing a gentle hand on Lydia's shoulder, she offered a sympathetic smile, her eyes brimming with understanding.

"I know this isn't easy for you, sweetheart," Mary-Anne said softly, her voice laced with warmth and compassion. "Losing a friend is never easy, especially at such a young age."

Lydia nodded, unable to meet her mother's gaze as a wave of guilt washed over her. How could she mourn Will when she knew he and Alex were alive, trapped somewhere beyond their reach? The weight of her secret pressed down on her like a leaden weight, threatening to suffocate her with its silent burden.

Torn between the desire to confide in her mother and the fear of betraying her friends' trust, Lydia remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line of uncertainty. She wanted to scream, to shout the truth to the world and rid herself of the guilt that threatened to consume her from within. But she couldn't—not yet.

For now, all she could do was nod silently, her heart heavy with the weight of her unspoken truth. As Mary-Anne enveloped her in a comforting embrace, Lydia closed her eyes, willing herself to find solace in her mother's presence, if only for a fleeting moment.

Lydia's heart weighed heavy as she pedaled her bike down the familiar streets of Hawkins. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the pavement like fingers of twilight. She had hoped to find solace in comforting Alex's parents, to offer them a shoulder to lean on in their time of need. But as she approached their house, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach when no one answered her repeated knocks on the door.

With a heavy sigh, Lydia turned away from the empty house, her resolve unwavering. She couldn't let her friends down, not when they needed her the most. Determination set in her jaw as she steered her bike toward the Byers' home, hoping to find solace in the company of Jonathan or Joyce.

As she reached the familiar front porch, Lydia hesitated for a moment, her hand poised to knock on the door. What if she was intruding? What if they didn't want her there? Pushing aside her doubts, she rapped sharply on the wooden surface, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood.

After a few moments, the door swung open, revealing Jonathan standing on the threshold, his usually disheveled appearance even more rumpled than usual. His hair was tousled, and his shirt collar askew, but it was the expression in his eyes that caught Lydia off guard—a mixture of grief and exhaustion that mirrored her own.

"Sorry to burst in," Lydia began, her voice soft and tentative. "I'm Lydia."

"I know who you are," Jonathan replied, his tone curt but not unkind. There was a beat of silence as Jonathan studied her, his gaze searching. Then, as if reaching a decision, he stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. "Come in," he said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation.

As Lydia crossed the threshold into the dimly lit foyer, she felt a rush of gratitude wash over her. She had expected Jonathan to turn her away, to shut the door in her face. But instead, he had welcomed her with open arms, offering her the solace she so desperately sought.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the house.

Jonathan offered her a faint smile in return, his eyes reflecting the weight of their shared grief. "You're welcome," he replied softly.

"Jonathan," she began softly, her voice laced with empathy, "I know this must be really hard for you. For all of us."

Jonathan's gaze flickered to meet hers, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's—it's been tough."

Lydia nodded in understanding, the weight of their shared grief settling heavily upon her shoulders. "Will's... he's lucky to have you," she murmured, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the house. "You've always been there for him, no matter what."

Jonathan's expression softened, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Lydia," he replied quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. "That means a lot."

As they stood there in the dimly lit foyer, enveloped in the heavy silence that surrounded them, Lydia felt a sense of kinship with Jonathan—a shared understanding of the pain they both carried in their hearts.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・

The air in the somber funeral hall hung heavy with grief as Lydia stood next to Mike and Dustin, their presence offering a silent comfort amidst the sea of mourners. Dustin's voice broke through the solemn silence, his tone hushed yet unmistakably mischievous. "Wait till we tell Will Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral."

Lucas shot him a disapproving glance. "She's crying for Alex, dummy," he murmured.

Before Dustin could retort, a gentle "shh" from Karen Wheeler, Mike's mom, silenced the boys. They exchanged sheepish glances before turning their attention back to the front of the room.

A solemn man stood at the podium, his voice resonating with the weight of the words he spoke—a passage from the Bible that made Lydia wince inwardly. Instinctively, she reached out and grasped Mike's hand, seeking solace in the warmth of his touch.

Mike's cheeks flushed faintly at the unexpected contact, but he made no move to pull away. Instead, he squeezed Lydia's hand gently, his silent gesture of support echoing the unspoken bond that had formed between them.

For a fleeting moment, Lydia's heart skipped a beat as she realized the intimacy of their connection. She could barely breathe as she processed the significance of her actions, her hand trembling slightly in Mike's grasp.

Beside her, Mike's expression mirrored her own—a mixture of uncertainty and quiet determination. And as they stood there, their hands entwined in silent solidarity, Lydia couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them both.

As the recitation came to an end, Lydia and Mike slowly released each other's hands, a silent understanding passing between them. They exchanged a brief, almost bashful glance before turning to join the crowd in offering their final tributes to Will and Alex.

As the mourners began to file out of the hall, each person clutching a single rose to place upon the two coffins. Lucas approached Lydia with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He couldn't resist the opportunity to tease her about the hand-holding moment he'd witnessed. Placing a hand gently on her shoulder, he leaned in with a playful smirk.

"Looks like someone's got an admirer," Lucas teased, his tone light but comforting. "You and Mike, huh? Who would've thought?"

As Lucas teased Lydia about her unexpected connection with Mike, Lydia couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and amusement. "What do you mean?" she asked, furrowing her brow slightly.

With a shrug and a smirk, Lucas replied, "I mean, come on, Lydia. You're like, Lydia Marshal. Everyone loves you. And Mike's kind of a loser."

Lydia's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement at Lucas's blunt assessment. She nudged him playfully, though there was a hint of gratefulness in her eyes. "Thanks, Lucas. Real smooth," she quipped, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Despite the teasing, Lydia appreciated Lucas's attempt to lighten the mood, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth at his familiar presence by her side. With a shared chuckle between them, they continued on their way, their friendship serving as a comforting addition amidst the somber atmosphere of the funeral.

The lights hummed in the building as the group of friends approached him, their expressions a mix of solemnity and curiosity. Mr. Clarke looked up from his desk, his brow furrowing in concern as he took in their somber demeanor.

"Hey, how you guys holding up?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine empathy.

"We're... in mourning," Lucas replied, his tone heavy with the weight of recent events.

Dustin, meanwhile, was preoccupied with the snack table, his mouth full as he munched on a Nilla wafer. "Man, these aren't real Nilla wafers," he grumbled between chews.

Ignoring Dustin's complaint, Lydia sidled up to the table and plucked a jam donut ball from the tray, her eyes scanning Mr. Clarke's face for any sign of recognition.

Mike cleared his throat, drawing Mr. Clarke's attention back to the matter at hand. "Do you have a moment to talk?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

Lucas chimed in, his expression serious. "We have some questions," he added, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Lydia nodded in agreement. "A lot of questions," she interjected, her voice determined.

Mr. Clarke regarded them for a moment, his gaze shifting from one earnest face to the next. With a small nod, he gestured for them to take a seat, indicating that he was ready to listen to whatever inquiries they had to pose.

The atmosphere in the funeral parlor was heavy, the somber melody of mourning hanging in the air like a shroud. Yet, amidst the solemnity, the group of friends found themselves engaged in a conversation that seemed incongruous with the occasion.

"So you know how in Cosmos, Carl Sagan talks about other dimensions, like, beyond our world?" Mike began, his voice low but filled with an earnest curiosity.

Mr. Clarke, seated across from them with his hands interlocked on the table, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, sure, theoretically," he replied, his brow furrowing slightly.

Lydia couldn't help but smile at the mention of one of her favorite shows. "So, in the movie, or theoretically, how might we travel there?" she interjected, her eyes alight with intellectual curiosity.

Mr. Clarke leaned back in his chair, considering the question. "You guys have been thinking about Hugh Everett's Many-Worlds interpretation, haven't you?" he observed, his gaze shifting from one eager face to the next.

The group exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of confusion and intrigue. "Well, basically, there are parallel universes. Just like our world, but infinite variations of it. Which means there's a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened," Mr. Clarke explained, his voice tinged with a hint of optimism.

"Yeah, that's not what we were talking about," Lucas interjected, his tone wry as he popped a cookie into his mouth.

"Oh," Mr. Clarke replied, adjusting his glasses. "We were thinking more of an evil dimension, like the Vale of Shadows. You know the Vale of Shadows?" Dustin chimed in, his words muffled by the mouthful of cookie.

"An echo of the material plane, where necrotic and shadow magic—" Mr. Clarke began, only to be cut off by Mike's eager interjection.

"Yeah, exactly. If that did exist, a place like the Vale of Shadows, how would we travel there?" Mike pressed, his eyes alight with anticipation.

"Theoretically," Mr. Clarke reiterated, reaching for a pen and a paper plate. With deft strokes, he began to sketch out his explanation. "Picture an acrobat standing on a tightrope. Now the tightrope is our dimension, and our dimension has rules. You can move forwards, or backwards. But, what if, right next to our acrobat, there is a flea? Now the flea can also travel back and forth, just like the acrobat. Right?"

"Right," the group echoed in unison.

"Here's where things get really interesting. The flea can also travel this way, along the side of the rope. He can even go underneath the rope," Mr. Clarke continued, his expression animated with enthusiasm.

"Upside down," they echoed once more, the realization dawning on them.

"Exactly," Mr. Clarke affirmed, his gaze meeting theirs. "But we're not the flea, we're the acrobat."

"In this metaphor, yes, we're the acrobat," Lydia clarified, her voice tinged with understanding.

"So, we can't go upside down," Lucas concluded, his expression sober.

"No," Mr. Clarke confirmed with a shake of his head. "So, there's no possible way at all for the acrobat to get to the upside down?" Lydia pressed, her brows furrowing in thought.

Mr. Clarke paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "Well, you'd have to create a massive amount of energy. More than humans are currently capable of creating, mind you, to open up some kind of tear in time and space, and then..." He folded the plate in half and poked a hole through it with the pen. "You create a doorway."

"Like a gate?" Dustin ventured, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all—" Mr. Clarke began, only to be interrupted by the chorus of voices around him.

"Theoretical," they finished in unison, their minds buzzing with the possibilities of what lay beyond the confines of their reality.

"But what if this gate already existed?" Mike interjected, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

"Well, if it did, I think we'd know. It would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment. Heck, it might even swallow us up whole. Science is neat, but I'm afraid it's not very forgiving," Mr. Clarke concluded, his tone tinged with a note of caution.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・

The kids gathered around the table after Dustin's dramatic yell, compasses spread out in front of them. Mike leaned in, squinting at the array of needles pointing uniformly.

"What's so exciting about this?" Mike asked, looking up at Dustin.

"Well, they're all facing north, right?" Dustin pointed out.

"Yeah, so?" Lucas shrugged.

"Well, that's not true north," Dustin explained.

Lydia frowned, trying to understand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I just said. That's not true north," Dustin repeated, his voice filled with exasperation.

The others stared at him, clearly clueless. Dustin sighed dramatically. "Are you all seriously this dense?"

Lucas shrugged again, unbothered.

"The sun rises in the east, sets in the west, right?" Dustin continued, pointing towards the window. "Which means that's true north."

"So what you're saying is the compasses are broken?" Mike asked, confusion evident in his voice.

Dustin picked one up, shaking his head. "Do you even understand how a compass works? Do you see a battery pack on this?"

"No," Mike admitted.

"No, you don't, because it doesn't need one. The needle is naturally drawn to the Earth's magnetic north pole," Dustin explained, his voice firm.

"Then what's wrong with them all?" Lydia asked, her brow furrowed.

"Well, that's what I couldn't figure out, but then I remembered. You can change the direction of a compass with a magnet. If there's the presence of a more powerful magnetic field, the needle deflects to that power. And then I remembered what Mr. Clarke said, the gate would have so much power—" Dustin began, excitement creeping into his voice.

"It could disrupt the electromagnetic field," Mike interrupted, his eyes wide with realization.

"Exactly," Dustin confirmed.

"But that means, if we follow the compasses north, then we could find the gate?" Lydia asked, a spark of hope in her eyes.

"Bingo," Dustin said with a triumphant smile.

Lydia's face lit up, a smile forming on her lips. "Yes, Dustin!"

Eleven, sitting a little apart from the group, watched them with wide, fearful eyes, her concern growing as the implications of their discovery sank in.

The sun filters through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Lydia, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Eleven walk along the old train tracks, compasses in hand, focused on finding the gate. The air is cool and crisp, filled with the scent of pine and damp earth.

Lydia walks beside Mike, her eyes flicking between the compass in her hand and the path ahead. Eleven lingers nearby, her expression unreadable.

"Hey, Lyds. You doing okay?" Mike asks quietly.

"Yeah, just a lot on my mind. You know?" Lydia sighs.

"Yeah, I get it. This whole thing is pretty insane." They walk in silence for a few moments, the crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot the only sound. "You know, I've always admired how you handle everything. You're always so—calm."

Lydia laughs lightly. "Trust me, I'm not as calm as I seem. I just try to keep it together for everyone else."

"I get that. I feel like I have to be the leader sometimes, for the group. But it's hard."

"You're a great leader, Mike. We all look up to you. You're brave, and you care about everyone."

Mike blushes slightly, a smile coming across his face. "Thanks, Lyds. That means a lot coming from you."

They continue walking, the path winding deeper into the forest. Lydia glances over at Eleven, who is staring intently at Mike's compass that he had gave her for some entertainment.

"I miss Alex. And Will. It's like there's this big hole, and no matter what we do, we can't fill it," Lydia says softly.

Mike reaches out to touch her shoulder. "We're going to find them. We have to believe that."

Lydia looks at him, her eyes filled with determination and a hint of sadness. "I know. I just wish I could do more. I feel so—helpless."

"You're doing everything you can. We all are. And we're going to get through this. Together."

They share a small, reassuring smile, their bond strengthening in the face of adversity.

"Hey, lovebirds! Focus! We need to find this gate."

"Yeah, you two can hold hands later."

Mike and Lydia both blush. "Alright, alright. Let's keep moving."

They press on, the forest growing darker and more foreboding. Lydia glances at her compass again, feeling a strange unease.

"I hope this works."

As they walk, the group begins to feel a strange pull, as if the compasses are drawing them towards something unseen. Eleven's eyes flicker with worry, but she remains silent, following closely behind them.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・

They found themselves in a junkyard, the air heavy with the scent of rust and decay. Abandoned cars were strewn about like forgotten relics, their metal shells slowly being reclaimed by nature. The group stood there, staring at their compasses in confusion and frustration.

"Oh no," Dustin muttered.

"Oh no? What's oh no?" Lucas's voice was edged with frustration.

Lydia glanced between the two, her eyes scanning the surroundings filled with dumped cars. "We're headed back home," Dustin finally admitted.

"What?" Lydia asked, disbelief in her voice.

"Are you sure?" Lucas's frustration was palpable.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Setting sun, right there. We looped right back around," Dustin explained.

"And you're just realizing this now?" Lucas's tone was accusatory.

"Why is this all on me?" Dustin retorted.

"Because you're the compass genius!" Lucas shot back.

"What do yours say?" Dustin asked.

They all checked their compasses. "North," Lydia, Mike, and Lucas said in unison, their voices tinged with resignation. They sighed collectively, Lydia twisting a strand of hair around her finger, her mind racing with possibilities.

"Makes no damn sense," Dustin muttered, shaking his head.

"Maybe the gate moved," Mike suggested.

"No, I don't think it's the gate. I think it's something else screwing with the compass," Dustin countered.

"Maybe it's something here," Mike said, scanning the junkyard.

"No, it has to be like a super magnet," Dustin insisted.

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows, her gaze slowly shifting behind her to look at Eleven. Eleven stood apart from them, her eyes filled with guilt and tension. Lydia blinked, hoping what she was thinking wasn't true. She glanced at Lucas, who was glaring at Eleven with suspicion and anger.

"It's not a magnet. She's been acting weirder than normal. If she can slam doors with her mind, she can definitely screw up a compass," Lucas declared.

"Why would she do that?" Mike asked, his voice rising in defense of Eleven.

"Because she's trying to sabotage our mission! Because she's a traitor," Lucas accused, stepping towards Eleven. Lydia glanced between them all, anxiety building in her chest.

"Lucas, what are you doing?" Lydia's voice was a mix of concern and confusion.

"You did it, didn't you? You don't want us to reach the gate, you don't want us to find them," Lucas pressed on, grabbing Eleven's arm to look at her jumper. "Fresh blood, I knew it," he said triumphantly.

"Lucas, stop," Lydia muttered, unsure of how to defuse the situation.

"I saw her wiping her nose on the tracks! She was using her powers!" Lucas continued, his voice rising.

"Bull! That's old blood. Right, El?" Mike's voice wavered as he looked at Eleven, desperation in his eyes.

Eleven stared back at them, tears welling up. "Right, El?" Mike repeated, his eyes wide with pleading.

"It's... not," Eleven stuttered. "It's not safe."

"What did I tell you? She's been playing us from the beginning!" Lucas's voice rang out, filled with frustration.

"That's not true, she helped us find Will and Alex!" Mike countered, his voice rising in defense.

"Find them? Find them? Where are they, then, huh? I don't see them!" Lucas threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Yeah, you know what I mean," Mike said, his tone desperate.

"No, I actually don't. Just think about it, Mike. She could've told us where the Upside Down was right away, but she didn't. She just made us run around like headless chickens!" Lucas's accusation hung in the air.

"Alright, calm down!" Dustin tried to step in, but Lucas shoved him away. Lydia took an anxious step back, her heart pounding.

"No! She used us, all of us! She helped just enough so she could get what she wants. Food and a bed. She's like a stray dog," Lucas spat out.

"Screw you, Lucas!" Mike shouted, his face turning red with anger.

"No, screw you, Mike! You're blind, blind because some girl isn't grossed out by you! But wake up, man, wake the hell up! She knows where Will and Alex are, and now she's just letting them die in the Upside Down," Lucas retorted, his words cutting deep.

"Shut up!" Mike's voice was filled with raw emotion.

"For all we know, it's her fault. We're looking for some stupid monster, but did you ever stop to think that maybe she's the monster?" Lucas's accusation was like a punch to the gut.

"I said shut up!" Mike yelled, and the next thing Lydia knew, the two boys were tumbling onto the ground, fists flying.

"Knock it off, you idiots!" Dustin shouted, trying to intervene.

"Stop it!" Eleven's voice was desperate, but the boys continued to grapple with each other, oblivious.

"Stop it!" Eleven screamed again, and suddenly, Lucas was flung into a nearby wall of metal with a powerful force.

"Jesus!" Dustin exclaimed, rushing over to Lucas, with Mike, Lydia, and Dustin all racing to him, their jaws dropped, trying to shake him awake. They repeated his name over and over.

Mike turned around, his face a mask of rage and confusion. "Why would you do that? What's wrong with you?" he yelled at Eleven, who stood there with blood trailing down her nose, tears streaming down her face.

Lydia covered her mouth with her hand, overwhelmed by the chaos unfolding around her. Lucas slowly sat up, all of them breathing a sigh of relief.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Dustin asked, trying to check if Lucas was okay.

"Lucas, let me see your head," Mike said, concern in his voice.

"Get off of me!" Lucas yelled, pushing Mike away.

"Lucas, let me see," Mike insisted, but Lucas shoved him off again.

"Get off of me!" he repeated, beginning to walk away. Lydia took a step to chase after him, but Dustin pulled her back gently.

"Let him go," Dustin said, his voice filled with resignation.

As they stood there, catching their breath and processing what had just happened, Mike suddenly realized something. He turned around, his eyes widening with panic. "El! Eleven!"

Lydia's eyes darted around, her heart sinking. "Eleven?" she called out, her voice trembling.

"El! Eleven!" Mike shouted, his voice echoing through the junkyard. They all looked around frantically, but Eleven was nowhere to be seen.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・

Lydia trudged into her room, the weight of the day's chaos pressing heavily on her shoulders. The sun had set hours ago, leaving her room bathed in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. She barely had the energy to turn it on, but the thought of darkness felt suffocating. Her scrunchie was barely holding her hair together, stray strands framing her tired face. She took it out, letting her hair cascade down her back.

Without changing out of her clothes, she collapsed onto her bed, the mattress creaking slightly under her weight. The soft, familiar scent of her pillow offered a fleeting sense of comfort. Lydia buried her face in it, hoping to muffle the world and its overwhelming demands. Her mind raced with images of Mike and Lucas fighting, Eleven's tear-streaked face, and the endless walking with the compasses that led them nowhere.

She felt a lump form in her throat, tears threatening to spill. She blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. Instead, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her breathing heavy and uneven. After a few moments, she reached for her nightstand drawer, pulling out her journal. The worn leather cover felt familiar and grounding in her hands.

Lydia sat up slowly, leaning against the headboard. She flipped through the pages filled with past thoughts, sketches, and musings until she found a blank one. Her pen hovered over the page for a moment, the weight of her emotions making it hard to find the right words. Finally, she took a deep breath and began to write.

June 10, 1983

' Today was a nightmare.

It started with the hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find Will and Alex. Dustin was so sure about the compasses, and I wanted to believe him. But everything went wrong. The compasses led us in circles, and Lucas... he lost it. I get it, we're all on edge, but seeing him attack Eleven like that was terrifying. I wanted to help, but I felt so helpless.

And Eleven... I don't know what to think. She's been our friend, our guide, but now... Lucas might be right. I don't want to believe it, but what if she's been lying to us this whole time? What if she is the reason we can't find Will and Alex?

Mike defended her, of course. He always does. But even he seemed unsure by the end. The way he yelled at her... I've never seen him like that. It's like everything is falling apart, and I don't know how to hold it together.

Lucas stormed off, and Eleven disappeared. I feel like I'm losing everyone, like the world is spinning out of control, and I can't stop it. I'm so tired. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

This town feels like a cage sometimes. Hawkins is small, suffocating, and right now, it feels like it's closing in on me from all sides. Everything reminds me of Alex. It's like her presence is etched into every part of my life, and now she's just—gone. I still remember the way her laughter filled this room, the way we'd get lost in music, the way she always made everything seem brighter.

Now, every corner of my room is a haunting memory. The vinyl records we'd play on repeat, my sketchbook filled with her face, and those photos on my mirror of us being goofy. They're all pieces of a puzzle that feels forever incomplete without her.

I can't shake the feeling of helplessness. It's like a dark cloud hanging over me. I miss Alex so much it hurts. I want her back. I want our lives to go back to normal, but I know that's impossible. We've all changed. This experience has changed us.

Maybe it's for the better. Maybe we'll come out of this stronger. But right now, all I want is to find Alex and Will, to bring them back and have one more moment of peace.

I hope tomorrow is better. It has to be better. '

Lydia set the pen down, her hand trembling slightly. Writing it all out hadn't made her feel any better, but at least the thoughts weren't swirling in her head anymore. She closed the journal and placed it back in the drawer, then turned off the light, curling up under her blankets. The weight of exhaustion finally overtook her, and she drifted off into a restless sleep, hoping for a better day tomorrow.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・

word count : 4771

day published : ??/??/????

naomi speaks...

sigh

.・゜゜・・゜゜・