Lost Cause » Void Stiles

08; state of psychosis

The rest of the car ride had been relatively quiet.

The demon boy driving had made no attempt at conversation, staying focused strictly on the road, though Lita could tell he was aware of how she'd watched him the entire time. Lita had spoke a few times, mostly questioning if they were nearing their destination, and if he could leave her near the address of her old home; to which he responded that they were ditching the car just outside of Beacon Hills. It wasn't an awkward silence, but in Lita's perspective it was certainly one filled with tension (she had yet to decide if it was sexual or not). Nonetheless, it had ended very abruptly. The car had been ditched (quite literally) & the duo parted ways; Stiles heading off to the school, whilst Lita made her way to a familiar building she'd spent the vast majority of her younger years inhabiting.

Standing alongside the familiar building should've brought back a whirlwind of emotions for Lita, but as her eyes burned from excessive staring, all she felt was rage. All she ever felt, for the majority of her life, was rage- but this, this was different. The never ending surge of nearly uncontrollable, insatiable rage was far from the kind Lita enjoyed within the walls of Eichen House; it was the kind of anger that almost seemed to possess her to make her way around to the back of the house & into the tool shed, to retrieve her father's axe.

It was still there, just as she'd been counting on. A part of her had momentarily considered the possibility that her parents moved after the incident, leaving Beacon Hills, but in her barely beating, stone cold heart, Lita knew they'd never be able to leave after what she did. First & foremost, no one would buy the house where a brutal murder took place- it was basic textbook knowledge for anyone who'd seen a horror movie in their lifespan. Secondly, (and more importantly) Lita knew her parents wouldn't be able to leave that home- it held all the memories they had of their son.

Hell, Lita was willing to bet the kitchen floor was still stained with his blood.

The brunette's grip on the axe tightened as she stopped along the side of her old home, opening up the grey power box. Her eyes scanned over the array of switches, before locking on a particular one she knew controlled the electricity. In one swift flick, she shut it off, closing the little door to the box before picking up her pace as she made her way to the back of the house, where the patio door was. A sliding door; one she knew her parents never kept locked when they were home (and judging by the two cars in the front driveway, they were certainly home).

As she stepped in view of the door, Lita held the axe behind her back, her expression of rage shifting to a sickly sweet, psychotic smile. Using the hand not holding the axe, she slid the door open slowly (it had a nasty habit of squeaking; and knowing her father, he never oiled it) & stepped inside, taking in the familiar scenery. Not much had changed aside from the wall colour- all the same furniture, flooring & whatnot; but what Lita did notice as she walked further into the house, that the place she'd mercilessly stabbed her brother to death was now covered by a rug.

A rug with a cross on it.

Almost like a tombstone, marking the place in which he'd died. Upon staring for a second more, it hit Lita that it was, in fact, serving as a marker- because the name Wes was scrawled in cursive beneath the cross. The rug was in the centre of the kitchen, between the island & the counter; but even after two years, it looked brand new; of course her parents wouldn't dare step on it. The things people did to honour the deceased- it disgusted Lita. Wes was dead, he was gone & she'd done a great job of forgetting him whilst in Eichen.

Clearly, their parents had not. As per the norm, psycho little Lita was shipped away to the madhouse to endure countless volts of electricity surging through her body on a daily basis, while Wes was sent to a field full of flowers & crosses, as depicted in the rug. It was almost sad, really- the way they gave the dead child more love than the living one. She'd never so much as received a freaking phone call asking her if she was okay; for all she knew, her parents could think she too is dead. Though, Lita wouldn't have been to upset about that; it'd make her return all the more dramatic.