Lost Cause » Void Stiles

15; voices

Oak Creek hadn't changed in 70 years.

The tunnels were identical to the ones Lita had seen in her mind, albeit with a few more cracks & cobwebs. They were narrow, the stone grey walls close enough to make anyone even mildly claustrophobic bolt for the nearest exit, providing they could find it. The tunnels were like a maze, each stretch appearing miles long & lined with identical copper piping— even if you had a flawless memory, once you made a wrong turn, getting back on track would be next to impossible.

Lita liked it.

The maze was unknown to her, but she didn't fear the unknown— she lived for it. The idea of getting lost in the tunnels wasn't a nightmare to her, it was a dream, an adventure. Who knew what type of horrifying, murderous supernatural creature she'd encounter? Maybe an ancient Japanese warrior demon. Maybe a bloodthirsty werewolf. The thrill of not knowing what would come next was everything she could have ever wished for.

When can we kill someone again?

I miss being covered in blood.

"Shut up." Lita muttered to the voices in her head, rolling her eyes at them. They were more eager than her to kill again; they loved the way her psychosis worsened when she was in a murderous rage. The last shred of humanity within her disappeared entirely during that time, and they thrived. "Soon."

Up until now, the voices had been incoherent mumbles, but now they were making sense. The strong medications she'd been on were now finally almost out of her system, allowing the demons in her head to speak freely without their usual muzzles. Lita didn't mind; she kind of missed them, after all this time. She hadn't heard their voices clearly in over two years. It was like being reunited with old friends.

Kill.

"Fuck off, I will later." Old demanding friends, who were extremely annoying & persistent if she didn't give them what they wanted. They were always so needy— gut your brother's dog, stab your brother twenty-seven times, claw that orderly's eyes out— they were insatiable. Their desire for blood to be spilled couldn't be satisfied, no matter how frequently she drenched herself in red.

Kill.

"I said I will!" Lita yelled, her voice echoing throughout the tunnels. Her inner demon's voice was a deeper, rough version of her own; a dilapidated human condemned to the dark shadows of her mind, tortured to insanity by the girl's psychotic imagination. "As soon as Stiles gets here with that redhead bitch, I'll slit her throat just to shut you up."

Good.

"Change of plans, pretty little freak show." Stiles' voice echoing down the tunnel caught her attention. Lita turned to see him, dragging none other than Lydia Martin along with him. He threw the strawberry blonde to the ground as soon as he was within a ten foot radius of Lita, careless of whether or not she was harmed.

"Have you decayed more since I last saw you?" Lita raised a brow, taking a step closer as she looked closely at his face. The darkness beneath his eyes had become far more noticeable, and he was at least two shades paler; he was still hot though. Possibly hotter, Lita was really starting to like the undead look.

Her gaze directed from Stiles down to Lydia on the ground. The girl was looking up at her as if she were the worst person in the world, a villain worse than any other ever to have existed. Lita knelt down in front of her, getting a good look at how Lydia had changed since she'd last seen her. She was relatively the same; still wore too much makeup (although now her mascara was running down her cheeks from crying) & still looked like Jackson Whittemore's girlfriend. A rich, spoiled brat.