like clockwork ▸ allydia

12pm

LYDIA MARTIN → ALLISON ARGENT
march eighteenth

⠀

i ate.

well, no.

let me rephrase that.

i TRIED to eat.

but i was only able to get a little (a few grapes and some water) down my throat before my stomach made a frowny face. :-(

i feel so sick. so nauseous.

and not because of the fall i had.

sure, my head may be a little foggy. kind of like the sky when we drive the morning after a rainstorm. or kind of like i'm sitting at the bottom of the ocean. but it's not from that.

i just feel like there's this hole in me. one that i can't (and shouldn't) fill. it all feels so unreal.

scott is holding out a spoon to me. he said he wants me to eat my tomato soup at least.

i can't, no, i physically can't.

everything hurts, yet it's numb at the same time.

stiles must've noticed the way i looked up at scott (extra pale, trembling, faint) because he just took my tray and tossed it in a nearby trash can.

it's almost as if he knows. as if he knows what i'm feeling, and thinking. like he sees into my head.

stiles, if you see this or hear this or whatever psychic shit you do to understand me, i don't blame you. it's not your fault.