The Rise of Lydia Rowe ↠ Jasper Hale (ON HOLD)

[2.09] the rise of lydia rowe

GWEN HOLLOWAY'S EYELIDS DROOPED as she struggled to stay awake, trying to focus on the movie playing on Lydia's TV. It was dark out, the window open so that the cold winter air could hopefully cool Lydia off. Gwen laid next to her best friend, wrapped in Lydia's comforter with her head against Lydia's chest as the sick girl slept. 

It took her a moment to register the abrupt silence in her left ear. 

She sat up, frowning as she looked at Lydia. "Lydia?" she asked softly. 

When she didn't get so much as a twitch in response, Gwen pressed two fingers to Lydia's neck, horrified when she felt nothing. She screamed in horror, unable to feel any breathe coming out of Lydia's mouth. 

No heartbeat. No breath. 

No. 

"Johanna! Tracy!" she cried, gripping Lydia's arms. She was still burning up, her skin still slick with sweat. 

But she wasn't moving. 

She heard someone running up the stairs and into Lydia's room. Gwen's entire body trembled as Tracy hurried into the room. Tracy gasped, calling out, "Johanna! It's Lydia! Call 911!" 

Gwen felt tears pour down her cheeks as her world fell down around her. She held Lydia's face between her hands. "Lydia, wake up!" she whimpered. "Come on, wake up, please." 

Tracy collapsed onto the bed on Lydia's other side, feeling for a pulse. Her eyes were glassy as she tried to shake her daughter awake. "Lydia! Lydia, honey, you have to wake up," she begged. "Johanna!" 

Johanna ran into the room, stopping short the second she saw Lydia's stiff body. "It's not supposed to happen this fast," she muttered to herself, Gwen and Tracy too shaken to even register her voice. Johanna's hand shook as she pulled her cell phone out, hurriedly dialing a number and pressing it to her ear. After a few seconds, she said quickly, "It's happening now. Where are you?" 

"She's not breathing!" Tracy shouted to her wife. "Call 911!" 

"Don't." The voice on the other end of Johanna's call was sharp, just loud enough for Johanna to hear. "I'm almost there, just wait." 

Johanna hung up the phone, dropping it onto the bed as she went to her wife at her daughter's side. "She's okay," she said, though she only half-believed it herself. The sight of her daughter's deathly-still body was the stuff of nightmares, but she tried to convince herself that it was okay—that Lydia would be okay. 

She has to be.

"She's dead!" Gwen cried, wondering if Johanna didn't understand, or if she'd gone into a state of shock. "Her heart stopped beating, she's not—she's not breathing!" 

"I know," Johanna said shakily. She knelt at Lydia's side, pressing her palm to her daughter's cheek. She winced at the still-present heat of her skin, though she knew it was a good sign. "It's going to be okay." 

"No, it's not!" Tracy yelled. "She needs an ambulance, Johanna! She's not breathing." 

Johanna heard the unlocked front door slam open, followed by hurried footsteps coming up the stairs. Before Tracy or Gwen could question who it was, a teenage boy burst into the room. "We have to get her outside," he said, skipping any and all niceties. "Let me get her." 

"Who the hell are you?" Tracy asked, hovering protectively over her daughter. 

"It's okay, Tracy," Johanna assured her. "He's here to help." 

"I've seen your face," Gwen breathed, staring at the boy in front of her. "But that's—that's impossible." 

The boy glanced briefly at Johanna before gently pushing Gwen out of the way to get to Lydia's side. "I'll explain everything later, I promise, but right now we're on a clock—unless you want to have to buy a new bed."