32. Lilith
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
I needed painkillers. Immediately.
I moved to sit up, but the second I lifted my head, the room spun violently. A wave of nausea crashed over me so hard my stomach clenched, a full-body rejection of whatever the hell was writhing through my body.
Oh, God . I was going to puke.
I swallowed, blinking rapidly, trying to focus, to get a grip. My eyes darted across the room, searching—where the fuck was my door?
I spotted one across the room and bolted, pain ricocheting through my body with every step. My limbs screamed, every muscle seizing, but I couldn’t stop.
I made it two feet before something yanked hard at the crease of my elbow.
A sharp sting.
A crash behind me.
The sudden pull sent me reeling, dizziness slamming into me all at once. What was that?
Shit.
No. No, no, no.
I needed— bathroom.
I barely made it to the toilet before I dropped to my knees and vomited, hard, heaving everything up in violent waves, fingers gripping porcelain as I gasped for air between each retch.
Had I been drinking?
I squeezed my eyes shut, forehead pressed to the rim, sweat prickling at my spine. My stomach clenched again, emptying itself, my body purging something I didn’t even remember taking in.
Everything hurt. My limbs, my ribs, the deep ache in my skull pulsing with every ragged breath .
Right. Painkillers.
I pushed back onto shaky legs, bare feet sinking into soft carpet as I entered my bedroom— weird .
I stepped out of my room, rubbing at the bridge of my nose as I blinked against the blinding light.
My house felt… off.
Had I rearranged something? Moved furniture around in some kind of drunk, delirious state? I must have gotten hammered.
That would explain the skull-crushing headache, the dryness coating my mouth like sandpaper.
I stretched my arms above my head, grimacing as sharp, hot pain rippled through my muscles.
Jesus. What did I do last night?
Each step sent another pulse of soreness through my body, the stiffness in my limbs making me feel like I’d run a marathon in my sleep. Did I fall down?
I kept walking, feet padding softly against the smooth flooring.
Huh, when did I float downstairs?
Weird. Whatever.
I found the kitchen and reached for the nearest cupboard.
Empty.
I tried another. Plates.
Another. Mugs.
Come on, where are my painkillers?
I knew I had some. I’d bought them a few days ago. I always kept them in the top drawer, right next to the cutlery, because that made the most sense.
“Lilith? You’re awake?”
“Yeah?” I mumbled, not looking up, still rifling through drawer after drawer.
“Lilith,” the voice came again, a little closer this time. “What are you doing?”
“I need painkillers,” I muttered, frustration creeping in as my fingers closed around nothing but empty space and unfamiliar objects. “I know I bought some. Where the fuck are my drawers?”
A hand brushed my arm, and I jerked back, fast and hard, straight into the edge of a counter.
Blinding pain exploded up my side.
“Don’t,” my voice cracked. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
My breath came hard, too loud in my ears, pulse slamming against my ribs as I clutched my hip. The pain was intense, zapping my nerves like something had splintered apart inside me.
“Okay, okay—I’m sorry,” the voice rushed out. “Just—just slow down for a sec.”
I gritted my teeth as I struggled to breathe through the sharp, burning pain.
Christ. Did I get run over?
“I’m getting painkillers.”
“I know,” they said. “I’ll get them for you, okay? And some water. Just—sit down.”
Sit down.
Yeah. I could do that.
I swallowed and stiffly moved toward the nearest chair.
The water and painkillers appeared immediately, and I wasted no time, tossing the pills into my mouth and chasing them with the entirety of the water.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“How are you feeling?”
I let out a dry laugh, shifting in the chair, wincing as a fresh wave of pain rippled through me. “Like I’ve been beaten up.”
Silence.
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. “Right… what time is it?”
“It’s one twenty-three p.m.”
My stomach dropped. “Oh, shit. I’m late for work.”
“It’s your day off.”
Relief washed over me like a wave. “Oh, thank God for that. That would’ve been embarrassing.”
More silence.
“Okay, I’m going back to bed. Thanks for the drugs and stuff,” I muttered, rising from the seat and turning away. My limbs felt like dead weight, my head still pounded, but at least the painkillers would take the edge away soon. I just needed sleep.
I took a step, then another—then stopped.
My brow furrowed. I turned my head left, then right.
“Where’s my room gone?”
A beat passed, then, softly, the voice said, “I’ll take you.” Another pause. “Can I touch your arm?”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
A hand brushed my arm, making me flinch again but I let them lead me, my feet dragging slightly against the floor, the world tilting, stretching too big around me.
I was guided toward my bed, but before I could sink into it, the voice beside me tensed. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even notice. Did you rip it out?”
“What?”
“Your IV.”
I frowned. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”
I looked down to the crook of my arm, where a thin tube dangled, a small patch of red blooming from it.
Huh .
“That probably shouldn’t have happened,” I mumbled.
“No, it shouldn’t,” the voice sighed. “Does it hurt?”
I blinked at my arm, at the faint smear of blood, at the black and purple skin blooming around it, then I scoffed. “Everything hurts.”
Silence.
“Can I go to sleep now?”
“Of course you can.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, already sinking down, curling into the warmth of my blankets. “Goodnight.”