34. Lilith #2
Groaning, I pushed myself off the couch, doing my best to ignore the biting pain flaring through my ribs. “Coming!”
I shuffled toward the sound, feet moving on autopilot. What did she want now?
Something small glided across the floor in front of me. I nearly tripped.
Weird cat.
No, wait. Not a cat.
A Roomba.
When did I get one of those?
“Where are you going?” The man’s voice followed me. “What’s going on?”
“The fuck if I know,” I scoffed.
I startled as I crossed the threshold into my bedroom. She was just standing there. Silent. My gaze trailed over her. The gash on her temple was still swollen, still stitched, the skin around it a deep, ugly purple. Black eyes, bruised and still not healing.
“Not healing so quickly this time, huh?”
She didn’t answer.
“Have you taken your pills today?”
No response. Why was I even trying?
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, wincing. “Do you want help cleaning up?”
She didn’t answer.
“Fine. Don’t talk. Whatever. I’ll grab a washcloth. One sec, wait there.”
I headed to the bathroom and turned the faucet on, letting the water run over a washcloth I grabbed from beside the sink, watching as the fabric darkened, heavy and dripping.
Wayne must have really done a number on her this time. She didn’t talk to me much anyway, but this—this was odd.
She was too quiet.
Even at her worst, she always had something to say, always had some bitter remark to toss over her shoulder. But now—nothing.
Water seeped through my fingers as I squeezed the cloth.
She wasn’t dressed right, either. No obnoxiously bright colours, no ridiculous patterns that made my eyes hurt. No gaudy neon nails, chipped and clawing at cigarette filters.
I swallowed, shaking it off. It wasn’t my problem. What she did wasn’t my business.
I turned and made my way back to her, washcloth in hand.
She made her way towards me, meeting me, face-to-face, eyes levelled.
Huh. Her hair was braided. Tight woven strands, neat and unfamiliar, so unlike her.
“You should braid your hair more often. They look pretty on you.” I gave her a small smile.
She smiled back. I didn’t even know she was capable of that anymore.
For half a second, she looked just like she used to.
Before the bruises, before the sharp words and the cigarette smoke and the constant tension that filled every room she walked into.
For a moment, I could almost pretend. Almost .
“I’m just going to give you a wipe down, okay?”
She didn’t answer.
I reached forward, damp washcloth in hand, ready to press it against her forehead, but the second I met her skin, something stopped me. Something cool. Hard.
I flinched back.
What the fuck?
My pulse stuttered. I hesitated, then reached forward again, slower this time, my fingers brushing against—
Smooth. Too cold. Too perfect.
It was slick, untouched, like my skin wasn’t actually meeting skin at all but something else entirely. It was solid, with the slightest hint of a chill beneath my fingertips.
Rage bubbled up underneath my skin, sharp and immediate. A fire that had no warning—just heat and anger searing through my veins, curling around my ribs, tightening like a fist around my throat.
I ripped my hand back, the washcloth slipping from my fingers, hitting the carpet with a wet smack.
“Did you let him drug me again?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
The rage turned violent, nails digging crescents into my palms. Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and stinging, but I wouldn’t cry. I refused. I let the fury hold me up instead, filling the space where something heavier threatened to settle.
“Fucking speak!”
My hand snapped up without thought, aiming to strike—to make her move, to make her react, to make her do something .
But—resistance.
Not like skin. Not like bone. Not like anything real.
It stopped me cold, my palm colliding with something unseen. Like hitting a wall. Like hitting glass.
“You’re a sick, twisted bitch!” The words tore from my throat.
Hands gripped my arms. Pulling me away into a body behind mine.
“Lilith, stop.”
Arms circ led around me, holding me firm, locking me into place.
I tensed at first, my body rigid, breath coming too fast—but the scent hit me before the fear could.
It was familiar and warm. Something that shouldn’t have felt safe, but did.
I didn’t know why.
Didn’t know who.
Didn’t know where.
My forehead pressed against a chest, fingers curling into the fabric of a shirt, my body sinking without understanding.
“What’s happening to me?”
“Lilith, can you hear me?”
Soft cushions. Big plush couch. When did I sit down?
“Huh. Yeah.”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
I frowned slightly. My brain was lagging big time. “Uh… no. Sorry.”
The woman across from me didn’t seem bothered.
“That’s okay,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.
“I’m Dr. Hayes. I want to make sure I understand how best to support you.
To do that, I’d like to go over your medical records.
That way, I can see what’s worked for you before and make sure I don’t suggest anything that might not be right for you.
But I need your consent to access them.”
I nodded, barely thinking. “Yeah, sure.”
“Thank you.” She turned toward her laptop, typing something in, the sound of keys clicking filling the quiet.
I stared at the coffee table in front of me, the whole world was underwater today—like there was a thin layer of glass between me and everything close by.
“Lilith,” Dr. Hayes said again, drawing my attention back to her. “Do you give permission for Mr. Graves to be here while we discuss this?”
My brain stuttered over the name. Mr. Graves. Who? I should’ve asked. Should’ve thought about it. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“Alright,” she smiled and went back to her laptop.
I went back to staring at nothing.
“Lilith, it says here that you’ve been prescribed antipsychotics.”
Huh. I bl inked, the words rolling through my head like an echo of something I already knew. My pill bottle. White plastic, a blue cap, the sound of tablets rattling inside. “Right.”
She lifted her eyes from the screen. “Do you remember the last time you took them?”
I tried to think back, tried to pull something forward, but it was like reaching into a dark room, grasping at nothing. No memory. No routine.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded. “That’s okay. If you’ve been feeling more disconnected than usual, it’s possible your medication routine was disrupted, and that can lead to dissociation.”
“I didn’t even think about that,” I murmured.
“That’s understandable,” she said gently. “When you feel this way, it can be hard to notice what’s happening to you.”
“So this is just my brain doing the thing again?”
“It looks that way,” she said. “This is something you’ve experienced before, but after something traumatic, it can become stronger.”
My stomach curled in on itself. “What’s been so traumatic?”
She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the other side of the couch. “We don’t have to discuss that right now. Your mind is protecting you in the only way it knows how by blocking things out, and we just need to focus on getting you feeling better, okay?
“Yeah,” I nodded.
Dissociation…I knew that. I knew my brain did it. I knew I’d lost time before, that my mind blocked out big chunks of space before I could catch a glimpse at them. But this felt different. Bigger.
Fuck, I was so confused.
“Medication can help with the chemical part of your brain,” she said. “But there are also things we can do to help you feel more anchored in the present.”
“Like what?”
“Grounding techniques. Small, simple things that help bring you back when you feel like you’re slipping away. Have you ever used them before?”
Maybe… my hand moved of its own volition, fingers sliding up to my locket.
The cool metal pressed into my palm, familiar, real.
In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.
“Yes. Yes, I have. My locket.” My fingers curled around it tighter. “Box breathing too.”
“That’s really good, Lilith.” Dr. Hayes smiled, small and encouraging. “You remember those, which means you still know how to come back. That’s important.”
I just stared at her. I didn’t know what to say. Was that comforting or not?
She glanc ed at her screen, then back at me. “You’re going to be very sleepy for a few days while the medication kicks back in,” she said. “But you’ll be feeling much more like yourself again soon, okay?”