Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
The theater had been abandoned for months, left to rot just like they had left her. Just like I had left her.
I ran my fingers over the cracked wooden floors, trailing through the grime and filth that had settled over time. It was wrong. She deserved better.
A bucket of soapy water sat next to me, already murky from the filth I had scrubbed away. The sponge in my hand was ruined, torn and darkened by the grime, but I kept working, pressing down, pushing against the floorboards like if I scrubbed hard enough, I could erase the past.
But there was one thing I couldn’t erase.
The stain. Her stain.
I had tried everything. Bleach, industrial cleaner, even my own nails, scraping against the wood until my fingertips ached. But it wouldn’t leave. Her blood had seeped too deep into the stage.
A sharp exhale left my lungs as I sat back on my heels, staring at the dark mark. It had faded some, but it was still there, embedded into the wood like a scar that refused to heal.
A scar. A reminder. A gift.
My fingers trembled as I reached out, pressing my palm against the stain. The wood was colder there, as if it still held the memory of her last breath. She was still here.
I swallowed hard, curling forward, letting my weight settle over the spot. The dampness seeped into my shirt, the outline of her death soaking into my skin. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel her beneath me.
“I tried, Lilith,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against the floor. “I tried to clean it, but you won’t let me, will you?”
Silence.
A stillness in the air that hadn’t been there before.
A breath left my lips, shaky and uneven, but my chest swelled with something deep and warm. She wanted me to see it. To feel it.
My body relaxed against the floor as I let the truth settle into my bones. This was where she had fallen. This was where she had left us. This was where she had stayed.
A laugh bubbled up in my throat—soft, breathless. I should have known she would never leave me.
“You belonged with us,” I murmured, my fingers tracing lazy patterns over the bloodstain. “I just didn’t see it soon enough.”
Another silence. Another breath of cold air against my skin.
She was listening.
I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling where the broken stage lights hung in rusted fixtures. My arms stretched out over the floor, as if I could hold the stain, hold her. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, she would finally reach back.
The old chandelier swayed slightly, though there was no breeze, no open doors or windows. Just the theater and the darkness and the stain that refused to fade.
My pulse thrummed beneath my skin. She was waiting for me.
The thought sent warmth through my veins, something like relief, something like love.
Reaching into my pocket, my fingers curled around a small, familiar weight. My coin. The one I had flipped absentmindedly through every decision, every doubt. I pulled it out, running my thumb over the worn edges before placing it down on the stain beside me. A final gamble.
“I don’t need it anymore,” I whispered, watching as the dim light caught the ridges of its surface. “You decide now.”
A whisper of movement—so slight, so imperceptible I could’ve imagined it. The coin shifted, rolling just a fraction before settling again. My breath caught, my pulse a slow, heavy thrum in my ears.
A sign. She had taken it.
I closed my eyes, exhaling a long, slow breath. My fingers traced over the edges of the stain, feeling the dips and grooves of the aged wood. It was smooth in some places, rough in others, but it all belonged to her now. Everything here did. Even me.
The thought made my stomach clench, but not with fear. With purpose. With devotion.
I shifted onto my side, curling into the stain as though I could tuck myself into the memory of her. My cheek pressed against the floor, my heartbeat steadying to a slow, deliberate rhythm. My hands curled inward, cradling the place where she had died, like holding onto her essence would bring me closer. Would bring me home.
The air was so still it felt like the whole world had gone quiet. The only sound was my own breathing, my own pulse echoing in my ears. Then?—
A whisper. Faint. Distant. Or maybe not distant at all.
A shiver crawled up my spine as I opened my eyes, my gaze drifting to the coin I had left as an offering. It had moved again, just barely, shifting almost imperceptibly toward me.
A warmth bloomed in my chest, an aching, consuming certainty. She had accepted my gift.
My lips parted, my breath coming out in a slow exhale. This was real. She was real.
I reached for the coin, but my fingers only brushed against it before I hesitated. No—I wouldn’t take it back. It belonged to her now.
A small, broken laugh escaped me, barely more than a breath. “I knew you’d wait for me.”
The chandelier swayed again, a slow, deliberate movement. A response.
I shut my eyes, smiling against the bloodstain, inhaling deep. The scent of dust, decay, and something else—something sweet, something familiar.
Lilith.
She was waiting.
And soon, I would be with her.