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Kyrin pushes off the wall and backs me up against the kitchen counter, tumbling one of the barstools over in his journey. Placing his glass beside me, his hand comes to my chin, squeezing tight enough to be a warning. “Why are you here, Lilith? What do you want with Kiznitch?”
I tilt my head to look up at him since he’s so tall. With a jawline that could have only been carved by witchcraft and cheekbones kissed by the devil, he has to be an alchemy of destruction to use as a weapon against us mere mortals.
I press against the counter and jump up to sit on it while sliding my legs around his waist. He doesn’t remove them, and I couldn’t care less if he did. “Why do I get the feeling that if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me?”
His opaque eyes narrow, heavy lashes fanning over his skin. He edges closer until his nose tip touches mine. “I don’t like you much.”
“I’m not offended. I heard you don’t like anyone.”
“Hmm,” he growls softly, as if deep in thought. His attention continues to shuffle between my mouth and my eyes, and then to the edges of my face. “You’re fading…”
“What?” I ask, though it leaves my mouth a whisper. I can’t tell if my mouth is open or closed. I go to say something else when my heavy lids close and everything turns black.
It was like a first draft of every poem I ever read as a child, only this room wasn’t comforting in the same way Charlotte Smith was with her circa 1800 art.
“Lilith, play nice. Lilith, talk to me. Lilith, you know that what your father is doing is for your own good.”
I didn’t understand why she had to call me into her office to say this. As if she cared. All of the conversations I had with her could have easily been said from my bedroom. She had become increasingly aggressive with her presence lately.
She reached over my shoulder to a bookshelf. The same one as always. She pushed the button and began her session.
“How was your day today, Lilith? Did anything happen today?” She crossed her leg on top of her knee, a pen dangling between her two fingers. She was beautiful. Everyone knew that. But yet… she never left this office.
“Can I ask a question for once, since you always do?”
That seemed to startle her, but she placed her pen down on her notepad and nodded. “Okay, Lilith. Sure. What would you like to ask me?”
I was used to the way she slowed down sentences around me, as if I didn’t understand. I did. I understood a lot. The only reason I never corrected anyone was because it amused me to see how they thought they’re interpreting me.
“Why do you never leave your office? People bring you food. You sleep right in there.” I pointed to the small room adjacent to the office. “You have a bathroom and a kitchenette. Why?”
I watched as she played with her long brunette hair. Her skin was smooth, flawless, and without giving a single clue as to her age. “Because I like it here.” Her smile was tense but brief. “Moving along—” Her eyes came to mine.
“Where are you from?” I asked another question. “Because you don’t look like Patience.”
She sighed, uncrossing her legs and planting them both onto the ground. “Lilith, I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about you. Are you ready now?”
I nodded. I had been seeing her since I was old enough to remember, but yet…
I was the only one who saw her.
I wake up in a flurry. My LED alarm clock, which sits on my bedside table, flashes the time. The lights around the bus are definitely something I need to work better at getting used to. I’d much rather sleep in darkness. It’s where my thoughts reside.
It’s three a.m. Witching hour. At least I didn’t wake up the house this time by screaming my lungs out. I lean over my bed and reach for my phone, seeing one new message. No one knows my number, I don’t think.
Unknown: It’s me.
I pause over the words, my mouth turning dry. My fingers fly over the keyboard. Me: That could be anyone…
Unknown: You know it’s not.
I squeeze my phone in my hand and swing my legs over the bed. I know who this is, but I didn’t expect to hear from them so soon. Making my way to the small window, I move the curtain out of the way to see out onto the road. Trees whip past. We are still driving, which means we haven’t hit our first stop yet.
Another text comes through.
Unknown: Don’t forget…
I hold my breath before hitting send. Me: Never.
I delete the text thread and save the number under something I know people won’t suspect if anyone picks up my phone. I move through my morning motions of brushing my teeth and scrubbing my face before tiptoeing to the door and slowly pulling it open. My throat swells when I find myself looking between Kyrin’s and Eli’s doors. I can’t believe I fainted. How many times have I done drugs and I faint? I need to ask Keaton what his shit was laced with.
