Page 20

Lilith was fucked.

The blonde girl truly felt like a ghost—more like a corpse.

Her eyelids cracked open around five in the morning to a kiss, somewhere below her collarbone, right on the swell of her breasts where her top had slipped down. Olivia still seemed to be having fun, still laughing, still glowing in the half-light of the apartment.

Lilith tried to move, but her limbs weren't limbs; they were filled with wet sand, heavy and slow, refusing her.

Somehow, Olivia's hands coaxed her upright, steadying her by the shoulders with a grin too wide for the moment.

A small pill was pressed into Lilith's palm, gentle fingers closing her hand around it.

"You'll feel better," Olivia whispered, voice the soft promise of someone too far gone to notice the difference between care and cruelty.

Lilith wished, with a sharp ache deep in her ribs, that it was just paracetamol.

It wasn't.

She always danced at the edge of too much, always toeing the line like it was a game. But this—this was a step past the edge. This was a tumble into a place she couldn't crawl out of.

The room pulsed around her, colors too bright, light too sharp, the air itself too loud. And somewhere inside that spinning world, she lost time.

It was Gabrielle's voice that tore through the haze hours later.

Lilith missed her—her Gabrielle.

Lilith's head lolled back, eyes fluttering, as Gabrielle's arms scooped her up, half-dragging, half-carrying her through the apartment. The hallway stretched like a tunnel. Her feet barely touched the ground.

Before Lilith could even make sense of it, she was back in her own bed. The smell of something familiar, something safe, brushing up against the rawness inside her.

Gabrielle tucked the blanket under her chin smoothing damp hair back from her face. Her mouth was pressed in a tight line, eyes wide, pupils blown with terror, jaw clenched like she was holding back a scream.

Lilith tried to speak.

Nothing.

Her throat was a raw tunnel, her mouth thick with the taste of regret and something bitter she couldn't name. She wanted to say I'm sorry. But all she could do was let her eyes flicker shut, the world narrowing to the weight of Gabrielle's hand against her forehead and the rustle of fabric.

Monday wasn't a perfect day to survive this.

But she had to.

The shower that morning was a cruel joke—cold tiles against overheated skin, water slipping down her spine in shivers. Halfway through, her forehead hit the cold wall of the shower stall, and she decided that was enough.

She had to show up to uni.

It was an important day—she couldn't miss it.

She made it to university. She did it in the thin, scraped-out way a body moves when it's running on memory instead of will.

The minutes bled into each other, one after another, until she was back in the apartment, the trip home stretched from thirty minutes to two hours, every step like dragging her bones through molasses.

Gabrielle was practically forcing water into her throat, her jaw set tight, eyes blazing with a fury that made the silence between them unbearable.

When Gabrielle finally got her into bed again, something inside Lilith cracked.

"Gabi..." she whispered, barely pushing the sound past her lips, eyes cloudy, unfocused, small.

"...I'm scared. I can't move."

Gabrielle had been clear—crystal clear, really.

Lilith had to sleep. Drink water. Take the painkillers. Eat something.

Simple instructions, spoken in a voice that trembled with worry and frustration, hands gesturing in sharp, precise movements as Gabrielle gathered up Lilith's things and muttered under her breath about "stupid choices" and "pushing limits."

And then Gabrielle was gone, the apartment door clicking shut, her hurried footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and the sharp imprint of her presence in the quiet room—off to retrieve Lilith's forgotten phone from Olivia and Daniel's apartment.

Lilith wished she could take the situation more seriously. She really did.

But as soon as the apartment settled into silence, as soon as she was alone, Lilith's body folded under the weight of exhaustion, and she drifted into sleep without touching the water glass, without taking the pills, without so much as pulling the blanket tighter around her shaking form.

When she woke up again, it was nearly dark—the pale blue dusk creeping through the window, softening the edges of the room into something both beautiful and unbearable.

Her whole body was trembling.

It was so cold.

Lilith had always run cold—cool fingers, cool toes, curling herself into oversized sweaters and thick socks, sipping hot tea until her lips tingled with warmth. But this time was different. This time she was freezing and sweating at once, her skin clammy, her breath shallow and tight in her chest.

She pushed herself out of bed, arms hugging her ribcage, knees buckling under the effort. Every muscle ached with the dull, vibrating pain of depletion, her head a cloud of static, her mouth dry as paper.

She was so fucking hungry.

The last meal she'd eaten was almost three days ago—the pasta Valentina's mother had made. Now the memory hit her with a sharp pang, not just the taste of it, but the warmth of that afternoon.

Lilith's stomach turned violently as she caught sight of the lone cookie on her kitchen counter, crumbled at the edges, half-forgotten in a paper bag. The thought of forcing it past her lips almost made her gag.

She knew she had to get herself together before Gabrielle returned with her phone.

She knew Gabrielle would be furious if she came back to find Lilith like this, sprawled and useless and sinking deeper into herself.

But no matter how hard she tried, her body refused.

The couch was the nearest thing, and Lilith collapsed onto it, half-crawling, half-dragging herself across the room, her breath rattling in the quiet. She curled up beneath the thin throw blanket, her skin prickling with cold, her pulse loud in her ears.

When Gabrielle finally returned, her cheeks flushed from the night air, hair wind-tossed, the blonde girl's phone gripped tightly in her hand, Lilith lied.

She told her she'd done everything—taken the pills, drunk the water, eaten, rested.

And God, she wished she hadn't.

Because Gabrielle would've helped her. She would've filled a glass with water, made her something easy to swallow, coaxed her into warmer clothes, run her fingers through Lilith's tangled hair and muttered soft, half-angry comforts.

Of course she would have.

But Lilith didn't want to make her angrier.

And maybe, just maybe, in this thin moment, she wished she didn't care so much about the sharp, aching fear of disappointing the people she loved.

The night managed to be even worse for Lilith.

Hours dragged like weighted chains across her body, every second stretching into something unbearable. She stirred weakly on the couch, the blanket tangled around her legs, damp from the cold sweat clinging to her skin.

With trembling fingers, she fumbled for her phone, its cold surface slipping against her palm. The screen flickered to life—one notification, one tiny lifeline cutting through the haze.

A message from Valentina.

Lilith's lips curved into the faintest, barely-there smile, the kind that flickered and trembled at the edges, so soft it could be mistaken for a grimace.

But before she could open it and answer, the screen dimmed.

And died.

The heavy silence that followed was almost crushing. Lilith let her arm drop limply to her side, fingers tightening instinctively around the dead phone. For a second—just a heartbeat of a second—she wanted to throw it against the wall, wanted to hear it shatter the way she'd wanted to last night.

But instead, she held on.

Because somehow, even in the freezing quiet of her apartment, with her body aching and hollow and fragile, the thought of Valentina wanting to talk to her sparked a fragile thread of warmth through her chest.

It was the strangest contrast—burning inside, frozen outside.

And still, somewhere beneath the shivering, beneath the dull ache in her bones, panic flickered to life.

She had to get up.

University was waiting. There were classes, lectures, deadlines she couldn't miss. She had never let herself sink this far, never reached this kind of edge before.

But the moment her feet touched the floor, the moment she pushed herself up with shaking arms—

Her vision blurred, the room tilted, and her whole body folded like paper.

She hit the floor without a sound.

And everything went black.

?

Lilith didn't remember the last time she was in a hospital.

Probably when she was a teenager—something silly, some accident or another, maybe exhaustion, fainting. It seemed familiar, that kind of explanation, and it felt all too real now as she blinked her eyes open, the sterile white ceiling above her.

Her gaze shifted, and the first thing she saw was Gabrielle.

"Lilith, I'm literally going to choke you."

Gabrielle's voice was sharp, but Lilith couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up in her chest. It was a quiet, tired thing, but it was there—one of those moments where she felt like herself again, even if just for a second.

"I'm sorry," Lilith murmured, tilting her head to one side, the motion still a little clumsy but strangely natural.

It was almost unbelievable how the blonde girl could be the most exhausted, worried, and overwhelmed person in the room, yet still offer a teasing smile or a soft tilt of her head, despite the world being heavy around her.

"What happened?" Lilith's voice was soft, like she wasn't quite sure what was real yet.

"You fainted." Gabrielle's answer was calm, too calm for the rush of panic that had clearly been there before.

But then Gabrielle raised her voice, just slightly, as if to remind her.

"Be glad you didn't hit your head too hard."

A sigh followed, and Gabrielle's features softened into something almost vulnerable.

"God, Lili. I was so worried."

Lilith's heart ached at the sincerity in Gabrielle's frown, the weight of the concern pressing down on her. She pouted, her stomach twisting with guilt. She hated making Gabrielle upset, probably more than anyone else.

Because Gabrielle was the most important person in her life.

And then Lilith's mind shifted, a quiet relief settling over her. She was glad they hadn't run drug tests.

But there was still the lingering sense of dread, the knowledge that Gabrielle had to leave her side for a moment, that the doctor needed to ask a few questions.

The doctor's voice was gentle as she recited the basics, asking if Lilith had any allergies, if there was any medical history that might be important—just the usual questions.

And then, just as the doctor was about to say something else, the door burst open.

Oscar.

Lilith immediately shot up her hands, a gesture of surrender, as if caught red-handed.

"I'm alive," she said, her voice weak but laced with a faint hint of humor.

Oscar sighed, his face a mix of exasperation and relief. Without missing a beat, he walked straight past her, heading towards the doctor to fire off a barrage of questions—he'd called himself off work the moment Gabrielle had phoned him.

The doctor went through the usual checks, confirming that it was just exhaustion and dehydration. Her blood test came back showing a few deficiencies but there was a minor head injury from her fall.

It didn't sound too serious—at least not to Lilith.

To be honest, she kind of wished she stayed unconscious. The tiredness in her bones was overwhelming, and she wasn't ready for the scolding that was sure to follow.

Oscar's voice started in the background, already raising in volume as he lectured her about pushing her limits too far, about not taking care of herself, about the things she shouldn't have done.

It felt like a lifetime of being scolded, and she barely had the energy to focus on his words.

It took so long that the doctor had to come back in, her tone gentle but firm, asking Oscar to let Lilith rest.

And that was when she finally allowed herself to sink back into the bed, her body too tired to do anything else.

It got pretty late before Gabrielle made her way out of the hospital, exhaustion weighing on her every step. The air outside felt colder than usual, and as she rounded the corner, she spotted a woman she certainly didn't expect to see here.

Valentina Salvatore.

She was standing by the entrance, the soft glow of the streetlights casting long shadows behind her. The moment their eyes met, Valentina's gaze sharpened, and she didn't waste a second before asking, "What happened?"

Her brows were furrowed, her voice clipped, as though she already knew this wasn't just a simple incident.

Gabrielle, still carrying the weight of the day and feeling a little lighter knowing Lilith was doing better, leaned against the nearby wall with a soft sigh. She answered lightly, almost jokingly, for the first time that day—her way of releasing the tension that had built up all afternoon.

"She underestimated her tolerance for some things."

The words were half a joke, but Valentina didn't seem to find it funny. The moment Gabrielle spoke, she felt a sudden coldness from the woman she hadn't seen in so long.

"Maybe you should be more responsible next time," Valentina said, her tone chilling.

Gabrielle's brows furrowed now, confusion mixing with irritation. "Excuse me?" she asked, the edge of disbelief in her voice.

Valentina didn't even spare her another glance, continuing further into the hospital, her words trailing behind her in the air.

"You're excused."

Gabrielle stood frozen for a moment, the harshness of Valentina's tone catching her off guard. There was a sense of finality in the air, as if Valentina had made her judgment and wasn't interested in any kind of argument.

Back in the hospital room, Lilith was drifting in and out of awareness. Her body felt heavy, her head still throbbing, but she was beginning to regain some clarity. She heard a soft knock on the door.

Her lips quirked into a tired smile, and she giggled softly to herself.

There was no one barging in anymore.

"Come in?" she whispered, the words more of a question than a request.

Lilith's eyes widened softly when Valentina stepped in, the door clicking shut behind her with a little too much force.

"Valentina?" Lilith murmured, her voice feather-light as she tried to push herself upright, only for Valentina to immediately say, "Lay down."

There was no edge to her voice this time, but the command was clear. Lilith obeyed without hesitation—God, the last thing she wanted was another person mad at her today. She eased herself back onto the pillows, watching as Valentina slowly settled into the chair beside her bed.

"How do you feel?" Valentina asked, her voice smoothing out now, though her brows were still faintly drawn together.

"Good, I think," Lilith answered awkwardly, her fingers tugging at the hem of the blanket draped over her legs.

God, why did the woman look like she was mad at her?

The silence between them thickened, and Lilith couldn't help but blurt out, "Are you... mad at me?"

She shifted onto her side, facing Valentina, eyes a little wide, a little pleading.

"Why would I be?" Valentina asked, brow arching elegantly.

Lilith pouted, eyes dipping down. "I think everyone is..." she mumbled.

Valentina didn't answer—not right away. Her thoughts flicked to Gabrielle, to the sharp exchange outside.

She had been concerned the moment Oscar told her Lilith was in the hospital.

Worry had already been gnawing at her when the girl didn't answer her texts, and part of her had even let herself hope—quietly, secretly—that Lilith might drop by her office.

But this? This was the last place she wanted to find her.

"What happened?" Valentina asked, her tone tightening just slightly.

"Tell me."

"Do you want me to be honest?" Lilith asked, half-smiling, half-nervous, fingers busy twisting at the blanket.

Valentina gave a slow nod.

Lilith drew in a breath. "I had a really bad, um... encounter on Sunday. And I was just upset."

Valentina's brow lifted slightly. "So?"

"So... I drank. And probably did a lot of things I shouldn't," Lilith confessed, voice small but tinged with dry humor.

The moment the words left her mouth, Lilith caught how much she sounded like a student giving an excuse to a too-serious professor. Her lips twitched, a quiet giggle slipping out before she gave up entirely, laughter spilling from her throat, soft and a little breathless.

"Sorry," she whined between laughs, covering her face for a second as her shoulders trembled. She was sure Valentina would frown, or scold her, or pull back into that chilly shell—

But when she peeked out, Valentina was smiling softly. Just the faintest curve of her mouth, subtle but unmistakable.

And somehow, in that moment, it was enough to make Lilith's heart feel just a little lighter.

Even though the lighter air lingered in the hospital room, Valentina didn't let the thread of questioning slip from her grasp.

"Was Gabrielle with you?" she asked, her voice cool but edged with something sharper—something unsettled.

Lilith tilted her head slightly, her cheek brushing against the pillow, she gazed up at Valentina. "God, no—she would kill me," Lilith murmured, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

Valentina's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, a flicker of awareness crossing her features. She realized then that perhaps her earlier reaction to Gabrielle hadn't been entirely fair.

"Do you do that often?" Valentina asked after a brief pause, crossing one leg elegantly over the other and folding her arms, her posture drawing in, closed but attentive.

Lilith blinked, lifting her gaze towards her as if trying to figure out where the question was even coming from. "What?"

"End up in the hospital because you were 'upset,'" Valentina clarified smoothly, though there was a faint quirk at the edge of her mouth, as if she herself was weighing the sharpness of her words.

Lilith flushed faintly, looking down at her blanket and fidgeting with the edge once again. "No... I don't," she said softly. She wasn't sure why, but a warm embarrassment bloomed in her chest. This wasn't how she wanted Valentina to see her.

Valentina tilted her head slightly, studying her.

"Encounter with who, Lilith?" she asked, voice smooth but edged with curiosity.

Lilith blinked up at her, surprised by the follow-up—and truthfully, she didn't understand why Valentina cared so much.

But she didn't mind. If Valentina Salvatore wanted to know every detail of her day, she would tell her without a second thought.

Still... this one felt so small, so pathetic to admit.

"...My mother."

Valentina only nodded—just nodded, her face unreadable.

A quiet hush settled between them.

Valentina's gaze softened slightly, but her brows remained faintly drawn as if she were caught deep in thought, her mind working over something unspoken. The weight of her silence wrapped around the room, and Lilith could feel it—could almost taste the tension of words unsaid.

And because Lilith couldn't bear it—because she always filled the spaces people left behind—she curled up slightly on the bed, her voice hesitant but bright as she said softly—

"I'm okay, you know. You don't need to worry."

Valentina's lips curved into a faint smile. "Did I say that I'm worried?"

Lilith squinted at her, a small pout forming. "You're not? That's so mean, Miss Salvatore."

For the first time that night, Valentina let out a quiet laugh, the sound low and warm. "I am worried, Lilith."

And maybe—just maybe—that shouldn't have made Lilith's chest tighten with a flicker of happiness. But the thought that someone like Valentina cared enough to worry, to show up here of all places, was a softness Lilith hadn't known she craved.

"You should sleep, darling," Valentina murmured, unfolding her legs and leaning in.

With surprising precision, she pulled the covers up higher over Lilith, her fingers brushing over the blanket like she was tucking in something precious, something breakable.

"I don't think I'll be able to, though," Lilith admitted, her voice small in the quiet of the room.

Valentina tilted her head, eyes gentle. "Is there anything that helps you fall asleep?"

Lilith's cheeks warmed, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. Could she even ask for something like that? But then Valentina leaned in, her perfume—strong, comforting, faintly sweet—wrapping around Lilith like a second blanket.

"Tell me, sweetheart."

Lilith hesitated, then, barely above a whisper she asked, "You could...scratch my arm?"

For a heartbeat, she thought she might die of embarrassment. But Valentina only lifted her hand in a graceful gesture, fingers motioning. "Come on—give me your arm."

Lilith slowly pulled one arm out from under the covers, and Valentina gently rolled up the sleeve of her sweater. Her touch was light, careful. She began scratching her arm softly, her nails short but just the right length, moving with a quiet, rhythmic patience.

"Is this what you like?" Valentina asked, her voice lower now, as if she was afraid of disturbing the peace.

Lilith's eyes fluttered, a small, sleepy smile pulling at her lips. "If I were rich, I'd hire someone just to scratch me to sleep," she giggled.

Valentina gave a soft hum, her fingers never stopping.

"Close your eyes, come on," she murmured, and with her free hand, she brushed back the pale strands of hair that had fallen over Lilith's face—shorter pieces, like outgrown curtain bangs—tucking them behind her ear with a kind of quiet intimacy.

Maybe, Lilith thought as her eyelids grew heavier, that's all she needed tonight.

To fall asleep peacefully—with a smile ghosting across her lips, a comforting scent in the air, and the quiet presence of someone who stayed.

And Valentina's hand kept moving, slow and steady, even long after Lilith had drifted off.