Page 7

Lilith stirred awake in the warmth of her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, the morning light slipping through her curtains.

It was a free day. For once, she had nowhere to be, nothing pressing waiting for her.

She stretched, her body still heavy with sleep, the oversized shirt she had stolen from her brother—worn soft from years of use—riding up slightly, exposing her bare full thighs to the cool air.

She shivered, pulling the sheets higher with a sleepy grumble.

Her gaze drifted to the floor, where all her plushies and pillows had ended up sometime during the night. She pouted, not in any real sadness but with a small, dramatic frown. They probably felt cold and lonely down there all night.

"Poor things," she mumbled, scooping them back up and tucking them against her.

With a content sigh, she sank deeper into her pillow, letting herself enjoy the rare, quiet morning. And for a brief, precious moment, she allowed herself to smile softly.

Then, her phone rang.

The name on the screen made her stomach twist.

Mother.

The peacefulness evaporated in an instant, replaced by something thick, suffocating. Lilith let the phone ring, watching it vibrate on her nightstand as if it were a venomous thing. She could ignore it. She could let it go to voicemail. She could keep this one day untouched, untarnished.

But Lilith had a habit of ruining things for herself.

With a sigh, she picked up.

"Lilith," came the cold, clipped voice on the other end.

"Hi." Lilith answered quietly, already bracing herself.

Long ago, when she was fifteen, sixteen, these calls had been different.

Back then, she had sobbed into the phone, yelled, pleaded, tried to argue, tried to make herself heard.

But the years had hardened something inside her.

Now, her voice was dry, her tone void of anything that might feed her mother's hunger for control.

It was a weapon, this emptiness, one she wielded with precision.

Lilith knew the silence infuriated her mother. Knew that every lack of reaction, every emotionless answer, chipped away at the power she once had. And Lilith also knew that it made her mother crueler.

The conversation started normally. How was she? How was university?

Lilith sighed. She knew what was coming next.

"Why didn't you call earlier?"

"Maybe because I don't want to talk to you?" Lilith answered flatly.

A sharp breath from the other end. And then, predictably, the blame shifted.

"Did your stupid father tell you not to call me?"

Lilith's jaw tightened. No matter what flaws her father had, he had been there.

He had loved her. When she was little, it had been him reading her bedtime stories, not her mother.

Him washing her hair, brushing it gently so she wouldn't cry.

It was him who had stayed, while she had pathetically waited for her mother to come home and tell her goodnight.

"Do not call him like that." She met her mother's words with a steely calm, unwilling to let anger take hold. "Can you stop assuming he's the reason I don't want to talk to you?"

Her mother's voice turned icy. "You're a terrible daughter, Lilith."

Lilith had always felt like the adult in their relationship. But no—she was the child. And unconditional love? That was something only mothers were supposed to give. Just like it should be.

The blonde haired girl let out a bitter scoff. "And you're an amazing mother."

There was a brief silence, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken judgment, before her mother finally sighed, her voice taking on a sickly, disappointed edge. Then came the sharp, cutting remark. "You were such a sweet little girl. What happened to you?"

Lilith clenched her teeth. She wanted to answer, You happened. The words burned on her tongue, but she swallowed them down. She wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction of knowing just how much she had ruined her.

The conversation spiraled, just like always. Words laced with resentment, accusations thrown like knives. And then, just as suddenly, she was normal again—her tone light, almost casual, as if the past few minutes hadn't happened at all.

"Don't you want to come over? We could go shopping, I can buy you something."

Lilith rolled her eyes. "I don't need you or your gifts." But still, the guilt was there, twisting in her gut. She shouldn't feel bad. She knew that. But she did.

"You think you don't need me?" Her mother's voice dropped lower, venom laced beneath the false sweetness. "You'll come to me running in the future, crying."

Lilith almost laughed. She would rather die than ask this woman for help.

And yet, at the end of the call, her mother still said "I love you."

Lilith never knew how she could say those words after letting her suffer, after doing the things she did.

It almost felt mocking, like a cruel joke.

She never responded with the same words. It had been more than five years since I love you had last come out of her mouth towards her mother. Because she didn't love her. Most of the time, she hated her. Truly.

She always laughed at how some people claimed that parents should be respected no matter what. It was such a shallow thing to say. The truth was, it was okay to admit that you hated your parent. That they didn't deserve the pedestal society placed them on.

When the line went dead, she threw her phone onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

She rarely thought about her mother. This woman was not part of her life. She was just someone who had given birth to her. But these monthly calls always left her feeling gutted. Like hearing her mother's voice alone was enough to unravel her.

She got up, walking to the kitchen on autopilot. She took hydroxyzine and a few sleeping pills, then crawled right back into bed. What could be better than a temporary death? She didn't want to be awake. Didn't want to think.

The tears came, then the quiet sobs, until she couldn't stop them anymore. Maybe in another life, she had a warm mother. A mom.

She cried herself to sleep.

?

When she woke again, the sky outside was dark.

She reached for her phone and called Gabrielle. She needed her presence, her reassurance, the way her Gabrielle always made things feel a little less unbearable.

As soon as she picked up, Lilith whispered, "My mother called."

Without hesitation, Gabrielle responded, "Get ready."

Lilith stood in front of the mirror, trying to cover the evidence of the day with concealer, mascara, anything to hide the puffiness around her eyes.

She whined at how horrible she looked, wanting to bang her head against the mirror in frustration.

When she finally managed to look somewhat presentable, she met Gabrielle outside.

They stopped at their friend's house in the middle of heading somewhere for one reason only.

Lilith quickly snorted something—she wasn't sure if it was Xanax, something else, or just a random mix—but at that point, it didn't matter and honestly, she didn't care.

The relief came fast, dulling the sharp edges of the day just enough to make it bearable.

As quickly as they came, they were gone, moving on to the next distraction.

Complaining and crying over her mother in a place filled with soft jazz, strong alcohol, and her best friend seemed like the best solution for right now. They found themselves there without much thought, the weight of the day still heavy on her shoulders.

Even though the morning had ruined her, she didn't know that a certain woman would fix her night.