Twenty

As far as bad days went, this was probably a record low in Lilith's history. Bad start, bad middle, and now a bad end to ice the cake on her lovely, shit-tastic day.

This is Oliver's suicide all over again.

With a clenched jaw, Lilith looked Russle Johnson up and down, fighting against the urge to stare at his eyes.

Pretend he's normal, she told herself. Pretend he's just your concerned parent coming to check up on his teenaged daughter and that everything is fine.

Her hand didn't leave the doorframe. He certainly looks that way... for the most part. In fact, without the ungodly color of his eyes, he could've played the convincing role of a worried father without a hitch. From the limp quality of his thinned hair to the dark circles under his eyes...

Lilith mentally shook herself. He's not who I think I'm dealing with.

"Did... you need something?" she asked, praying he didn't hear the wavering in her voice. "I've just been here with Jack and Cole all day."

"That's a lie, Little Dove."

And... here we go. Lilith's fingers clenched around the doorframe until she could feel her pulse in her fingertips. "Excuse me?"

"I said..." Russle – no, she corrected. Abraxas - cocked his head to the side and smiled wide. "That you're lying." He stood up straighter and stuck out his jaw. "You know I hate liars."

"So you used my father's body to tell me this?"

His smile grew, revealing teeth filed to points. "I had to go somewhere after you came here." Abraxas waved around the porch. "This is a house that I cannot enter. You see?"

Though her body screamed at her not to, Lilith craned her head to where Abraxas was pointing. A bronze statue of Jesus on the cross hung over the door.

"So you --"

A fist sank into her stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. Lilith keeled over, spraying spit all over her father's – Abraxas's! - tailored jacket sleeves. As she wheezed, hands grabbed the back of her head and wrenched her forward by the hair. She screamed.

"Don't even bother," he said into her ear. His eyes glimmered with malice. "No one can hear you now."

"Let me go!" She raised a hand to strike but Abraxas's other hand grabbed her by the wrist. His feet came over hers, preventing her from kicking. Pain bloomed across her body like ink through water. Abraxas grabbed her by the chin and ran his thumb over her lips.

"Haven't I told you it's useless to fight me?" He chuckled and let her hand drop. "Compared to me, you're weak."

He let her go. The door shut and Lilith slammed against it with a cry. Invisible hands held her wrists above her head.

"You asshole!" She threw her head back and writhed against his hold.

Abraxas adjusted his sleeves and tapped his chin. "You know... Hmm. You could escape that, if you wanted to. You could grow stronger." The tapping stopped. "But something tells me you don't really care about that."

Lilith's heartbeat throbbed in her temples. "What are you talking about?"

"Come to think of it, you've never cared about that." His eyes flashed, red to brown and back again. "To think that I blessed you with abilities you don't even use. What a waste. At least Oliver used them..."

Lilith's head thudded against wood. "What. Are. You. Talking. About?" With each word, she threw her head back again and again, right over the spot Abraxas had grabbed her.

Her muscles turned to cement. From her toes to the top of her skull, everything was frozen in her.

"You're prized goods, Little Dove. Do you really think I'm going to let you break yourself?"

Try as she might, Lilith's body wouldn't respond to her commands. Abraxas came forward until their noses were inches away from each other and grabbed her chin once more, turning her head this way and that. With his other hand, he lifted her shirt up and assessed the damage.

"You don't look too bad," he noted. His grip moved to her neck and he squeezed.

Lilith's brain turned heavy. She choked into his sleeves once again. If she had been able to, her head would have lolled backwards.

God... damn it... I can't...

Ringing, then static, filled her ears. Her vision melted away. Inside her brain, something went snap.

My neck?... No...

Her body dropped to the porch floor and she hacked into the wood. The smell of ash bit her nose. Her vision swam.

I'll be back, Little Dove.

Warmth flooded her, stemming from her hands. When she cracked her eyes open, smoke poured from underneath her palms. Orange and red tendrils licked at her skin.

Lilith yelped and pushed herself back. Heat seeped through her shoes. Pain made every movement a chore as she watched Abraxas run down the road towards two retreating figures. The watery sunlight illuminated the shocks of ginger hair on the head of one figure. Lilith squinted before shaking her head.

Get in the house, she told herself. Get in the fucking house.

Before she could change her mind, Lilith bolted for the door and slammed it shut. Her lungs ached. Dull, throbbing pain radiated from just below her ribcage. The beginnings of a headache formed in her skull. Her heart raced. Lilith leaned against the door – despite her spine's screamed protests – and sighed.

What the fuck was that?

From the top of the stairs came heavy thudding. Lilith saw Cole's boots first, then his cargo pants and his stained grey t-shirt. Jack followed close behind him, eyebrows drawn together.

"We uh... heard the door slam," she said. "Everything okay?"

Lilith shrugged. "I guess. It's a long story."

Cole narrowed his eyes. "Is he mad? Do you need to leave?"

Lilith rubbed her stomach and fought the urge to cringe. "No, I'm fine here."

Cole and Jack shared a look – Will they ever stop doing that? - before Jack came forward and reached a hand out for her.

"Come on," she said with a small smile. "Let's go back to our room."

The moment Lilith got to her feet, pain shot through her and locked all her muscles in place. It took every cell of her being to not scream out loud as Jack pulled her for the stairs, though her jittery footfalls must have alarmed them because Cole stopped her after the first step.

"Jack, let her go. Hey..." He leaned in until their noses were almost touching. Abraxas's scarlet eyes flashed through her head. The close proximity made Lilith's already-pained stomach clench.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Like... really okay?"

Lilith snaked her hand free of Jack's and pushed Cole back. "I'm fine," she replied. "Don't get in my face."

Cole blinked, brows furrowing, but he dropped his hands to his sides and started up the stairs. Lilith's throat tightened as she and Jack watched him go.

Jack waited until he was near the top before she turned to Lilith. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fairly," Lilith replied. And by that, I mean not at all. The words felt thick on her tongue and her voice was raspy, but it was a response all the same and it would have to do.

Each step was its own sort of agony. Between the pounding headache at the back and top of her head to the nausea bubbling in her stomach to the bruise she was certain was forming below her ribcage, Lilith's pace remained just above a snail's crawl. By the time she made it to the landing, Jack's brows were velcroed together in the center of her forehead. Cole's entire face was creased with worry lines, like paper someone had crumpled into a ball and then tried to flatten out.

Jack held out a hand. "What happened out there?" she asked, gesturing to Lilith's form. "You're limping – Isn't she limping, Cole? You're limping. Did..." Jack's volume dropped. "Did he hit you?"

Lilith recoiled. "Wha-No!" Not him, anyway. "Why would he?"

"You weren't limping before you left." The look Jack gave her could have curdled milk. "So I'm going to ask you again: did he hit you?"

Lilith gripped the banister and wrapped an arm around herself. "No," she replied, "he didn't."

Jack nodded. "Okay. So why are you limping?"

Lilith's lips moved before she could think. "Cramps," she said. Then she glanced at Cole. "Cramps..."

"You don't have to play cryptic." Cole rolled his eyes. "I know what you mean."

"Do you need medicine? Or...?" Jack asked.

Lilith shook her head. "No. I just..." She stopped to glance up and down the hallway before replying. "I just really need to get drunk."

Jack nodded and peeled Lilith's hand from the railing. "That can be arranged."

#

Three cocktails, two wine coolers, and a can of beer - that Lilith thought tasted like horse piss – later, Lilith sat against Jack's bed with a spinning brain and a furry tongue. Some brightly-colored cartoon played on the TV, but between her own pounding headache and the way the room spun, Lilith couldn't tell what was happening. Dozens of fuzzy shapes danced in her vision. A second beer can hung limp in her grasp.

"You feeling okay?" Jack asked her, perched on the edge of her bed. Her legs were on either side of Lilith's body, her feet brushing against Lilith's thighs.

"I feel..." Lilith smacked her lips together. "Really fucking great."

"I should hope so!" Jack chuckled before continuing. "You drank a lot."

Lilith raised her can, some phrase on the tip of her tongue, but the sloshing of the remains of her drink distracted her. She stared at her extend arm for several seconds before lowering it down again.

Cole put his head on her shoulder and grabbed her free hand. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine!" She drew out the "I", waving her can around for emphasis. "I'm good. And I'm drunk." She squeezed Cole's hand in return.

"How's your stomach?" Jack asked.

Now that she thought about it, the pain had lessened after her second cocktail. Or maybe she just hadn't been thinking about it. Lilith glanced down at her stomach and rubbed it over where Abraxas had punched her.

"It... doesn't hurt too bad, I guess," she replied, though she winced as she pushed on her ribs. That motherfucker can punch good.

"You sure you don't want meds for it?"

Cole shook his head. "Not while she's like this, no."

"Eh?" Jack asked.

"It's not good for her."

"'She' is right here," Lilith grumbled, bringing her knees to her chest. The shapes on the TV continued to dance. "Jack, what are we watching?"

"Sesame Street, I think."

"Why?"

Jack picked up the remote and pressed a button on it. "Yep," she said. "Definitely Sesame Street. I don't really know."

"Oh." And with that, Lilith took a hearty swig of beer – though it made her feel like her tongue was covered in sandpaper. She belched before leaning her head against Cole's shoulder and sighing. "I'm hungry. But I'm also full." She lifted her head again as her abdomen tightened and jammed the can into Cole's hands. "I need to pee. Hold this."

"I'm just gonna drink it all!" Cole replied.

"Then do it. I don't really care." Lilith jumped to her feet. "It tastes gross anyway. I'll be right back."

Lilith made her way to the door with heavy, thunking steps and a chorus of belches. With uneven footfalls, she dragged herself to the bathroom, flicked on the lightswitch, and dragged herself to the mirror. Dark circles framed her eyes. Her hair, short as it was, looked like she'd pressed her face into the carpet and rolled around in it. Her stomach roiled and bubbled.

This was... a terrible idea.

With a groan, she plopped down on the toilet and put her face in her hands. After several rubdowns of her face – and a moment to use the facilities – she returned to the mirror once more and lifted up her shirt.

For the most part, where Abraxas had punched her was just angry and red, with faint clouds of purple throughout. Thin black lines elongated from a single point beneath her ribcage and extended from her bellybutton to just below her breasts. Lilith raised her shirt higher.

What the...?

She traced the lines with her free hand, the buzzing in her brain coming to a standstill as she did so. They didn't hurt any more than anywhere else when she touched them, but they raised out from her skin like a scar or blood vessel would. She pinched one between her thumb and forefinger and cried out as pain lanced through her.

"Shit!" she grunted. The hem of her shirt fluttered back around her hips as she dropped it. Nausea swept through her in waves. The toilet bowl seemed more appealing than it ever had before.

Before she could think or stop herself, Lilith lunged for the toilet, clinging to the rim with both hands, and vomited into the bowl. Wave after wave of cheap booze and stomach acid forced its way up and out her mouth. The back of her throat burned. Tears formed in her eyes.

As soon as it had come on, it was over. Lilith leaned against the toilet and rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. Her own stink sank into her nose. The angry beehive in her brain stopped – this time for good.

That was fucking disgusting. And with that, Lilith flushed and rose back to her feet on unsteady legs. With most of her weight against the sink, she scrubbed at her hands until they hurt and threw water at her face.

I'm never doing this again, ever.

Making it back to the bedroom was the easy part.

Jack and Cole looked up upon her return and widened their eyes in unison. She leaned against the doorway. Though her tongue felt like a block of wood in her mouth, she managed to choke out, "Got a spare toothbrush?"

Jack sighed and clucked her tongue. "You vomited, didn't you?"

"Mmhm. Cleaned my mess, though. My tongue tastes like a graveyard." Lilith straightened herself. "So... Toothbrush?"

"Uh... Yeah. I think so." Jack got to her feet. "Feel better?"

Lilith shrugged, eyeing the can in Cole's hand. "A bit."

"That's good, at least." Jack crossed the room to her dresser and rummaged through a variety of drawers for several moments. "Deodorant, perfume, toothpaste... No..."

"I can scrub my teeth with toothpaste on my finger – if I have to." Lilith ran her tongue over her teeth and grimaced at the fuzzy feeling. "Anything to get this gross taste out of my mouth."

"No, no." Jack kept digging. "I think I have one in here somewhere..."

Cole jumped to his feet. "I've got one, Lil."

"Much obliged."

The next moment, Jack jumped back from her dresser with a victorious cry. "Found one!"

Five minutes later, Lilith stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more, scrubbing at her teeth and tongue until there was blood in her spit. The toothpaste felt grainy on her tongue and the mint flavoring was weaker than she would've preferred, but it got the sour taste out of her mouth and that would have to do.

Streaks of reddish-purple flecked the sink. With a satisfied sigh, Lilith rinsed out her brush and tapped it against the chilled porcelain. After plunging it into the lighthouse-shaped toothbrush holder, she clung to both sides of the sink and stared at herself. Despite a faint green-grey hue to her skin and the raccoon circles around her eyes, she looked more normal than she had earlier. But only by a little bit.

Hello, Princess Shit-faced.

Lilith let the sink go, gave her cheeks a hearty slap, and took a deep breath. After several moments of staring, she looked down at her tshirt – she'd managed to get puke on that, too – and lifted it up again. The lines stood out against her skin, angry and inky. If she stared long enough, she could swear they were... pulsing, beating to their own sort of heartbeat among the clouds of red and purple.

No. Lilith dropped her shirt once more and slapped her cheeks again. No, no, no. She caught her own gaze in the mirror.

"From here on out, things are going to be normal." Lilith narrowed her brown eyes and pointed at herself in the mirror with as stern as a look as she could give herself. "You're going to be normal. He can't hurt you here. Things are going to go back to the way they were. No Oliver, no psychopathic shitheads..." She dropped her hands and lowered her gaze. "No... No more nonsense."

Even as she said it, an odd hollow feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. For reasons she couldn't quite explain, the words stung more than they should have.

Time to clean things up for myself.

Lilith gave herself a third and final slap on her cheeks, turning them red under the force of her palms. Then she stuck her head up, jutted out her chin, and marched back to Jack's room. The look on Jack's face stopped her dead in her tracks, right as she made to shut the door.

"Is... something wrong?" Lilith asked.

"Yeah..." Jack's wide eyes slowly returned to their normal size. "Yeah. Um..." She pressed her lips together. "Someone just called your phone. They kind of sounded like your dad but... I don't think it was him."

Lilith's heart and stomach clenched, accompanied by nausea. "Go on."

"Well." Jack folded her hands in her lap, Lilith's phone in her grasp. "They uh... they told me to tell you that they had some info on Oliver. But they sounded... weird. Like they were talking through a pillow."

Abraxas. Lilith clenched her jaw. "Anything else?"

"They said he would come by your house in an hour, to talk... and sounded pretty insistent about it all."

"So..." She leaned against the doorframe. "Do you think I should go?"

No. No. What am I doing? I just promised myself I would be normal again. I can't...

"I mean, it's up to you." Jack tossed Lilith's phone away from herself. "I personally wouldn't – it's sketchy as hell!"

Said he had info about Oliver? He can't possibly mean...

"Besides that," Jack went on. "What could they possibly know that you don't? You foun--" Jack gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. "I mean," she said through her fingers. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Lilith shrugged and chewed at her lip. If he has him, then he's just trying to bait me. But why? She rubbed at her stomach. Does it have to do with this?

"That came out wrong. It really did."

"Jack, it's fine." Lilith's hands clenched into fists. What's his angle?

"Anyway, I just... think you should stay here."

"You're leaving?"

When Lilith turned, Mrs. Zavala stood in the hallway, Cole at her heels. Mrs. Zavala's gaze was gentle as she regarded Lilith, all pinned-up hair and thick glasses. A small golden cross hung around her neck.

"This is a house I cannot enter" - because they have crosses?

Mrs. Zavala's voice shook her from her thoughts. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Uh..." Lilith glanced Jack's way before replying. "Yeah, I will. Please."

"Are you ready to go now?"

"I really don't think you should --"

Lilith cut Jack off with a look. "Give me a couple of minutes, please."

"Of course. I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

Lilith waited until Mrs. Zavala's footfalls sounded down the stairs and Cole walked in before she turned to Jack and said, "I don't suppose you have a cross necklace."

Jack blinked several times in rapid succession. "Excuse me?"

"Yaknow." Lilith drew a line around her neck with her finger. "A necklace. With a cross on it."

"Uh..." Jack looked to her dresser. "Maybe one, somewhere. Why?"

"Just curious if I could borrow it," Lilith replied.

"Yeah, but why."

Lilith shrugged. "Something tells me that this person is the sort I'll want to wear a cross around."

"But you're not --"

"I know." Lilith huffed. "Can I borrow a cross necklace or not?"

"Lil," Cole said, coming up behind her. His hand clapped her shoulder. "Are you feeling okay?"

"She's fucking lost it," Jack replied. Her voice was overcome by the sounds of her rummaging through her dressers. "But I know I can't talk some sense into you, so..." She crossed the room and slapped something into Lilith's palm. "Here. Don't lose it."

When Jack took her hand away, Lilith was left with a gold necklace in her outstretched palm. She closed her fingers around it. "Thank you."

"What's this about, Lil?" Cole asked.

"I'll explain later." Jack threw Lilith her phone and Lilith nabbed it from midair. Then Jack made shooing motions with her hands. "Go on and go home." She paused to catch Lilith's gaze. "And be safe. Please."

Lilith saluted her with two fingers. "Got it. I'll be back later."

She jumped down the stairs with a light feeling in her brain and a spring in her step. Once her shoes were on, she followed Mrs. Zavala's lead to the station wagon in the driveway. The click of their seatbelts echoed in her ears.

Lilith took a deep breath and clasped the necklace around her neck. Try to touch me now, asshole.