TheBeautifulNerd: Thanks so much for your lovely long review, I love Connie's character and I love writing it too. Iain is going to be a big help to Lily in this story
milali: Aw, thanks! Yes, you'll find out more about what happened and I hope you like it xx
Thanks so much for reading, you guys are the best. Hope you like this chapter xx
Warning – this chapter contains themes some people could find upsetting. Don't read on if you're easily affected by self-harm or suicide.
Lily rolled her eyes.
'Can I see your wrists, please, Lily?' her psychologist said quietly. She pulled her already-misshapen sleeves over her forearms, shaking her head mutely. Dr Patel sighed, but his face remained patiently impassive.
'I haven't done anything.'
'I didn't say you had.'
A couple more wasted seconds ticked past. 'Shall we do some association?' Dr Patel suggested, after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
'No.' God, she sounded like a five-year-old. Though, truth be told, she hardly felt fifteen.
'Is there anything you would like to talk to me about, Lily?' Dr Patel's eyes were wide and earnest across the battered desk. He was young, maybe late twenties, with an expressive, compassionate face and a soothing voice, like a hypnotist. Your average shrink.
Lily shrugged, her frame birdlike beneath the oversized sweatshirt. After a second, she spoke, her words unsteady, hesitant.
'I still have nightmares. Sometimes. Not as much anymore, but…' her voice trailed off.
'I see,' Dr Patel said slowly. 'And what happens in these nightmares?' She uncrossed her legs, feeling self-conscious with those eyes never leaving her face. He uncrossed his legs too, mirroring her.
'Usually I'm just – I'm with Kia, and she…' Lily's voice splintered and broke off.
'Just take your time,' Dr Patel said gently.
'Well, I see it all over again. Kia on the floor, and me – me…I'm just standing over her and I can't help.' Lily refused to blink, feeling tears clinging to her eye lashes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd bothered to wear makeup. What was the point anyway, when some days she looked like a sallow-skinned, skeletal freak and other days she could barely look at the mirror for fear of what she'd see there? 'Sometimes māmā and my – my father are there too, and there saying things – shouting at me. Shouting all the – the things they said that night, when…when I – I came home without her – without Kia.' She could feel her cheekbones growing blotchy as tears slid down her face, trickling across the sharp contours of her cheekbones, over the sunken hollows beneath her eyes and down past her chapped, bitten lips into the collar of her sweatshirt, sticky and salty. She could taste them. It was a familiar taste.
'What are they saying?' There's no probing in the question. It was a gentle nudge, but she felt she owed it to him. After all, he'd spent hours upon hours in this cramped, poky little office with her – the insane, too-thin girl with knife marks on her forearms and lank hair. A year ago, she would've been stuck into her homework by now, her hair glossy and shiny as she helped herself to her mother's famous chow mein and spring rolls. Kia would have been sitting across for her, commenting on how māmā really needed to learn to cook English meals. Cara would be rolling her eyes in a corner, her face framed by her newly-dyed hair.
'They – they're saying –' Deep breaths. Count to ten. 'It's all my fault. That I was a stupid, careless girl and Kia would still be alive if it wasn't for me.' Her thoughts and emotions were knotting inside her head, becoming more and more tangled as she struggled to separate them. 'I left her to die. They were saying – saying it was all my fault. All – my -fault.' Her breath was catching on the knots which were tightening with a menace. 'They were saying I killed her.'
The words floated through the room, leaving everything vibrating, like a piano after a final, crashing chord. The chaos inside her head was dissipating now. Things made sense again. 'They're right, aren't they?'
Dr Patel opened his mouth to say something, but the words were still clanging to loudly in Lily's ears for her to hear him. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her…
Lily woke with a gasp, like a fish out of water. She was soaked in an icy night sweat, her baggy t-shirt clinging to her overly prominent ribs, a damp patch staining the small of her back. Her spine was crawling, her hands were quaking, her head still spinning from the aftermath of the dream. She checked the clock, her heart still pounding a drum roll beneath the fabric of her shirt.
Five thirty.
Her head felt like it was going to split open as a million thoughts stung and splintered her skull. I killed her. All my fault. Kia would still be alive…if…if it wasn't for me.
Choking down her hysteria, she swung her legs out of bed, feeling the mattress give as she stood. The normalcy of the action soothed her, and the clamp on her lungs loosened somewhat. She headed to the bathroom, remnants of the dream catching on her subconscious. All my fault. I killed her.
She stood in the shower, letting the water run frigid. The numbing cold shocked her mind out of the tangled dream. Savouring the pain, she spun the shower dial until the water was blisteringly hot, banishing the thoughts until only one remained.
It sang in her ears as she pinned up her hair and strode through her flat. It echoed in her head as she made black tea – no milk, no sugar – and slipped into her a fresh t-shirt and leggings. I killed her. I killed her.
She shivered as she stood on the scales. She seemed to be permanently cold these days, her muscles weak with tremors. No amount of sunshine could warm her. Only Iain's kisses – electrifying and full of love – made her feel substantial. Warm. Like more than just a too-curvy doctor drifting through the days.
She frowned as she picked up the scales and shook them. That couldn't be right. In accordance to almost all medical studies, she was severely, almost dangerously underweight, but that just couldn't be right. Her hips were still soft and flabby, her thighs vast and her ribs, though countable, were layered with fat.
I killed her.
With a shriek tearing from her lungs, Lily threw the scales to the ground, where they shattered. Glass spread across the tiles, chunks of cracked plastic littering the floor. Silent tears streaming down her face, Lily dropped to her knees and pressed her palms to the wreckage, barely wincing as shards pierced the tender skin.
What is wrong with me? She'd gone insane. Finally, completely and utterly mental. She'd pushed Connie away, and now she'd told Iain about Kia. He must hate her now. She'd kept such a massive secret, for such a long time. It was eating her up from the inside, poisoning her mind and her relationships, and now, letting the blood flow from her hands, it was filling her up and drowning her from within.
I can't escape this, she thought desperately. She'd been going through her everyday motions this morning – making tea, combing her hair, showering – with the secret screaming and clawing at her sanity. Iain thought she was at best flaky, and at worst – probably a liar. And Connie…
Lily suppressed a moan. Connie did care for her. She did.
But maybe she was fooling herself. It was Connie's job to care for her staff. Maybe she just didn't want anyone else to spot whatever in hell was going on with Lily. Maybe she didn't want to be accused of negligence. Because who, in all honesty, had any reason to care about her?
IkilledherIkilledherIKILLEDHER…
Her hand felt for her phone, scrabbling over fragments of the scales. It had fallen from the shelf when she'd thrown the scales at the wall, and lay amongst the debris, cracks spidering the surface. Holding it in trembling hands, blood trickling from her knuckles and palms, she traced a fingertip across the screen. Red bloomed from her skin.
She drew in a shaky breath and imagined her chaotic, crazy thoughts falling into drawers. Carefully, she shut the drawer labelled Iain. As if he loves me now he knows I've kept such a massive secret from him. She blocked of any thoughts of her mother – how her mother would feel, what her mother would think. She has Cara. She'll be fine. Slowly, the clamp on her lungs loosened, the knots relaxed for the first time in months as Lily came to a decision.
She didn't want anyone to interfere. She tapped Connie's number, exhaling a long, quivering breath when her answer-machine rang through the bathroom. Bringing the fragmented phone screen closer, she spoke into it. She felt an eddy of pride whirl through her – fleeting, then gone – when she heard how normal she sounded. Like she didn't have a care in the world.
She let the phone fall from her grasp, where it finally shattered.
I killed her. Her pulse was thrumming in her head, so fast it became one constant, unending vibration, so loud – so loud…
The thoughts wouldn't stop coming, detonating within her skull. She felt her mind was aching with the effort of staying sane. Any second now, she would explode inside. Fireworks popped behind her eyes.
Right now, more than anything – more than being thin, more than having Iain love her, more than to be able to have Kia back or eat without wanting to puke – Lily wanted peace.
She wanted her head to be quiet again. She wanted the voices to go away, and the guilt, and the fear and hatred and anger and shame and doubt.
Lily wanted peace.
But she couldn't find it.
I killed her.
Maybe now, she could join her.
Connie stripped off her gloves as she entered her office. The serene atmosphere of silence enveloped her as she closed the door. She'd never fully appreciated how wonderful the mere absence of sound could be.
It was a pandemonium outside. The ED was stretched to it's limits, and under the guise of having some paperwork to sort through, Connie had taken her break early in an effort to escape the mania. Sinking into a desk chair, she let her mind wander – and as per usual, her mind circled back to what had been bothering her all night, and all morning – Lily.
Lily's shift started in an hour. Preoccupiedly, Connie flicked open her phone and scrolled through her messages, still savouring the sweet, sweet quiet.
Connie had already decided to tell Lily – no, order her – to take a couple of days off. Maybe a week. She was fading away, become more bone than flesh, her eyes constantly shadowed by stress and lack of sleep. And then of course there was the issue of the cutting. Even in Lily's more severe bouts of anxiety – after the minibus crash, and when she'd crashed her moped – she'd never sunk to this level. Though Connie knew Lily would hate for her to interfere, she was already looking into getting the young doctor some counselling. Lily needed to learn that occasionally, independence could be a fault. It was a lesson Connie had trouble with sometimes too.
She had a voicemail from Lily. Tapping it, she leant back as she heard Lily's voice crackle through the room.
'Hi, Mrs Beauchamp. I just – just wanted to let you know that I won't – that I'm unwell and I'm not coming into work today. I'm really sorry. I'm really, really sorry. Tell Iain for me. '
Connie frowned. While she felt a measure of relief that Lily could see she needed a break, she couldn't help but feel an inexplicable pinprick of worry. Lily's voice sounded ordinary – even, apologetic, offhand – but it sparked some primal sense in Connie. Her doctor's instincts were telling her something was wrong.
She shook back her hair. It was nothing. Lily had finally seen sense and was giving herself a well-needed break. She wanted her to tell Iain.
That didn't sit right. Why didn't Lily call Iain herself, as they were now – officially – an item? It was such an insignificant little detail, but it added to Connie's unexplainable, but growing, unease.
Maybe they'd fought? It would explain why Iain had seemed distracted in the cursory moments they'd spent together today. Connie sighed, knowing she was overthinking. Maybe she'd give Lily a call later on today, just see how she was doing.
Despite the edginess hovering at the back of her mind, Connie brushed her hair back, slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and clacked out of her office, ready to do battle with the unruly ED.
'Something on your mind, Iain?'
Iain turned to see Jez, a basketball in the crook of his arm. 'No, nothing much,' he replied, though he couldn't keep back a sigh.
After last night, with Lily abruptly cancelling their date and telling him about her dead sister, he was left reeling – and with a slight anxiety preying on his mind. She'd never even mentioned Kia – as far as he could tell – to anyone. The raw, naked vulnerability on her face when she'd told him had frightened him – seeing somebody usually so self-assured and certain hovering on the edge of something very dark. That look still haunted him, more than anything she'd said. He couldn't get it off of his mind.
'Something to do with Lily?' Jez dropped the ball, deftly catching it again with one hand and flinging it towards the basketball hoop. It clattered to the ground. 'Did something happen at your date?'
'Nothing happened at our date. Literally nothing. That's the point. She cancelled,' Iain said, keeping his face impassive. He scooped the ball from the air and gave it a careless throw.
'Aw, tough luck, mate,' Jez said, overly sympathetic. His mouth twitched. 'Don't tell me she cancelled because she was working. Because I can see that happening a lot if this lasts.'
Iain lobbed the ball at him. Jez dodged nimbly. 'No, she just – didn't feel like it. There'll be other dates.'
Jez nicked the ball from the air and attempted to throw it back, but Iain tackled him, and they tussled companionably for a moment.
It was nice to have a break. The shift had been non-stop, relentless call-outs. Iain had barely had time to ponder what Lily had told him, but it also meant he hadn't had a second to speak to her. In fact, he hadn't even seen her today. She was probably working in cubicles, especially as Connie seemed to be a bit concerned about her wellbeing at the moment – yet another thing for Iain to muse over when he got the chance. Lily seemed to have crossed some kind of line in her dieting now – the 'healthy' line. She was wasting away.
Entering the crammed, stuffy ED, Iain winced as the smell of vomit hit his nose. Saturday noon was not one of their worst times, but not one of their best either. Mainly drunks nursing injuries consequent of a night of hard drinking. The waiting room was packed, and Noel had a lengthy queue in front of the reception desk.
No sooner had Iain taken two steps into the hospital's interior he was collared by a harried Mrs Beauchamp. Her gloves were bloodied and she stripped them off as she spoke, barely pausing in her stride.
'Lily's not here if you're looking for her, Iain. She called in sick this morning.'
'Oh,' said Iain, disconcerted. 'Well, I'll – I'll check on her after work then, my shift finishes in a moment.'
Connie nodded then vanished into the throng of doctors and patients. Iain stared after her for a second, then left the manic ED and strode off to collect his things from his locker.
Why hadn't Lily called him? Didn't she want to, after last night? Grabbing his stuff, Iain changed quickly and clambered into his car, calling Lily's mobile. It went straight to voicemail. He frowned and tried again.
She's probably just sleeping, he reasoned, pulling out of the parking lot. He needed to speak to her, though. He wanted to tell her he understood about Kia, and – he admitted to himself – he was missing her. They'd hardly kissed last night, and right now he found himself hungering for her company.
Maybe now, with her vulnerable and her secret for him to see, he could pluck up the courage to tell her he loved her.
The dent in the bathroom wall dropped flakes of plaster onto the tiles below.
It was quiet. Very quiet. Little sound seeped through the half-open window, and the only breath in the room was light and scarcely audible. The phone ringing reverberated in the silence, bouncing of the walls, ceiling, the floor.
The floor was littered with the cracked remains of the scales and flooded with crimson. The entire bathroom was the scene of destruction. The cabinets were ransacked, the contents splayed across the sink and the tiles, and a packet of razors had been torn open, the blades glinting in the half-light.
Dark scarlet stained the tiles and the shirt of the slumped figure in the shadowy room.
Lily lay with her back against the bath and her head tilted to the ceiling. Her wrists dangled at her sides, two neat cuts trickling red and her eyes were half-open, stars glittering inside.
She was only semi-conscious; lost in her head. Slipping between memories and reality. The memories were sweeter, softer. Reality was cold and harsh and painful. She let herself drift.
She was on the swing at the local park, the wind racing past her cheeks as she flew back and forth. Before her, she could see the outline of the street she lived on; beyond that, the city of Hong Kong. From behind her, she could hear Kia laughing, music carried on the breeze as though the sound had wings.
Lily could hear the tap dripping, the sound rhythmic and deafening in her dizzy head. She let her eyelids fall again.
She stood outside the school gates, the September air crisp around her. Autumn leaves whirled around her feet in a blur and in a sudden ache, she missed China. It had been three years. She was eleven now, and she had Kia beside her, hand clutching hers. Her first day at high school. Kia smiled, already worldly-wise and – in that moment – exactly what Lily needed.
Lily could hear her phone, it's ringtone piercing. But she was too tired. Too tired.
Kia tapped her under the chin, gently, and thirteen-year-old Lily lifted her head obediently. Kia's hands were light as cobwebs as she brushed the eyeshadow onto Lily's eyelids, muttering under her breath in Chinese. 'Stay still, Lìlì!' she snapped, and Lily stopped wriggling. 'Good.' Kia stood back to admire her handiwork. 'There, all done!'
Lily could feel tears seeping from beneath her closed eyelids. She could hear somebody knocking at the door, an insistent tapping.Iain. Lily shivered.
'Don't go,Qǐyà!' Lily pleaded, as Kia clicks open the front door almost soundlessly. 'What if dad finds out? He'll get mad.'
Kia just laughed, that new, wild laugh Lily didn't recognise. Her eyes sparked wickedly. 'He won't find out. Unless you tell him.'
Kia knew as well as Lily that Lily would never tell. She'd known about Kia's late night excursions for a while now, but to break Kia's confidence would be unthinkable. But to think of Kia at one of those loud, hot parties with drunk boys and drugs…
'Come on, Lily. Live a little.' Kia kept her hand on the doorknob as they stared at each other. Lily's stomach twisted anxiously, but she gave in – as usual. 'I'll come. To keep an eye on you.' It wasn't the first time Lily had felt like it was she was the one who was a year older. Lily slipped into a jacket and stepped towards the door.
Kia snorted. 'Not like that, you don't!' Kia took her by the hand and lead her up to her room, swift but silent, her eyes playful. She tugged out a couple of low-cut tops Lily didn't know she had. 'Let's fix you up.'
Lily smiled as she basked in her sister's glow. She was so special.
Maybe Lily could be special, too.
Lily felt her last drop of consciousness as she pictured Kia's smile. It was so bright. So beautiful. So alive.
She knew this wouldn't have been what Kia wanted.
But it was too late now.
I'm so sorry if this chapter upset anyone. I might change the rating if you think it's a bit extreme. Please review and thanks so much for reading xx
