WARNING: This chapter deals with mature issues, including abuse.
Part 3
Sitting on the dark, wooden chair she let her cool gaze wander over the room. There wasn't much to it. A table with two chairs, a stove, a fridge. Not too many cupboards but then a man living alone didn't really need much food storage. She watched as her former partner went over to one of those cupboards and pulled out a whiskey bottle. Then, after considering for a moment, he replaced it and withdrew some scotch instead. Lilah smirked a bit. He knew her tastes. She couldn't help but wonder why he'd
bothered to learn them.
As he poured the liquid into two separate glasses, Lindsey frowned to himself. Genius that he was, he'd just condemned himself to a week with Lilah as a houseguest. He'd moved all the way to Oklahoma to get away from everything to do with Wolfram and Hart, and now it was here, personified in his kitchen in the form of the heartless ice queen known as Lilah. Lilah, who could care less how many people were trampled over, maimed, or killed, just so long as she came out ahead of the game. She'd been that way
for as long as he'd known her, back when they were first signed on with the firm. Hell, she'd probably been born a bitch. So why had he asked her to stay? Probably some kind of warped sense of duty. Maybe his subconscious was trying to make up for the evil
he'd perpetuated as a part of Wolfram and Hart by saving someone from them. The fact that the someone was Lilah was just icing on the Karmic cake. He carried the glasses back to the table and set one in front of her, then sat down in the opposite chair.
Lilah took the drink between her two hands and stared into it for a moment, assessing her situation. She hated to admit it, but Lindsey had a point. She was too badly injured right now to go off on her own, and it was very possible that the firm wasn't the
safest place to go right now. She took a sip of her drink, hoping to soothe her frazzled nerves. Alcohol could usually calm her in any situation. It was just taking more and more of it lately. She noted the warm flannel sleeves in which her arms were encased.
"Lindsey?"
"Yeah?"
"How exactly did I end up in a flannel shirt?"
"Don't get worked up over it Lilah. The girl next door did that." he shook his head. "You're really paranoid. Course, that's nothing new." He looked at her. "I'll bet you were born with an innate distrust of men."
Sipping her drink, she made no reply.
************************************************************************
The footsteps on the stairs were loud and heavy. He was obviously drunk again. The sixteen year old sighed. For four years, it had been the same thing. Her mother would go to work at the club, and her stepfather would go to the bar and come home pissed out
of his mind. At first, she'd tried locking him out, but he'd just jimmy open the door. She'd tried pretending that she was asleep, but that hadn't stopped him from putting his filthy hands on her either. Of course, she'd tried to tell her mother, but she'd just been called a little slut, and been accused of trying to seduce her mother's husband. The bruises had lasted for over a week. So, once again, she was stuck dealing with things on her own.
The door to her bedroom opened, and the tall man lurched inside, stumbling over to the side of the bed. As he leaned over her, she could smell his sour breath, and hear his laboured breathing. Strong hands pinned her arms to either side of her, and she felt his
weight move over her. She closed her eyes and fought the churning sensation in her stomach as he moved one hand down to his belt, to begin the sweaty ritual that inevitably took place every time they were alone. This time though, something in her snapped.
She was tired of being used, and she was tired of the pain and the dirty feeling. With the hand that was now free, she slammed her knuckles into his temple. He bellowed in pain and rolled to one side, holding his head in his hands. The girl leapt forward and raked
her nails down his face, leaving deep grooves which immediately began to ooze blood. There was a loud snarl from the drunken man as he dealt her a vicious backhand that sent her sprawling to the floor. She got to her feet and made a mad dash for her dresser. Just as he grabbed her from behind, Lilah's fingers closed around a sharp letter opener that she kept on top of the dresser.
With all the strength she possessed she rammed the sharp end of the opener behind her, into his exposed abdomen. His grip on her slackened, and he tumbled to the floor, curled up in a ball. Not hesitating, she dealt him a vicious kick to the ribs. When he groaned, but did not rise, she bent over him and plucked his wallet from his jeans pocket. Quickly, she dashed over to her closet and threw some clothes into a shoulder bag. Then, without a single glance back, she fled into the night.
************************************************************************
"Lilah. Lilah, wake up." Her shoulder was being gently shaken. Slowly, grudgingly, she opened her eyes. As her vision cleared up, she saw Lindsey standing by the bedside.
"What do you want, besides to wake me up?"
"While you were sleeping I got you some clothes. I figured you wouldn't want to keep running around in one of my shirts."
Sitting up, she looked at him. "How long was I out for?"
"A few hours. Could be because you drank about half my scotch."
"I don't know what you're whining about. It wasn't very good scotch anyway."
He shook his head and deposited a shopping bag on the bed. "Do you even have it in you to be nice on occasion?"
"Nope. Not part of the package."
"I've noticed."
"Where's your shower?"
"Down the hall, third door on the left."
Without another word, she got to her feet and headed to the shower, taking the shopping bag along. Lindsey was left alone in the room. He glanced down at his dog, who had followed him in. "You know, why don't I just get a cat? At least they're not as noisy as her, and they don't drink all my alcohol."
The dog just scratched his ear.
************************************************************************
The clothes fit her perfectly. Not only that, but they were well made, and in a style that was very flattering on her. She noticed that he'd included a hairbrush in his purchases. Shrugging, she began to brush out the tangles in her dark hair. If he wanted to blow his money on her, he was more than welcome to do it. He was just helping her because of some guilt complex anyway. He was just trying to right his awful wrongs and all that crap. It didn't really matter what happened with her, so long as he was able to assuage his poor little conscience. All he was doing was using her. But that was fine, because she was getting something out of it in return. Besides, she wouldn't be here long. There was no way that she would let herself depend on him, or rely on his charity. If it was true that she couldn't go back to the firm, then she would just find a job elsewhere. She had credentials and the kind of attitude that would get her anywhere she wanted to be. Cutthroat ruthlessness. Yeah, that made her a bitch on wheels, but it also made her
successful. She'd never have to worry about taking crap from anyone again, and she could be her own person now. Couldn't she?
Enough of the deep sentimentality. She ran the brush through her hair one last time, then went looking for Lindsey.
************************************************************************
Part 3
Sitting on the dark, wooden chair she let her cool gaze wander over the room. There wasn't much to it. A table with two chairs, a stove, a fridge. Not too many cupboards but then a man living alone didn't really need much food storage. She watched as her former partner went over to one of those cupboards and pulled out a whiskey bottle. Then, after considering for a moment, he replaced it and withdrew some scotch instead. Lilah smirked a bit. He knew her tastes. She couldn't help but wonder why he'd
bothered to learn them.
As he poured the liquid into two separate glasses, Lindsey frowned to himself. Genius that he was, he'd just condemned himself to a week with Lilah as a houseguest. He'd moved all the way to Oklahoma to get away from everything to do with Wolfram and Hart, and now it was here, personified in his kitchen in the form of the heartless ice queen known as Lilah. Lilah, who could care less how many people were trampled over, maimed, or killed, just so long as she came out ahead of the game. She'd been that way
for as long as he'd known her, back when they were first signed on with the firm. Hell, she'd probably been born a bitch. So why had he asked her to stay? Probably some kind of warped sense of duty. Maybe his subconscious was trying to make up for the evil
he'd perpetuated as a part of Wolfram and Hart by saving someone from them. The fact that the someone was Lilah was just icing on the Karmic cake. He carried the glasses back to the table and set one in front of her, then sat down in the opposite chair.
Lilah took the drink between her two hands and stared into it for a moment, assessing her situation. She hated to admit it, but Lindsey had a point. She was too badly injured right now to go off on her own, and it was very possible that the firm wasn't the
safest place to go right now. She took a sip of her drink, hoping to soothe her frazzled nerves. Alcohol could usually calm her in any situation. It was just taking more and more of it lately. She noted the warm flannel sleeves in which her arms were encased.
"Lindsey?"
"Yeah?"
"How exactly did I end up in a flannel shirt?"
"Don't get worked up over it Lilah. The girl next door did that." he shook his head. "You're really paranoid. Course, that's nothing new." He looked at her. "I'll bet you were born with an innate distrust of men."
Sipping her drink, she made no reply.
************************************************************************
The footsteps on the stairs were loud and heavy. He was obviously drunk again. The sixteen year old sighed. For four years, it had been the same thing. Her mother would go to work at the club, and her stepfather would go to the bar and come home pissed out
of his mind. At first, she'd tried locking him out, but he'd just jimmy open the door. She'd tried pretending that she was asleep, but that hadn't stopped him from putting his filthy hands on her either. Of course, she'd tried to tell her mother, but she'd just been called a little slut, and been accused of trying to seduce her mother's husband. The bruises had lasted for over a week. So, once again, she was stuck dealing with things on her own.
The door to her bedroom opened, and the tall man lurched inside, stumbling over to the side of the bed. As he leaned over her, she could smell his sour breath, and hear his laboured breathing. Strong hands pinned her arms to either side of her, and she felt his
weight move over her. She closed her eyes and fought the churning sensation in her stomach as he moved one hand down to his belt, to begin the sweaty ritual that inevitably took place every time they were alone. This time though, something in her snapped.
She was tired of being used, and she was tired of the pain and the dirty feeling. With the hand that was now free, she slammed her knuckles into his temple. He bellowed in pain and rolled to one side, holding his head in his hands. The girl leapt forward and raked
her nails down his face, leaving deep grooves which immediately began to ooze blood. There was a loud snarl from the drunken man as he dealt her a vicious backhand that sent her sprawling to the floor. She got to her feet and made a mad dash for her dresser. Just as he grabbed her from behind, Lilah's fingers closed around a sharp letter opener that she kept on top of the dresser.
With all the strength she possessed she rammed the sharp end of the opener behind her, into his exposed abdomen. His grip on her slackened, and he tumbled to the floor, curled up in a ball. Not hesitating, she dealt him a vicious kick to the ribs. When he groaned, but did not rise, she bent over him and plucked his wallet from his jeans pocket. Quickly, she dashed over to her closet and threw some clothes into a shoulder bag. Then, without a single glance back, she fled into the night.
************************************************************************
"Lilah. Lilah, wake up." Her shoulder was being gently shaken. Slowly, grudgingly, she opened her eyes. As her vision cleared up, she saw Lindsey standing by the bedside.
"What do you want, besides to wake me up?"
"While you were sleeping I got you some clothes. I figured you wouldn't want to keep running around in one of my shirts."
Sitting up, she looked at him. "How long was I out for?"
"A few hours. Could be because you drank about half my scotch."
"I don't know what you're whining about. It wasn't very good scotch anyway."
He shook his head and deposited a shopping bag on the bed. "Do you even have it in you to be nice on occasion?"
"Nope. Not part of the package."
"I've noticed."
"Where's your shower?"
"Down the hall, third door on the left."
Without another word, she got to her feet and headed to the shower, taking the shopping bag along. Lindsey was left alone in the room. He glanced down at his dog, who had followed him in. "You know, why don't I just get a cat? At least they're not as noisy as her, and they don't drink all my alcohol."
The dog just scratched his ear.
************************************************************************
The clothes fit her perfectly. Not only that, but they were well made, and in a style that was very flattering on her. She noticed that he'd included a hairbrush in his purchases. Shrugging, she began to brush out the tangles in her dark hair. If he wanted to blow his money on her, he was more than welcome to do it. He was just helping her because of some guilt complex anyway. He was just trying to right his awful wrongs and all that crap. It didn't really matter what happened with her, so long as he was able to assuage his poor little conscience. All he was doing was using her. But that was fine, because she was getting something out of it in return. Besides, she wouldn't be here long. There was no way that she would let herself depend on him, or rely on his charity. If it was true that she couldn't go back to the firm, then she would just find a job elsewhere. She had credentials and the kind of attitude that would get her anywhere she wanted to be. Cutthroat ruthlessness. Yeah, that made her a bitch on wheels, but it also made her
successful. She'd never have to worry about taking crap from anyone again, and she could be her own person now. Couldn't she?
Enough of the deep sentimentality. She ran the brush through her hair one last time, then went looking for Lindsey.
************************************************************************
