Chapter V

I

Little by little, the numbing sensation recedes and my eyes open by force of habit. There are people around me, but I can hardly see their shadow, much less their faces. Their tone is harsh and whatever they say sounds more like a reproach than a cheerful conversation. As I gain consciousness of my body, I can feel my heart beat faster while my hands fail to grasp the sheets. I guess that, if there are sheets, it means I'm on a bed, although it doesn't look like mine. I just feel… exhausted.

Someone gets closer. The voice sounds familiar, probably a woman's. She asks me something, but I can't understand her well. I think she's angry at me. I don't want to, but I haven't got the strength to pull out my arm from her grasp. The needle goes in, and—

II

From beyond the abyss, she calls me. A deep guttural roar – a sweat melody. The orange hue is so pervasive I cannot really fathom what awaits my homecoming. It feels warm in here. Before I can make it, I hear a voice pulling me out. She also wants to call my attention. She demands my presence. There is a part of me in that voice.

When she is done pulling me, I get the feeling she becomes the one that runs away. Through the liquid, the fog, the maze… I run. I try to reach her. The distance, though, it never changes. It is permanent, as if pre-designed or arbitrary. I plead her to stop fleeing. I plead her to reveal her face. When her little feet get stuck, glued to the floor, I take her in. I know this girl. How can you unwind a mirror?

"She's coming for me," she says.

I cannot find the right words to say.

"We must hide," she insists. "The old hag is coming for us".

She takes my hand and I fix my stare on her.

"They will hate you, too." Her look is harsh. "In the end, the Lilim are all hollow…"

Tears start rolling down my cheeks. Is it this what they call crying?

"And they will shred you, cut you down into pieces that can be stored away with the hope of, one day, stuffing a heart inside their void."

III

When I wake up screaming, he's there to catch me. My groin burns. He tells me to calm down, to stop shuddering. It seems I have plucked out my catheter. He tells me I've been there for three days. It's the medical ward. We're still in the headquarters. He takes my hand, caresses it. He swears the doctors were worried about me. Everybody was. His eyes are sunken and the light reflecting on his glasses outlines a series of watermarks.

"Rei, I'm so happy to know you are alive and well."

He hates me the most.