When Lillian arrived at her flat, everything was as she’d left it. Beige carpets, quaint furniture and porcelain cups visible through the glass of the armoire. Her alarm clocked flashed mute atop the nightstand. 6:00 AM. On a normal day, she’d awake at 6AM, boil Pearl Dragon tea and sip its aromatic flavor whilst gazing the sunless horizon.

Her first thought had been drive to the hospital or the Police Station but mindless routine had arrived her here. Home. A place of comfort; the illusion of safety. Habit guided her actions. Her fingers and feet shuffled her kitchen to prepare tea and change clothes. She couldn’t. She’d failed. She needed air; she slid the glass doors to her balcony.

The overcast skies hued stillborn grey. The ocean scented the breeze; it kissed her skin wet. Harshly, she inhaled. Her faucet dripped listlessly in background:

Plop. Plop. Plop.

“I feel so dirty...”

Bluhhdoop.

“So ugly.”

Splash!

Dumb bitch.

She ran a glass of warm water from the kitchen faucet and collapsed into the couch. She drank, gulped. She grimaced. She could still taste him. Her fingertips grazed her scratched collarbone and shoulders. Her nails clutched wads of hair; she curled fetal and lamented. “Dumb bitch.” The words jammed in her chest.

“It was probably the wrong fucking address. You think James would buy drugs from a place so sketch? Dressed all... like that for yourself; you probably--Stop.”

Lillian thought to call someone, anyone, but they’d taken her phone. She’d felt itchy. She’d felt numb. Shivering and hot. Hurriedly, she stripped the clothes they’d given her and fled to the bathroom. She flashed the vanity lights and examined herself naked. Her snowy skin dulled, knees, wrist and shoulders scratched ruddy. Across her abdomen he’d written in sharpie.

“Slut. Mi amor. Quiet & Agreeable.”

Violet lines of mascara cascaded her face. I look like a clown. She choked back tears. She felt a fool. She changed clothes and slid the ones they’d given her into a plastic bag. Lilith. She washed her face. She resolved. She wouldn’t shower less she rid any evidence. She rolled her eyes and slid the money, pills and weed into a dresser. Lousy minx.

It was still morning when she arrived the hospital. She hadn’t eaten. She wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t tired, just frightened and seething. The day still hadn’t felt real. She shuffled through automatic doors, dressed in a college alumni hoodie and dark grey sweatpants. Her hair still disheveled and her eyes ruddy from sleeplessness and shed tears. The attendant took one look at Lillian and knew. She was ushered to a small room. She traded her name, insurance card and driver’s license for a clipboard. A doctor arrived at some point--a man.

He’d a black toupee and crows feet that crinkled gently at the corners of his glasses. His smile reached his hazel eyes.

Why was he smiling?

“Good morning.” The Doctor said.

What the fuck was so good about it?

He was a professional, gentle and direct. He’d asked her some questions and monotonously Lillian had answered. After some-odd five minutes of customary exchange, Lillian mumbled.

“You’re as nice as everybody seems.”

“Pardon?” The Doctor inquired.

“Sorry... It’s nothing.” Lillian smiled; she hadn’t need to. She didn’t need to comfort him.

Make sure you save some of that kindness for yourself.

She vomited the words. “I need to call my Mother.” The doctor handed her a phone. “Of course.” He bowed gently then exited.

The dial tone stretched forever. She hadn’t considered what she’d say. How she would explain it. Which details to accentuate and which were unimportant. Her mom answered. “Girl, I’ve been trying to reach you.”

Lillian just regurgitated everything. Every thought and emotion she’d felt in thirteen hours.

“Mom, something bad happened and I’m sorry.” Lillian apologized profusely. “I was raped, Mom.” Her voice crumpled in the microphone. “I was raped and I was so stupid. Careless. You taught me better; I know you did. The way I was dressed... I didn’t listen to the signs. I should’ve never put myself in that situation. But I was stupid, Mother. I didn’t listen. Because I didn’t take those precautions as a woman. I don’t know what to do from here.” They wept. “I feel gross. I don’t like myself. What do I do from here? How do I help myself?”

The Doctor peeked through the door, nodded and acknowledged to give her more time. Behind him Lillian could see the black boots and navy blue uniform of a police officer. Lillian considered the arduous and painful task it would be prosecuting Elijah and testifying; her gut clench.

“Mom. The Police are here. I’m going to talk to them and call you back. Please. Please, Mom. Let me tell, James. I know you are angry, but please. I love you.” The phone clicked.

Her mother had warned her for years about watching the company you keep. She’d never liked James. He was the fraternity type, daring, charismatic if not reckless at times. But these were all the reason she liked James. He was fun. He made her feel safe and wanted.

“No man who cares for or respect his women would send her to deal.”

But he was the one who’d sent her there. Elijah’s words haunted her. His amber eyes and lupine gaze felt fresh and lecherous across her body; she shivered. She’d felt raw and exposed even all these miles away.