Page 26 of Pray for Scars
No one will want you now, you understand? No one will want you, so be good for me, okay, Slut? Be good for Daddy.
No. No.No.
A sob tears through my throat and I can’t fight it back.
“It’s okay, Lilith,” Lucifer says quietly as he pulls me closer, his lips moving against my hair. “It’s okay. What do you see? Who hurt you?”
I beat against his chest, yanking my head away from his warmth. I try to stand, but he doesn’t let go.
I have to get out of here. I’m not even sure why I didn’t fight before. Why I rode in his car in silence. Why I let him take me into this church.
Because you trusted him, and trust is not something you should ever give away so lightly. Especially when you can’t even trust yourself.
I push against him again, kicking my feet, trying to reach solid ground, but he only locks his arms around me tighter.
“Let me go,” I say, quiet at first, and then louder. “Let me go!”
He doesn’t. “Talk to me.”
“Let.Me. Go!”I scream at the top of my lungs, my words ringing in this room void of light. Of warmth.
I hear his breath catch. I feel him deflate even as he pulls me tighter. He maneuvers me with ease, so I’m straddling him, my legs around his waist, and he tries to push my head to his shoulder.
I push away from him, clawing at him, scratching, screaming at the top of my lungs.
His arms lock around my waist and I slap his face, run a hand through his short curls and twist them as hard as I can, my blood pounding in my ears.
He doesn’t react, doesn’t fight back.
My muscles are tired, heavy, and he doesn’t let me go, even as a guttural roar comes from my mouth.
But I can’t keep fighting.
I’m so, so heavy.
I deflate, sinking against his warm body as he holds me tighter.
I’m tired of fighting.
I’m too tired.
My bones ache with my exhaustion. From the running I’ve been doing since I was born.
“Don’t run, Lilith,” he whispers as my breath comes out in quick pants and he strokes my hair. “Don’t fight. Tell me, baby girl, tell me what you see.”
I close my eyes, heart racing as I try to catch my breath. I let go completely, and his arm around me tightens, his fingers massaging my scalp. I can feel his touches deeper than I should, a peaceful vibration that threatens to keep me out of the darkness.
But I want to dive into the darkness. I want him to come with me.But he’s already there,a voice in my head says.
“Tell me what you see, and I’ll be right here, okay baby?”
I see it.
Darkness rising from the ground, towering over me. A wicked angel that moves when I move. When I turn around, it steps behind me.
But it isn’t the darkness that fucks me.
Instead, it’s a woman with wire-rimmed glasses, peering at me from behind a desk, a slight curl of her thin upper lip as she looks at the eight-year-old me sitting across from her with a healthy mixture of disgust and pity.
