I was dying.
Words that seemed to deny everything she'd done over the past twelve years.
Words that plunged Lilith deep into the abyss called despair.
Her sobs grew louder as she buried her head in her brother's lap, her shaking shoulders echoing the collapse of everything she had tried to hold together.
But even then, Noel didn't pity her.
His hand continued brushing through her hair, gently patting her head as if to soothe her — but his mouth didn't hold back the sharp truths he had carried all this time.
He spoke of the restrictions forced on him, of how she had kept him blind, refused to tell him anything. Of how, when he had first woken from his coma, he hadn't felt safe at all. Of how he had to study emotion on his own, memorize expressions just to pretend to be normal.
Because his sister seemed to have a few screws loose… and he couldn't trust her.
