Page 31 of Liberating Lily

“I did this?” She held up her hands.

“You don’t remember scratching your hands and then falling over outside and getting dirt on them?”

She hated when she couldn’t remember stuff, when she had these gaps in her memories. But small bits filtered through.

Lily staring down at her hands that were scratched and feeling no pain. Running through the woods, desperate to escape, before falling over a tree root.

Urgh. The outdoors had never liked her.

“You caught up to me in the woods.”

“You should know I have cameras and alarms everywhere,” he said calmly.

“To keep me prisoner?” she snapped.

She was not doing well at pretending to be just give in. Urgh, why was it so hard?

“To keep you safe,” he said.

“I feel like that’s what someone who was keeping me prisoner would say in order to justify their actions.”

“Do you? Eat some more. Then you need to get some more sleep.”

She took another bite and glanced down at her hands. She couldn’t believe that she’d scratched her hands and arms so badly, but his explanation still didn’t explain the small bandage on the inside of her elbow.

“How did I get this?” she asked. Lily pointed at the plaster.

“That’s from having blood taken.”

He said it so matter-of-factly. As if he wasn’t trying to hide it at all.

She stared down at the bandage, her stomach rolling as memories assaulted her.

Waking up to find herself in the clinic, attached to a drip. Or with bandages on her inner elbows.

Why would he need to take blood from her while she was asleep?

She was right not to trust him. No matter what he said, how pretty his words were, he was holding her against her will.

She had to remember that.

But right now, she couldn’t think much beyond the fact that her stomach was about to give out. She jumped off the stool and nearly fell flat on her face as her legs refused to hold her up. He quickly grabbed her.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Sick. I’m gonna be sick.”

Lily held her hand over her mouth as he picked her up and rushed her into a downstairs bathroom. She leaned over the toilet, vomiting up all the dinner she’d just eaten. Which was a real shame, because she had actually enjoyed it. He was a pretty good cook.

Finally, her stomach stopped heaving. He closed the lid, flushing the toilet before lifting her onto the counter by the sink.

Reaching under the sink, he drew out a toothbrush still in its packaging and some toothpaste. He put the toothpaste on the toothbrush, and she took hold of it, brushing her teeth.

“I’ll get you a drink,” he told her before leaving.

She slid off the counter, leaning against it as she stared into the mirror.

God. She was definitely a mess. Her hair was matted, her skin pale, except for the dark marks under her eyes.