Page 54 of Creeping Lily
I’ve never seen her like this. And Bethany? My sister doesn’t cry. Not for anyone. Not until Lily.
Bethany’s never been the type to care deeply—our upbringing burned that out of her early. Our mother is, to put it bluntly, a narcissist, and she raised Bethany to think the world revolved solely around her. But then came Lily—the small-town girl who’d never tasted a waffle, who’d never been away from home for more than a week, who turned red at the sound of a swear word. Somehow, she cracked Bethany’s shell wide open.
“Bethany?” My voice is low, but it still makes her flinch.
“Lily wants to leave,” she says, almost in a whisper.
My chest tightens until it hurts.
Lily lifts her face toward me, and when our eyes lock, there’s a quiet, unspoken truth between us: she was never meant for this world. Not this campus, not the undercurrent of violence we swim in daily.
“I don’t know how to exist in this playground,” she says. Her voice is soft, raw, the words pulled from somewhere deep. Her eyes are red and swollen, her expression twisted with self-disgust. She hates admitting weakness, hates breathing it intothe air. But to me, what she calls weakness is the strongest thing about her.
She’s pure in a way that feels almost dangerous—soft, clean, untarnished. A rare gem in a place full of sharp edges and rust. The kind of beauty people spend their whole lives chasing and never find. Even like this, with her face blotchy and her lips trembling, she’s breathtaking. Watching her cry feels like someone’s dragging a blade across my chest—slow, deliberate, leaving a wound that won’t close.
Bethany moves to stand by the window, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She looks like a guard dog—fierce, protective. And I realize I like this version of my sister more than any other I’ve known. Lily has done that. Lily has given me a sister I can be proud of.
“I’m sorry,” Lily whispers, glancing at Bethany. Her voice cracks on the words, guilt dripping from every syllable.
“Lily…” Bethany starts, then stops, arms falling helplessly to her sides. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“It’s too much,” Lily says, her voice barely carrying across the room. “There’s too much pain.”
Bethany and I have talked about this before—Lily has secrets. You don’t carry that much damage without a history. But neither of us has pushed her for answers. Whatever ghosts she’s been living with, today has dragged them into the light.
“I can’t do this without you, Lily. I know I said I’d try, but I can’t.”
Bethany’s voice wavers, pleading. I’ve never seen her so close to breaking.
“Trick won’t bother you again,” I tell Lily. “You have my word.”
Her eyes glass over. “He’ll always be here. The reminder. He hates me.”
Bethany shakes her head. “He doesn’t hate you. If anything,he loves you too hard. Trick doesn’t do half-measures—it’s all or nothing. And unfortunately, he fell for you. Hard.”
“I can’t undo that,” she says, her voice breaking completely.
“You don’t have to,” Bethany replies, firm. “I’ll make sure he leaves you alone.”
And so will I. One way or another. I won’t let him set off another storm like this. She has three more years here. I won’t have them poisoned by today.
But as my eyes drift toward the desk—the rose lying there like a bloodstain against the wood—my mind snags on an uncomfortable thought. Trick might be obsessed, but that scent lingering in the air… it’s not his. It’s expensive, rare, the kind of fragrance you remember once it’s burned into you.
And right now, it’s twisting in the breeze through the open window. Whoever left that rose isn’t Trick. Which means Lily’s problems just got a hell of a lot bigger.
28
LILY
The window is open.
Again.
Not just unlatched—yawning, like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole. The cold outside drags its claws across my skin, pulling me toward the darkness inside the room instead of pushing me away.
And then it hits me.
That smell.
