"Last I heard, you were taking some job in Europe. But that was only a couple weeks ago, and you—" He gestured helplessly. "The Lilah I knew would have destroyed that guy. Would have had him bleeding on the floor for touching her. But you just sat there like..."
Like a trained pet.Like something programmed for compliance. Like exactly what I'd become.
"I should go." I tried to stand but he caught my wrist. Gentle, careful, but I still flinched.
"Whoa. Okay. Something is seriously wrong here." His voice dropped, went careful. "Did someone hurt you? Are you in trouble? Because this isn't just a makeover, Lil. This is like... personality transplant."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit. You're wearing a fucking sundress. You said 'please' to that asshole. You let him put hands on you without breaking fingers." He leaned closer. "What happened in Europe?"
"Training," I whispered before I could stop myself.
"What kind of training turns someone into..." He gestured again, words failing. "Into whatever this is?"
Tears burned my eyes. Crying in public, another thing the old Lilah would never do. But I wasn't her anymore, might never be her again, and the weight of that loss hit fresh.
"I have to go." I stood quickly, his loosened grip letting me pull free. "Thank you for... for helping. But I can't..."
"Lilah, wait—"
But I was already moving. Out of the booth, through the coffee shop, onto the street where I could disappear into foottraffic. I heard him call after me but didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Had to get back to the apartment before complete breakdown.
The two blocks stretched endless. Each step felt watched, judged, seen through. Had Marcus noticed the way I'd called the man 'sir'? The automatic submission posture? The complete inability to establish boundaries?
He saw what you've become. Saw the pathetic doll who can't even order coffee without panicking.
I made it to my building through blurred vision. To the elevator where I could finally collapse against the wall. To my apartment where I could fall apart properly, completely, without witnesses to my destruction.
The dress came off like contaminated evidence. I stood naked in my living room, shaking from more than cold, trying to process what had just happened.
I'd failed. Failed to be Lilah. Failed to navigate simple human interaction. Failed to protect myself from the most basic predatory behavior. All my training, all my conditioning, useless in the real world. Worse than useless—actively dangerous.
What would have happened if Marcus hadn't appeared? How far would my compliance have gone? Would I have let that stranger do whatever he wanted simply because he'd taken charge? The thought made me sick, sent me running for the bathroom where nothing came up but bile and self-disgust.
"This is what you made me," I told the toilet, told him, told the hollow woman reflected in porcelain. "This broken thing that can't function. Can't protect itself. Can't even pretend to be human."
My phone buzzed. Marcus, probably. Worried about the girl who used to be his coworker, now transformed into something unrecognizable. But I couldn't face his questions. Couldn't explain that Lilah was dead and Bunny was all that remained. Couldn't make him understand that this wasn't damage but careful reconstruction.
Except it was damage, wasn't it? In the real world, outside the controlled environment of Gabriel's presence, my conditioning made me prey. Every trained response, every programmed behavior, designed for a single handler who'd vanished. Leaving me vulnerable to anyone who recognized the signals.
"Come back," I whispered to empty air. "Please come back. Can't do this without you. Can't be safe without you. Can't exist without you."
But he wasn't coming back. And I couldn't hide forever. Eventually, I'd have to leave again. Face the world. Try to function among people who hadn't signed up to handle a broken doll.
The thought sent me to the closet where I pulled out the darkest thing I could find—black jeans from my old life, soft from years of wear. A t-shirt that used to armor me in vintage band logos. Pieces of Lilah I could wear like costume.
But putting them on felt wrong. Felt like betrayal of everything I'd become. The fabric sat heavy, restrictive, nothing like the soft dresses he'd chosen. Even dressed as my old self, I looked like someone playing pretend.
"I can't be her again," I told my reflection. "Can't remember how she worked. How she moved. How she existed without permission."
My phone buzzed again. This time, curiosity won. But it wasn't Marcus.
Unknown number. Single text:You did well today.
My heart stopped. Started. Raced into overdrive.
"Gabriel?" I called out to the apartment. "Are you watching? Are you—"
