“You don’t hate me, Lilith,” I whispered, hoping she could see how sorry I was. “You love me, and you hate yourself for it.”
Suddenly, she stopped hitting me, and she let out a keening wail, her body going limp in my arms. I caught her as she collapsed, and I guided her with me to the ground, folding her into my chest as her anger shifted to anguish.
“No, no, no,” she sobbed, burying her face into my chest. “I hate you.”
I shook my head against her as I held her, my own eyes pricking with the unfamiliar hot sting of tears. I swallowed hard enough it was audible.
“You don’t. You love me, and it’s okay. It’s okay, Lilith.”
She couldn’t answer. She just cried while I held her. I wasn’t even sure anymore if getting her memories back would be enough to erase the damage I had caused.
There was no handbook for what she was going through, and I had no idea how she would reconcile her current self with her past self. My heart squeezed in my chest as I realized she would need to suffer through the added trauma of the time she had spent in purgatory.
A shot of fear coursed through me at the thought. I was out of time. She was either going to fight or break, and there was nothing I could do to save her. This wasn’t something I could force her to do. She needed to want this on her own, and I had never felt more helpless.
She shook in my arms as she cried, and I tightened my grip around her as if just holding her would keep her from falling apart.
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered as I held her, knowing that it didn’t matter but wanting her to hear it anyway.
After what felt like an eternity,her tears finally stopped, and she looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“I’m tired,” she said, and I nodded, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. I got her a pair of soft cotton shorts and one of her favorite T-shirts to change into just as there was a soft knock on the door.
One of the line cooks from the kitchen had come by to drop off the dish Lilith had made. Thanking the line cook, I wheeled the tray of food next to the bed and lifted the sterling silver domed plate cover to reveal her expertly plated curry.
Her puffy eyes widened at how the team had plated her meal. The rice had been molded into a perfect little cup, and the curry and mango salsa were skillfully positioned around the edge of the plate. Tiny pieces of cilantro had been added with precision as a garnish, adding little bursts of color to the dish.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, crawling forward to examine the plate. The anxiety that had consumed me eased slightly. The fact that she could still get excited about cooking was a good thing, or at least I assumed. I was excellent at breaking people; trying to fix them was new to me.
I handed her the plate and a roll-up of cutlery and settled in next to her, turning on the TV and lining up her show.
She eyed me warily, and I glanced over at her, unsure what to say. I had said what I said, and there was nothing else I could add that would make our immediate reality any better.
“Eat, Lilith. Let’s watch your show.”
“You’re not having any?”
I shrugged, feeling exhausted and anxious. The last thing I wanted to do was eat. I would much rather be in the dungeons taking my rage at Yahweh out on Rafael, but I didn’t trust Lilith enough to leave her alone. “I don’t have much of an appetite. You enjoy.”
I was about to hit play when she rolled onto her knees and sidled up closer to where I was propped on the pillows next to her. She was extra careful not to spill and scooped up some curry with rice, holding it up to me.
“Try some. It’s really good,” she said softly.
“I’m alright, deathtrap,” I said, brushing her off. My stomach was unsettled from how upset she had been at the very thought that she might love me. I may have been a heartless fucking demon, but even I felt sick at the fact that the person I loved more than anything in the world hated that she cared about me… and I had no one to blame but my fucking self.
And Yahweh. I could definitely blame Yahweh.
Lilith sighed, reaching over me to put the plate down carefully on the tray beside the bed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked me, and I failed to repress a dark, joyless laugh.
“You’re asking me what’s wrong?” I croaked, and she looked at me with her tear-stained cheeks and nodded. She was so innocent and fragile, and I had fucking broken her.
“Whatisn’twrong, Lilith? My fucking wife would rather kill herself than be with me. The idea that you could be in love with me disgusts you so much that you just spent the last twenty minutes sobbing in my arms over it. I can’t even get angry or upset about it because I don’t even blame you.
“I’m out of time to convince you to want this. You’re going to ascend into your power tonight and be reunited with your past self, suffer through the trauma ofthosememories, and probably hate me even fucking more for not realizing who you were when Yahweh turned me against you.” I closed my eyes and clenched my fists at my sides, taking a deep breath in through my nose.
“If all that wasn’t enough, the crippling guilt I feel for having been the one to break you, to make you like this, it’sunbearable. Knowing that Yahweh set me up isn’t enough to make it feel okay. I should have known. I should have known, with or without my memories, who you were. There were signs. There were deep-seated feelings and instincts, but I ignored them, and it fucking destroyed you. It destroyedus.”
