36 - lily

                                    

                                          
october 2018 : 1 year and 11 months ago
                          
Lily was lost without her compass. Exiled to an anchorless boat, battered by unrelenting waves that didn't care if she was scared of drowning. 
                          
She tried to pull some sense of direction from her waterlogged mental map, but going to the dorm wasn't an option right now. That tiny room turned into a cage when she was anxious and she wasn't the only one living there who cared about Henry. Katie would worry about him if she found out that he was the reason for Lily's weeping, but she couldn't impart any information to her that would bring his condemnation upon her, too. 
                          
Her fingers stumbled across her phone keyboard to tell Liam she was coming before she pulled out of the parking lot. She was aware that her world was the only one collapsing and that the planet was spinning on as usual for everyone else, but the darkness outside her car felt denser than normal. Sinister, like the inky shadows spawned in the horror movies her friends were binging all month long. 
                          
Driving after dusk always put her on edge. She was never able to fully stop herself from being afraid of it after that day four years ago when she saw the man in the road. Her hands clenched the steering wheel tighter as she looked at the beams of the headlights and was transported back to that night, to how shaken up Henry was after he had to hold her back from running into the road. His face kept making its way back to the front of her mind and she fought to dispel it. She couldn't think about that. Not now. Not on top of everything else that was making her panic.
                          
She kept telling herself to breathe slowly, but her throat was taut with anxiety by the time she finally pulled her car into Liam's driveway after the longest fifteen minutes of her life and flung her door open, the sharp air immediately biting at her damp eyes and cheeks. Her breaths were frantic and shallow as she ran to the porch, half-expecting phantom hands to emerge from the night and grab at her. But then the porch light switched on and she was suddenly blinking its unexpected brightness out of her eyes and flinging herself into the safe pair of arms that had come out to receive her. His warmth and the familiar scent of his cologne enveloped her as she buried her face in his shoulder and started to cry out of both relief and sadness. 
                          
"You're okay," his voice was promising her and her sprinting heart began to slow down slightly. "Deep breaths, Lils. You're okay."
                          
He brought her out of the cold and to the living room couch where she could curl up into him and let her emotions out in harsh, intermittent sobs that hurt her throat. Her eyes were scrunched shut and her face buried against his shirt, but she felt him grab the weighted blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and drape it over her, making sure to cover all the way from her toes to her shoulders. He didn't try to get her to talk for the first couple of minutes while she let it all out. Lily's heart refused to stop feeling like it was breaking over and over again, but being nuzzled up against Liam eased the ache slightly and slowed down the pace at which her frenzied thoughts were flying. He was smart to just tuck her in and let her cry—it was impossible not to start calming down when sandwiched between your boyfriend and a weighted blanket. A comfort burrito. 
                          
Finally, once her cries were reduced to sniffles, he softly asked, "What happened?"
                          
She took a fluttery breath. It wasn't as deep as it needed to be, but it was something. "I, um, I found out some stuff about Henry," she mumbled, her voice thick with shame.
                          
She still wasn't looking at him, so she had no way of knowing if her response was surprising to him or not. 
                          
He hesitantly, gingerly nudged her a little bit further. "What kind of stuff?" 
                          
The words patient reports suicidal intent were there each time she closed her eyes, tattooed on the membrane of her brain. 
                          
"...Really bad mental health stuff," she whispered, unable to make herself elaborate more and not sure if she could make herself spill Henry's secrets no matter how mad she was at him.