2019-07-04 - Hell in a Handbasket

Lilith is paying a lot of attention while driving across town to the hospital from her shop on Elm. It's a small town, it should be an easy jaunt, she hasn't died yet, it's going to be fine. She has to keep telling herself it's going to be fine because she's had a lot of near misses while driving lately. The back of her long term rental SUV is smashed with dent already, though. What's one more? Better than denting herself all up. Maybe when it happens it will just be a mailbox or a flat tire. Because something is going to happen. She's resigned to that.

It's been four days since she touched the gem. Or has it been longer? Has it been less? She can't tell anymore. There's just a point where you start to crack and details like this are neglected and forgotten. It seems like it's been ages. How many days can she last? It doesn't help that she feels soul sapped on the inside and beaten on the outside while everything goes wrong, at uncanny length, end over end. Lilith is sometimes pretty good at managing and powering through. It's not like much in her life is a particular bout of sunshine. You get used to that. But now? The managing is harder and she's not entirely sure how she hasn't had a sobbing meltdown on a floor somewhere with sheer frustration and stress fatigue cracking her from the core.

Lilith is afraid of being a contagion. She takes the consequences, because they're hers. She did what she did and it felt like everything in that moment. Now this is her everything, so many pieces of hell in a handbasket. Normal people would reach out when they feel they can't handle anymore, but she told Byron and Tobin the details they needed a few days ago and saved the lumps for herself. They had lives before she came back, they had jobs, they had people and... heh, there's a girlfriend kicking around too, apparently. That would have been nice to know before she went and had hopeful idiot thoughts and feelings. Or you know, cuddly slumber parties.

In fact, now that she's thinking about it, she can't help but seethe a little. The brunette stops at a stop sign an overlong time, turns a corner, and considers how she put so much on the table in the name of disclosure and... she knows nothing in trade. The fact that she didn't know feels like a deliberate omission, almost, in retrospect. But whatever. There's other more pressing things to be butthurt about in bulk and she knows better now. Lilith has been taking care of herself since her she can remember, there was no caretaker at home. One of her first memories is crawling on a stool to teach herself how to work the stove so she could make soup hot. Hank had been gone more than a whole day and she was four years old.

Lilith is a goddamn woman, not a princess or child to be minded. She's going to be tough and she's not going to go calling for comfort. Besides, who the hell is she to impose?

While the woman is driving, she makes a mental list that she knows isn't comprehensive. There's plenty of small things she's forgotten or left out en masse. She's just going to call all of those things one big miscellaneous for the sake of compressing. Honestly, Lilith should think about something else, but it's getting to the point where she's morbidly fascinated with trying to enumerate occurrences to occupy herself out of crying or screaming in the downtime. Besides. Does she have anything good to really think about right now? You get used to alternate mental methods to occupy when you don't have a lot of silver lining for the better.

The List
*Fall through glass case, gash knee, three stitches
*Hank beaten to incapacitated for mystery reasons
*Fell down loft staircase
*Hot water pilot goes out mid-shower for an icy finish
*Missing money from register after temp agency cashier leaves
*Purse stolen in hospital lobby
*SUV backed into in hospital parking lot
*Lump on head, office desk
*Lump on head, cabinet door
*Lump on head, fell out of bed sleeping, nightstand corner
*Fell up loft staircase
*Broken kitchen pipes
*Smashed a turtle driving (surely more bad luck when it haunts me)
*Personal bank account has fraud activity, cancel card
*Credit card has fraud activity, cancel card
*Fell down loft stairs again
*Burn self while cooking
*Drop entire pan to shatter after cooking
*Lump on head, falling shelf item
*Miscellaneous FML moments

Lilith is almost there. Hank's finally up and talking at the hospital and not in a morphine haze anymore. And she has questions for him about how he ended up so badly off, given the timing. He's been beat up plenty, but this one was bad. And that man. The case. The words. The timing. She has questions. She's almost there. She's passing the park.

There's a dog moseying the road ahead around a bend. Her phone chimes with text right before. She picks it up for a glance.

Lilith slams her brakes but it's not enough. She was distracted and speeding. She swerves, avoids the dog, is threatened by an oncoming car in the opposite direction. She swerves again hard in panic. Her reflexes are off, she's so tired, pressed heavy on the outside, thin from the inside. She avoids the dog and she avoids the car.

She doesn't avoid the tree at the edge of the park. The impact is loud and everything is split second fast and likewise slow motion.

Her phone flies into the floorboard as the front end crushes, straight out of her hand. The number is unknown, but that doesn't matter-- the message indicates the sender. Her heartbeat ticks with realization and her gut twists sick before everything goes black.

Unknown Number: You don't know what you want. I can show you. I can make it all go away. You'll see.

Her body is fireworks and explosions. Her sight is dark. Everything is thick and she wants to drown in the waves.

Everything is wrong. Unconsciousness feels like a win.

Through it, Lilith is dimly aware of a car horn stuck on blow and it sounds so very far away.