𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖓 ✧ 𝔐𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔩 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔫

𝔚𝔥𝔬 𝔦𝔰 𝔖𝔥𝔢?

♦

Lilith stood before her bathroom mirror, the soft glow of the vanity lights casting a warm aura around her. As her fingers brushed over the fabric of her dress, her gaze lingered on her reflection. There was something in her gaze, a hint of distance that tugged at her consciousness, but she couldn't quite grasp it. Her reflection seemed almost like a different person, a stranger staring back at her from the glass.

Lilith gracefully reached for a vibrant red lipstick, skillfully applying it to her lips and ensuring maximum coverage. Without hesitation, she raised the lipstick and marked the mirror, creating devil horns perfectly aligned with the crown of her head. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she set the lipstick down.

Lilith swung her purse over her shoulder, its strap resting comfortably against her. The soft click of her heels echoed into the hallway as she made her way to the kitchen. The sharp, clean scent of bleach pervaded the air.

Nyx was vigorously scrubbing a countertop when she entered. Lilith arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile as she observed her sister's unusually energetic cleaning spree.

"You're cleaning?" Lilith questioned as she settled onto a bar stool at the island in the center of the kitchen. The smell of bleach was invigorating but also a tad overwhelming.

Nyx continued scrubbing, seemingly attempting to keep her mind occupied. "This place is a mess, dust everywhere. How did I not notice it got this bad?"

Lilith leaned casually on her elbows. "Alright, what's on your mind? You only tweaker clean when you're stressed."

Nyx paused in her cleaning, her eyes flicking briefly to her sister before she took a towel and wiped off the chemicals. "It's stupid."

"Oh, bullshit," Lilith scoffed. "Spill."

Nyx moved to stand on the opposite side of the island, taking a moment before speaking. "I just... haven't heard from him since Mom's funeral."

Lilith's expression softened with understanding. She knew exactly who Nyx was referring to but asked anyway. "Josiah?" Nyx shot her a warning look. "I'm sure he's just busy, Nyxie. He has the Antichrist as a brother. You can't really blame him for not replying."

Nyx sighed, her frustration evident. "How are you so calm about this? They're both off galivanting to bring the end times."

"Oh, please," Lilith waved a dismissive hand. "I just don't think there's any point in freaking out about things out of your control."

Nyx, however, was not so easily consoled. "There has to be something we can do."

"I genuinely don't care at this point anymore," Lilith confessed, her voice carrying a tone of indifference. "Humanity is a cesspool of shit. Maybe he's doing the world a favor."

"You sound like Mom," Nyx remarked, appalled at her sister's attitude, crossing her arms defiantly. "You've become an entirely different person since the ritual. Since Michael."

Lilith shrugged nonchalantly, her tone tinged with irritation. "I could say the same thing about you with Josiah if you really want to go there."

Nyx seemed ready to fire back, growing more agitated as the energy in the room intensified. However, Lilith quickly shut her down as she rose to her feet, hands on the counter for support, bitterness seeping into her voice.

"No, Nyx. Did it ever occur to you that I don't feel the need to pretend anymore?" Lilith's words cut through the charged atmosphere, her tone tinged with frustration. "I was exhausted trying to earn Dad's approval, just like you were desperate for Mom's. But he's not here, and neither is she. So, forgive me for finally feeling okay enough to exist."