Edens Dream

Chpt.2

The drive back to his dingy motel room was a blur for Adam. Lilith's image filled his mind – her strength, the way she carried herself after everything she'd been through. He knew snippets of her past – the abusive father, the predatory producer – thanks to hushed conversations with his father, always sworn to secrecy.

To some, her past might be a burden, but for Adam, it only amplified her beauty. It was that strength, that resilience, that fueled his songwriting. All those love songs, subtly disguised odes to her, poured from his heart. Everyone at the bar knew it, really. A new song every time they hung out, his gaze inevitably drawn to her during his sets.

He fantasized about serenading her on stage, their voices melding in perfect harmony. But the scars of that producer and the abusive ex who reappeared on whims, kept her locked away. On nights he knew she was with the ex, Adam found solace in Eve.

They shared a strange intimacy, a twisted echo of what he felt for Lilith. He'd even considered leaving Lilith behind, "saving" Eve from herself. Dates that started promising, showcasing genuine affection, would invariably spiral into crass jokes or gestures, reminding him it was all transactional.

Adam’s own past, though not as dramatic, held its own weight. His parents' divorce, fueled by their conflicting visions for the bar, had left him caught in the middle. Separate finances and a clean break hid the simmering resentment. Each drop-off for shared custody felt laced with tension, a secret competition of who'd "made it" more.

Despite two loving parents, he'd craved their undivided attention, a yearning that only deepened with their quiet battles. Music became his refuge. It blossomed into a passion, a voice that resonated with people. Then Lilith walked in, a broken soul with a captivating beauty. He'd seen it even when she couldn't.

That first song, born from the inspiration of Lilith, had opened the floodgates. Producers swarmed, promises of fame dangling like glittering carrots. Adam, swept away, signed on the dotted line, his music turning formulaic. But the dream soured, the producer vanishing without a trace.

The blow was brutal. Music, his solace, had become a painful reminder of failure. He drowned his sorrows, his usually sunny disposition replaced by a forced cheer. Only at the bar, with Lilith, or in a shared bed with Eve, did the facade slip.

Adam shoved thoughts of his parents and Eve aside as he rummaged through his suitcase. He pulled out a worn spiral notebook, his most prized possession. It held the raw, unfiltered versions of his songs – tales of parents, fleeting connections, and a love that burned brighter than anything else. He placed the notebook on the bed in front of his guitar, the familiar wood a comfort in his hands. He began to tune, humming a melody that had been swirling in his head for days. Tonight, he wouldn't sugarcoat it. Tonight, the song would be for Lilith, a heartfelt confession laid bare. 

He strummed the opening chords, his voice raw with emotion as he sang the chorus:

>Dark as night, her spirit bold,

A bartender with stories untold.

Her heart, a cynic's fortress strong,

Yet in her eyes, a silent song.

>She pours the drinks with practiced grace,

Hiding scars etched upon her face.

But in the shadows of the bar,

She dreams of love beneath a star.

>Oh, dark-skinned beauty, cynical heart,

In your arms, I long to play my part.

Though you may push, you may deny,

In your love, I see my sky.

A bittersweet smile played on his lips. The lyrics echoed his deepest desires. Freedom. Peace. Lilith. He envisioned her in his arms, a stark contrast to the tangled mess that was Eve. He could almost feel the weight lifting from his shoulders as he strummed the final chord. He'd finish the song by the weekend's open mic night. Maybe then, he'd finally have the courage to sing it to her.

Lilith was rinsing the last of the dishes when the back door creaked open. The bar was dark, signaling its closure, but curiosity gnawed at her. She dried her hands and cautiously pushed open the swinging kitchen doors. The dim moonlight cast long shadows across the bar stools, but Lilith saw no one. Just as she reached for the light switch, a hand clamped over her mouth, a sickeningly familiar cologne filling her nostrils. Panic surged through her, followed by a cold dread that settled deep in her stomach.

"Missed you, darling," a voice purred in her ear, the deep baritone laced with a dangerous edge. Shame washed over her as the voice, despite its evil, still sent a shiver down to her core which shamed her deeply. "Know why I'm here? You've been a hard woman to track down. Changed your number, have you? Funny, I know everything about you – your work, your little musician friend, even the drunken ramblings about a book."

He savored the fear in her eyes as he slid a hand down her back, snatching her phone before the light switch clicked on.  A cruel smile stretched across his face. "Predictable, aren't you? Still using that fool's name as your password?" He chuckled as Lilith's phone unlocked with the name "Adam."  With practiced ease, he unblocked his own number and shoved the phone back in her pocket. "This weekend, darling. A little social gathering.  A dress will be delivered to your apartment. You'll wear it with a smile, or both you and your little musician friend will pay the price. Understood?"

Lilith could only manage a terrified nod. 

"Good girl," he rasped, his touch harsh as he forced a kiss upon her. He vanished as quickly as he arrived, leaving Lilith clinging to the wall, her heart a frantic drum in her chest. Hatred and despair intertwined as she whispered the name that sent chills down her spine: Lucifer. 

Lilith sprinted upstairs, slamming her apartment door shut. Panic fueled her movements as she bolted around to the windows, checking locks with trembling hands. A semblance of safety secured, she dialed the only number that offered solace – Adam's.

At 1:52 AM, the phone's insistent trill ripped through Adam's sleep. "Hello, Lilith?" he mumbled, grogginess thick in his voice. "It's...eight till two..."

A choked sob shattered the silence. Sleep vanished in an instant. Adam was out of bed, throwing on pajama bottoms before he even hung up.

Lilith was a crumpled mess on the couch, wracked with sobs when the pounding on her door startled her. Fear spiked, visions of Lucifer returning. But then she remembered Adam. Scrambling to the door, she flung it open.

The sight that greeted Adam stole his breath. Lilith, the woman who faced down drunken brawls with icy stares, was a broken doll. He swept her into his arms without a word, her sobs muffling against his chest.

Gently, he guided her back to the couch, settling beside her. "What happened, Lils?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm.

It took time, but eventually, choked words spilled out. "He...was...here. Held...me...kissed..." Her voice trailed off, replaced by a fresh wave of tears as she buried her face in his chest.

Adam knew. Lucifer. Lilith's monstrous ex. Briefly, he relived the stories – the whirlwind romance, the descent into darkness, the scars left behind. Unlike before, Lilith hadn't masked her pain. Relief battled with anger in Adam's chest.

As much as he craved more, he wouldn't exploit her vulnerability. He wasn't Lucifer. So they sat, a quiet comfort in the darkness, until Lilith's sobs subsided into sleep.

With a tenderness that surprised even himself, Adam scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed. Tucking her in, he marveled at her peaceful slumber. In a moment of courage, he leaned down, a soft kiss brushing her cheek. A ghost of a smile played on Lilith's lips. Uncertain what else to do, Adam grabbed a spare blanket and settled on the couch, a silent guardian until sleep claimed him too.