Le's Soldier

Part 28

lilly didn't mean to slam the door.

But the sound ripped through the house anyway — sharp, violent, final — and she flinched as soon as it happened, like she'd punched something solid and realised too late it would punch back.

Her chest was already tight. Too tight. Breathing felt like trying to inhale through a closed fist.

She stood on the front step for half a second, hand still clenched, forehead pressed briefly against the cold wood. The house was quiet behind her now. Too quiet.

Leah.

The word alone made her throat burn.

She could still see Leah's face — the way her eyes had filled, the way her voice had cracked when she said I don't know if love is enough. Lilly hadn't meant to say what she said after that. She hadn't meant to go cold. She hadn't meant to look like she didn't care.

But panic had done what panic always did.

It had taken over.

If she stayed, she would beg.
If she stayed, she would break.
If she stayed, Leah would see exactly how shattered she really was.

And if Leah saw that...

Lilly's stomach twisted violently.

She'll leave.

The thought slammed into her like a physical blow.

She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and started walking. Fast. Almost running. Not looking back because if she did, she knew she'd turn around — and she didn't trust herself not to collapse at Leah's feet.

The streetlights blurred as her eyes burned.

You're losing her.

Her phone buzzed.

She ignored it.

Another buzz.

Ignored.

Her mind wouldn't shut up.

You're too much.
You always are.
That's why everyone leaves.

The memories didn't come gently. They never did.

Her stepdad's voice.
Her mother's silence.
The way the house felt after — like it didn't belong to her anymore.

She swallowed hard and walked faster.

If you were better, it wouldn't have happened.
If you were quieter.
If you were worth loving.

Her jaw clenched until it ached.

By the time she reached the pub, her hands were shaking so badly she barely managed to open the door.

The noise hit her immediately.

Music too loud. Laughter too sharp. The smell of beer and sweat and fried food heavy in the air.

Good.

She wanted it loud. She wanted it overwhelming. She wanted anything that wasn't her own thoughts.

She went straight to the bar.

"Whisky," she said, voice flat. "Neat."

The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

The first burn down her throat was brutal.

She welcomed it.

She drank too fast. Ordered another. Then another. Didn't bother pacing herself. Didn't bother caring.