Talk To Me

Chapter Fifteen

Present

Leah whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible. "Lily, Lily, Lily..."

A cold, swirling sensation wrapped around her body, pulling her from one place to another. The moment she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in a dimly lit, grimy bathroom. Water dripped from a leaky faucet, the sound echoing through the small space like a metronome of despair.

Her stomach twisted. There—huddled against the cracked white tiles—was Lily.

Leah's breath hitched at the sight of her friend. Lily's wrists were cuffed to the rusted faucet, the metal biting into her pale skin. Her head lounged to the side, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp face and the dirty wall behind her.

Leah crouched down, reaching out with a trembling hand. "Lily," she whispered urgently, her fingers hovering just above the girl's cheek. "Honey, can you see me?"

Lily's lifeless eyes stared straight ahead, unfocused. Her lips moved, but the words spilling from them were nothing more than hushed nonsense. It was as if Leah wasn't even there. Instead, Lily's vacant gaze remained locked onto the golden doorknob across the room.

"No-more, no-more," she mumbled, her voice raw, her head shifting slightly against the tiles in a slow, repetitive motion.

Leah's chest tightened as she examined Lily's pupils—nothing but wide black voids, swallowing any trace of green. Her stomach clenched. "Shit."

Lily continued her incoherent murmurs, but the sudden sound of voices outside the bathroom made Leah freeze. Two men. She had no time to waste. Leah pressed her lips together and phased through the bathroom door. The voices became clearer in the cramped hallway.

"I don't wanna stay here alone!" Diesel's voice, rough with frustration, carried into the space. Leah moved toward the living area, keeping herself steady despite the lingering weight of dread in her gut.

The trash-strewn trailer reeked of cigarettes, stale beer, and something worse—something rotting beneath the surface of it all. Tiny lounged in a worn-out leather armchair, lazily dragging on a cigarette, while Diesel stood nearby, arms crossed tight over his chest.

Tiny exhaled a slow plume of smoke before flicking ash into the overflowing tray beside him. "Look, man, I'll stay some other time. There's no point in both of us rotting in this shithole." He ground the cigarette butt into the glass ashtray and leaned back. "I need a break—from this place. From you."

Diesel scoffed. "You don't think I want a break?!" His voice rasped with barely restrained anger. He jabbed a finger toward the flickering TV screen. A blurry news report played, Lily's photo plastered on the screen. "No one wants her. She's all over the goddamn news. We need to get rid of her. And get the fuck out of Dover."

Tiny hesitated, his jaw tightening. "But Dover is my home. I don't wanna leave."

"Cassie left," Diesel shot back. "And we should too. Can't you see this isn't working out?" His arms flung outward in frustration. "Do you wanna go to jail? 'Cause I sure as hell don't. I'm telling you, we need to disappear."

Tiny exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. I'll think about it. But for now, I'm crashing at my mom's place."

Diesel let out a bitter laugh, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Great. And what about the girl?"

Tiny stretched his arms as he stood up. "We'll deal with her if we decide to leave. Until then... you can have your fun."

Diesel frowned. "I'm not in the mood."