Lily's parents spoke quietly between themselves for what felt like an eternity before turning back to me. They agreed — though hesitantly — to help. It wasn't as easy as I hoped; there were papers to file, signatures to gather, people to convince.
They went through the long, dragging process of paperwork, with me signing document after document, pretending not to notice the pity that flickered in their eyes every time they looked at me. They needed witnesses, so they visited my neighborhood. The old neighbors didn't hesitate to talk — about my uncle's drunken fits, his shouting, the strange bruises I used to have. They painted a perfect picture, one that worked entirely in my favor.
Who told him not to be kind to his neighbors?
It took them a week — one full week of hospital meals, fake smiles, and sleepless nights — before everything was done. By the time I was discharged, my uncle, Luke — Taylor's brother — no longer had any legal right over me.
I stayed with the Whales for another week. Lily wouldn't let me leave her side, and when it came time for me to be registered into a boarding school, she somehow convinced her parents to register her too.
And so, my new life began — or at least, that's what they all thought.
I offered to pay my own school fees, but they refused — even though they knew I had something, my bank card, my investments.
I've never met anyone so foolishly kind before.
True to their word, they placed me and Lily into one of the best high schools. But even though we attended the same school, we weren't allowed to share a room — courtesy of the principal. It was perfect. I needed space — to breathe, to think, to feel again, to untangle all that had happened.
It didn't take long for us to settle in. Lily and I shared classes, but our dorms were separate. She was sad about it; I wasn't. Still, we made it work — or maybe she made it work.
Lily took her role as my best friend to a new level. After classes, she followed me to lunch, walked me to the library, waited outside my study sessions. She hovered — always there, like a shadow stitched to my heels. Her kindness should have comforted me, but instead, it started to suffocate me.
Don't get me wrong, I love her. But I need space. I need silence — my own kind of peace. The only time I ever get that is at night, when the dorm lights go out and the world quiets.
Even if the nightmares return, the darkness feels safer than anyone's company.
And for that, in a strange way... I guess I should thank Lily.