Numb is easy. Numb requires no emotions. No thinking. An occasional breath. Just open wide for a probing tongue and the numbness comes.

I’m a popular object …

Lilith lies back on the couch between Regina and Ron Ley.

Ron is tall. Ron is a senior. Ron plays varsity basketball and runs track.

Ron is white. Ron is cool.

Ron is horny. Lilith can feel his erection every time he leans over to steal a kiss.

‘Lilith, finish my beer.’

No more beer. More beer means throwing up, and throwing up makes the headaches come back.

Lilith takes the beer from Ron and drains it.

Ron likes me. Ron thinks I’m cool. Jacob will be so jealous.

Regina passes out on Lilith’s lap.

Across the smoke-filled room, Dante Adams drains his beer. Dante has been eyeing Lilith for hours.

Dante is horny.

Dante is a predator.

Ron kisses Lilith again. Squeezes her breasts way too hard, then takes her hand and leads her into the nearest bedroom.

Don’t do this, Lilith! She tries to pull away, but all resistance is gone.

So you’re dumb. Just be numb. At least you’re cool.

Dante follows them inside.

‘Don’t—’

‘Come on, baby—’

‘No … Ron, please don’t—’

‘I don’t like being teased.’

‘I wasn’t teasing.’

‘Fine. If you won’t let me put it in you, then just suck it.’

Brandy appears over Ron’s shoulder. Just do it. It’s easier than fighting him.

Lilith opens her mouth. Inhales a whiff of his manhood. Chokes back a gag reflex, then pukes all over Ron’s basketball sneakers.

‘Ugh … you stupid bitch!’ Ron slaps her hard across the face.

Too wasted to feel the pain and too high to locate the nexus, Lilith squeezes her eyes shut and sucks on the blood oozing from her lower lip.

Dante moves closer. ‘I’ll spread her legs. You do her first … then it’s my turn.’

6:15 a.m.

Lilith staggers home just before sunrise. Her lower lip is swollen, her cheek bruised. Her shirt is torn. She is missing her shoes.

Lilith is no longer numb.

Lilith is sober.

Lilith is ready to die.

She sneaks around back and enters the kitchen. Hears Quenton snoring.

Quietly, she roots through a kitchen drawer. Locates the steak knife.

She enters Quenton’s bedroom. Sees the old man passed out on the floor. Enters the master bathroom. Stares at the tub and the razor blades lined up in the soap dish. Contemplates. Decides against running the bathwater for fear of waking her grandfather.

Lilith enters the walk-in closet. Tugs on the dangling ceiling chain, retracting the wooden step-ladder from the attic. Climbs up into the crawl space, searching for solitude.

Lilith hates the attic. As a four-year-old, Lilith feared the attic.

This morning, the attic is a refuge, a point of no return.

Dawn shines in from the cracked hexagon of glass.