Lillia threw herself out the window — not from the mayor’s office, that was way too high, the lower floor’s windows were much nicer for a daring escape. Escape? Was she escaping? Her mind allowed no questions, her body moved without direction. Get home. Find Nan. That’s all she thought, it’s all she could think. All she wanted to think. And if that failed, Lillia remembered where she had left the gun.

She scrambled to her feet and rushed around the building, heading back through the town centre. She passed the elderly protestors, and for a second, caught their glance. Their mouths gaped. They looked away. Lillia kept on running. Her lip quivered, limbs feeling like jelly, her eyes bulged out of her head. Her feet slammed against the brick pavement. Shit the pavement.

A brick, jutting obnoxiously outwards, caught her foot. She fell, reaching out to break the fall. The world span, her arms and feet throbbed. Nausea set in. Don’t stop. Lillia sprung to her feet, staggering, then sprinted once more. Eyes locked onto her, judgemental, but she just looked straight ahead. Nothing else mattered. Not the pain, not the sinking in her chest, nothing. Her right foot — the one that caught the pavement — screamed, begging her to stop. I can’t… Her sprint turned into a fast limp, speed escaping with each step. Lillia saw a turn ahead. She took it. Getting off the main road … she should’ve done that earlier.

“Fuck!” She hissed to herself. “Don’t let them find you. Don’t let them find you.”

Herafel’s police force was hardly anything to fear. One or two officers at most patrolled the whole town, and they only did that for a couple hours. Lillia had confidence she’d make it home, though part of her felt like, of all the days, this would be the one where fifty officers are wandering around the town. What if there were? I’ll kill them. The thought came instantly, not a single ounce of hesitation. That … scared her.

Is this who she is now? A killer? Kill one man in a fit of rage and suddenly she could kill anyone? Is that who you want to be? Lillia stopped. She breathed rapidly and heavily. Her eyes refused to blink, wanting to see for themselves if this was reality. She brought her hands to her eyes. The blood stained her skin, it splattered on her clothes too. There was no escape. This was reality.

Night crept over the town. Black and silent. The air cooled, though still suffocated any who breathed it. The wind brushed through Lillia’s hair. Refreshing. She hobbled around another corner and breathed a sigh of relief. Her street. She sighed. She'll be home soon, but the night will go on. Murders tend to not go unnoticed. 

Was it really murder? Lillia wasn’t sure whether that thought was genuine or sarcastic. It didn’t feel like murder to her, though then again she didn’t know what murder felt like. All she saw of that moment in her mind was a blur of red and screams, but she recalled the feelings. The warmth of the blood, the knife digging through his clothes and into his skin, the fear in the mayor’s eyes. Yes. That terror. It warmed Lillia’s heart, seeing him that afraid. But that was the outlier, everything else made her gag and throw up — made her wallow in despair and shock. What is wrong with me?

She stumbled through the door.

The living room was more empty than she expected, only her nan sat in the tatty armchair, reading the newspaper. Suspiciously, the chair faced the door, as if she had been expecting Lillia to come barging in.

“Nan,” Lillia gasped, “please under—”

“I know.” She gazed up from the newspaper, only revealing her eyes. “Everyone knows by now, I’d assume. Sit.”

Uneased, Lillia did as she was told, sitting on the less than bouncy sofa. Her nan’s eyes did not leave her — only a slight glance down at the red on her clothes.

Rosemarie placed the paper on the arm of the chair. Her full expression; no more pleasant than her glare. “What were you thinking?”

“I-I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?” Her nan bellowed, “so you’re telling me you killed the mayor of this town and you don’t know why?”

“All I remember is everything going red!” Lillia whined, clasping the side of her head with her hands, fighting back tears. “I got so angry! He—he made me angry.”

Rosemarie shook her head. “Everyone gets angry, Lillia, and we don’t all kill someone when we do.”

“I couldn’t control myself!”

“That’s convenient!”

“It’s true! He said such horrible things about me, about Thalia, about everyone who lives here. He belittled me, mocked me, and laughed as he did it!”

“Really?” Rosemarie sighed. She shifted in her chair, resting her bony arms on her knees and her head on her hands. Still, her gaze remained on Lillia. “That’s it? Are you absolutely sure that you didn’t want to kill him?”

“W-what?”

“Are you sure that somewhere, deep down, there was no desire to kill him? You didn’t go into that building with that intention? Lying to yourself about how you’re just going to talk, when really, what you actually wanted was to make sure he never spoke again?”

“What are you saying?” Lillia burst into tears. “Of course I only wanted to talk! I didn’t mean to — or want to kill him! If he had helped me, even the slightest amount, I would’ve just left!” They streamed down her face, dripping onto the sofa, leaving damp darker spots in the fabric. “I just wanted to help Thalia! That truly is all I wanted to do! Why are you saying this stuff? It’s horrible. I get you’re angry with me, but isn’t that a bit far?”

“No, Lillia,” her nan said softly, “you don’t understand.” She tapped the half covered radio. “It was on the radio—”

“That thing still works?” Lillia wiped the tears from her face.

“Listen, Lillia!” Her nan stood and walked over to her. “I told your mother to go do some shopping, leave the house for a bit.” Rosemarie stopped and sighed, kneeling in front of her. “No doubt the authorities already know, they’ll be on their way.” She nodded to the door. “Any moment now. We don’t have much time.”

“For what?” Lillia screamed, “I don’t understand, this is all so confusing!”

Her nan stood up, turning her back to her granddaughter. “You found my gun this morning, I take it?”

“Huh?”

How was her nan so composed? Lillia had prepared for being yelled at, disowned, tossed aside, but this? What the fuck was happening?

“You will have to make a choice, Lillia,” her nan bellowed, with pure seriousness. She moved to open the basement door. “You can wait here for the police, let them take you. Spend the rest of your life inside a much tinier cage. Or…”

The door creaked open. The damp smell rushed into the living room. Lillia swallowed. 

“You can keep going. Take the gun, the wretched path, and come with me to Lisabethium.”

“What would we do in Lisabethium?” Lillia laughed in madness. “Are you okay, nan? Do you even hear yourself?”

Rosemarie nodded. “You’ve taken the first step, Lillia.”

Realisation shot down her spine. The first step. Dots connected, gears turned. Lillia got to her feet. She glanced at the front door, then, the steps to the basement. Wait or go. She looked at her nan.

“Do you want me to…” Conviction resounded in Lillia’s voice. “…cause a revolution?”

Rosemarie flexed her fingers. “Hm … not exactly. I don’t want you to do anything. I want you to live a good, peaceful life. But now that will never be possible.” She placed her hands on Lillia’s shoulders. “I don’t like that you killed the mayor — actually, I’m still processing that fact. But I know you. I’ve raised you since you were a little soul. You would never want to hurt anybody. So for you to do that; to hurt people and kill someone, you must have believed it would make others feel better — you must have done it to make them realise the pain they so casually inflict, right?”

Lillia didn’t know how to respond. Her nans words sounded true, but were they? In that moment, did she really think that? Did she think anything at all?

“I … don’t know.”

Her nan nodded slowly. “Oh, well, you’re my grandchild. Whatever you do, whatever you decide, I will always stand by your side.”

Rosemarie contorted her face into a smile. Lillia’s shoulders loosened, shedding a ton of weight. For a brief moment, the air wasn’t suffocating. For a single moment, there was peace, a calm, right before plummeting off a cliff or offering yourself to the wolves.

Four destructive knocks vibrated the door. Fear was injected back into Lillia’s heart. Shouting followed, demands. They pounded the door again, nearly sending it flying off its hinges. The shouting got louder. Rosemarie put herself between the storm outside and Lillia. She looked at her dead in the eyes and nodded.

Choose.