I know it's a little late, but it took me this long to convince Lillith to go get some sleep.
I got here around two pm this afternoon. The house looks as though no one's lived in it for a while - you could hear a pin drop the silence was so pronounced. Dust everywhere, everything all perfectly arranged - it was kind of eerie, I must admit.
Anyway, I checked on Lillith's parents when I first arrived. They're fine - they said hello in their empty, robotic voices and continued eating their lunch. They seem to be recovering slightly - which is good.
It's about a thousand steps away from Lillith, that's for sure.
I found her in the living room, staring into the backyard. She looks utterly terrible, and I mean that. Her hair is all ragged and greasy - and I swear parts of it are falling out. She's wearing the same clothes I last saw her in - which was over a month ago. Not to insult her, but she smells awful; it's obvious she hasn't showered or done anything of the sort for weeks.
It took me four hours to convince her to get a shower. I had to help her shower - I had to help a 22-year old woman shower herself and get cleaned up. It's not that she didn't know how - she just didn't care. She even told me straight up, "why bother? The Weaver will come and nothing will matter. It's just like Robert, Smith*(Not my real name, but I'm not putting that in here.) - we can try to save them, but nothing."
After that, I sat her down at the kitchen table and questioned her gently.
Most of it she refused to say anything, but there were a few parts that I remembered that I had to write down;
Me: Lillith, honey, I'm trying to help you. I know what this is - what's going on here..
Lillith: That's the thing. You don't know - no one does. I tried to warn you all when he first started coming to me, but no one would listen. You would say it was in my head, that I was imagining things - well, it is in my head, all the time - but it's not imaginary.
It's voice calls to me. It's beautiful melody of malevolence. I know what Robert felt near the end.
Me: What do you mean? What does it say?
Lillith: you can't understand, Smith. No one can - not even me. But the pain it causes me to even look at it, to be around it - to hear it in my head, all the time. The notebook -
Me: I know. Robert told me that they help. Do they?
Lillith: Yeah. They do - I only could hold out for a few days before I started writing. And when I write - it's almost as if his voice flows onto the paper. It makes the headaches stop - it makes me not sick to my stomach. It makes my nose stop bleeding.
Me: What does it do? I have the headaches, but...
Lillith: (At this point, she looked up right at me and her eyes...they were almost alight with intensity.) It's not ready for you yet, Smith. It still has to finish with me.
Me: I won't let it. I don't care.
Lillith: You're sweet, hun - maybe that's why I still care about you - but you can't stop it. No one can; Robert thought he could, but he failed. I see him more and more in my eyes now - not in the corners or as fleeting ghost images, but always now. And he's getting closer.
Me: ...Okay, Lillith. Why do you call it The Weaver?
Lillith: The dreams.
Me: I've had them. The dreams are -
Lillith: Fucked up, aren't they? (She laughed nervously) - When I first started having them, they didn't make sense. But as he draws closer to you, they get more clear. He weaves your dreams. The Weaver. It makes sense.
Me: I...see. Where is your notebook, Lillith?
Lillith: Can't tell you. Not yet - if I tell you, then he will be mad. And I can't have that yet, Smith - when he's angry, he takes you...makes you do things. Things I can't remember.
Me: It's okay, Lillith. Thanks for telling me.
So, he's interested in me, but not until he's done with Lillith?
Well, mr Weaver - fuck you.
Fuck you and whatever dimensional or Biblical train you rode in on.