Bramblepoint sleep, little darling; do not cry

My daughter.

His daughter.

I'm a daughter?

Missing. Mother dead. Lilitu thought of Arielle, of her son—so angry, but not alone.

Was Arielle alone?

Was she?

Maybe she doesn't wanna be found, she slurred, an uncharacteristic blend of fear and disdain in her voice. Maybe she's sick, like me. Daughter. Missing. Sometimes, that just happens.

Uncle—NO! Not him. Not here.

She won't come back, Lilitu muttered. She was panting slightly, now; her mouth was unbearably dry. God, hot. Thirsty. Anywhere to drink 'round here?

I'll help ya look if you get me water, she added, giving him her own pleading stare.

The edges of things were beginning to tremble and dissolve.

She barely noticed her fangs in his shoulder, in blind retaliation, until she was well away from the man. 

No no no, 

It couldn't have been. 

She

Couldn't

Have

done this