FIFTEEN

LILY’s POV

I am in the backseat of a luxurious sedan. The seats are black and leathered and the interiors are immaculately spotless; there is air conditioning and a heating system too. I have never been in a sedan before. Father and I used to dream about sitting in a car such as this; we would sit on a grassy spot under a shady tree at the top of the hill of our little village and he would tell me stories of the great vehicles that only the rich and powerful possessed and I would often wonder what it would feel like to be in one.

Now I know. It feels like death.

I feel no joy in being enveloped by such luxury and as the car gently hums along the rocky road that leads up a winding hill, I lean my weary head against the tinted window, not particularly focusing on anything that whizzes by the window.

I look, but I do not see. I breathe, but I am smothered. I touch, but I cannot feel. I cannot do anything. I cannot even cry. The ab