Lily In Graffiti Novels & Stories

Lily's POV: My breath hitched as I stared at the car, my heart hammering in my chest. Slowly, my wide eyes traveled up to the driver’s seat. “What the hell!” I muttered under my breath before slamming my palms against the car’s hood. The driver didn’t respond. Instead, the car reversed a few feet, then sped past me as if nothing had happened. Without thinking, I bent down, grabbed a stone from the pavement, and hurled it at the car’s rear window.

I stayed silent, only to hear Frendo's harsh, scolding voice, "Lena! Is this Marking Ceremony all you care about? We can always hold another ceremony! "Lily was poisoned by Wolfsbane. Her condition worsened, and she came back here for treatment. Why can't you understand that?" Just as I was about to explain, George grabbed the phone and said, "Lena, be reasonable! Lily isn't like you. Her parents are dead, and she's been on her own this whole time. She needs people who care about her, to stay by her side and look after her now. "You understand, right? We'll cancel the ceremony and reschedule it later."

"Before I was so rudely interrupted, note the similar pattern of brushstrokes, and how they mimic mine, but ALSO…" I took out my phone and opened up the camera app. Then I zoomed all the way in on "Lily's" design, while focusing on the part of the crown where a diamond-shaped emerald sat right at the center of the piece. Underneath the light green color of the jewel were lines of a darker shade of green that formed two letters. E.R. When I looked back at Lily, all the color in her face had drained. Suddenly, she was speechless and her hands began to tremble.

Within. Ina. Flash. The rooftop. Ina's heels clicked off the lip of the concrete. Lily's body spun over the city. She'd painted her lips red, her nails black. Vandaulf was behind her, screaming. "Don't you dare!" She spun, wind whipping through her curls. "Why? Scared you won't find your little puppet girl inside of me again?" "I'm scared I'll lose her forever." Her lips curled. "You already did." She leaped.

she said excitedly. “I'm Lily,” the girl continued, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “It’d be an honor to shake your hand but…” She then held up her hands. Her palms were caked with dark soil. “My hands are dirty.” It was then that Gianna noticed the basket hanging from Lily's arm, where there were several more snails in various states of retreat into their shells. Her curiosity must have shown on her face because Lily launched into an explanation without prompting.

"You two nesting in here? Did I lose my business for good?" Quill flinched hard enough to bite his tongue. Hawk dropped him like he'd been electrocuted. Lily stood a few feet away with a coffee in one hand and the deadliest smirk in the city. She didn't wait for permission. Stepped right through the still-fresh mop puddle and kicked a shard of glass across the tile. "Damn," she muttered. "You two smell like you've been humping since dawn. It doesn't smell this strong on event nights."

After a moment of hesitation and thinking of the best way to write it out, I finally typed: Lily is about to become our Luna. I hit send and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

“I don’t like where this is going.” “Relax,” Lily said, uncapping one of the markers. “I’m just going to have a little fun.” Lucas watched her warily but stayed still as she approached. “What kind of fun?” “You’ll see,” Lily replied with a grin. She began writing on Lucas’s chest, her handwriting bold and playful. Across his pecs, she wrote the words: “I’m sorry, I’m a jerk.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork before turning to Liam.

Masks on. Strong again. Lily runs in holding a drawing. Three stick figures. One tall. One with long hair. One small. And a motorcycle. “That’s you,” Lily says to me proudly. My chest tightens. Mara sees it too. Fear flickers in her eyes. Attachment. Evidence. Risk. “You draw fast,” I say evenly. Lily grins. “Uncle Biker stands in front,” she adds. Mara’s eyes close briefly. Just for a second.

Lily Lily stared at the cell wall without truly seeing it. Her long, wavy hair was matted and sweaty, and it itched all of the time. She no longer had the energy to lift her hand to scratch it. She didn’t know how long she’d been stuck there. For the first few days she had scratched a tally into the wall, but as the little lines had grown in number they’d served to make her more melancholy rather than being a reminder of hope.