~(of hair) fair or pale yellow.~

[Heavily unedited]

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         Lillian woke up with a startled gasp. She felt the beads of sweat making way down her neck, the grunts escaping her scratchy and dry throat. Her hands clutched the duvet tightly, her back moving to rest against the headboard.

"Lillian?"

Raymond lifted his hands to rub against his eyes, a yawn escaping his mouth. "What's wrong?", he asked.

Lillian brought her knees to her chest and bent her head. Her sobs filled the room and Raymond could hear her soft mutters. He placed his hands on Lillian's shoulder and shook slightly. "Lillian, what's wrong? Was it a nightmare?"

She only sobbed louder.

Raymond's confused face could be seen in the barely lit room. He pushed his hands against the mattress and groaned as he slowly got up. He felt his knees buckle slightly and he rested one of his hands against the headboard. Huffing, he let out a loud breath and started walking blindly. He chanted the numbers in his head, making sure to put less effort on his knees. Halfway across the room, Lillian cried loudly, as though she was in pain. Raymond turned his head towards her, meeting her crumpled up form, the duvet wet with her tears, the strap of her gown, slipping because of her sobbing shoulders. He sighed and walked towards the door; stretching his hands to feel the cool door knob. Once he felt it, he pulled it open.

"I don't know what's wrong with Lillian anymore." Raymond muttered to himself. He snorted quietly. "It would be ironic if she has to go see a psychiatrist"

Making his way to the kitchen, he ran his hands against his bald head, his eyelids opening in protest. Raymond reached into the fridge, grabbing the jug of milk and shutting it quietly.

"How could Lillian forgive Madeline?", he asked himself. He shook his head and grunted. "After what that brat did, after what she claimed not to do?"

He clenched his teeth in anger and frustration, reaching into the cupboards to grab a glass. He poured the milk slowly, hands tight against the cup, picturing Madeline's neck.

"She should be lucky I didn't get my hands on her"

"Who should be lucky?"

Raymond stumbled, the milk pouring over the kitchen table, missing the glass by inches. He smiled as he turned to face Lillian. "No one"

Lillian's brows furrowed in confusion.

Raymond walked towards her, hands holding the glass of milk, outstretched. "Here. Take this"

Lillian smiled politely as she shook her head. "No, thank you."

Raymond frowned. "Lillian-"

"I said I don't want to", Lillian said firmly.

Sighing silently, he met her sad blue puffy eyes, seeing a thousand stories all at once. He nodded and put the milk down. "Alright, I understand"

He didn't. He really didn't. But when it comes to Lillian, he knew her stubbornness was something he could never compete with. Instead he asked, "What were you dreaming about?"

He didn't get an answer. He pressed on. "You did dream, right?"

Lillian walked past him and went to one of the bar stools, pulling it roughly against the floor. She sat, facing him, tucking a blonde hair behind the shell of her ear. "Yes, I had a dream."

Raymond crossed his heavy arms against each other, resting on the wall. Lillian looked down at her hands, remembering the feel of silk against her hands. She looked up. "It was about Madeline"

Raymond snorted as he smiled, turning his head away. "Of course"

"It was bad Ray", she said, features turning up into an ugly frown. "I showed her a picture and she said it wasn't her. I was so confident", she whispered the last sentence to herself.

She stared at him; eyes brimmed with red, lips turning down in sadness, tears escaping her eyes. "She called out a name, mocking me Ray. She was mocking me!"

Raymond watched his wife with a blank face, lips pursed. "Mocking you about what?"

Lillian wiped at her eyes furiously, mucus running down her nose. She reached for a tissue and turned away. The chair screeched as she faced him. "I showed her a picture with her in it. But she said it wasn't her; that the girl in the picture had dark hair" Lillian shook her head furiously, eyes still brimming with tears. "I saw that picture George-"

"Raymond", he corrected stiffly.

She went on. "The girl was blonde and she was smiling and she was at the beach and her hair was blowing in the wind and she was...she was..." Lillian put her fist to her mouth, sobbing quietly.

Raymond walked up to her and hugged her tightly against him, cooing softly in her ear, running his hands against her hair. "Shh...It's going to be fine. I'm right here"

Lillian shook her head against his chest, shoulders moving with her sobs. "It's not George. It's really not", she choked out.

Raymond sighed quietly, now running his hands down her back. He didn't bother correcting her. Calling him by her ex-husband's name, by Madeline's father's name, was something he had gotten used to; even though it irked him to the core. He listened to her sobs as he laid his head on her head, moving in sync with her sobs. He hated Madeline for doing this to Lillian. He hated Madeline for killing their nine-year old daughter. He hated Madeline for killing Sarah.

Raising his head slightly, his eyes met the picture on the wall; the picture of an eight year-old dark-haired girl smiling right back at him. He shook his head and laid it back on Lillian's head, whispering how it was going to be ok. But deep down, he knew it would never be alright-not until Madeline disappeared from their lives.

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Why does Lillian call Raymond by another name?

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Thanks for reading!

-Ada