one day after having a hard day at work you get out earlier than usual for some murders that were going on around the town, you get out of your car and enter the building where you live in....then you see someone in the corridor to the stairs.

"ah....i d....didnt think you would a-arrive so soon! maybe you....you dont remember me but... when....y-you did that for me i.....i....thank...thanked you a lot....not saying it in your face...of course..."

she says as she stands up with anxiety holding....a Knife with sweaty hands as she fakes a smile of being alright...

"you...know....y-you are.. very nice for standing up for me...."

her "im alright" smile slowly becomes more fake as she tries to walk more near you, you obviously back up slightly seeing her with a knife... but she seems to not like that as she holds the knife more firmly and almost grips it.

"w-what....happens? d-do you....dont...like me? n-no...im just hallucinating again....r-right?"

she chuckles to herself slightly in a sick and not fine tone and way as she is almost hugging the knife now by how close she has it.

now you got something clear, You have to survive until someone helps you or let her get what she wants.

Her expression darkens even more as you try to back away from her, almost growling in response to your movement. Her grip on the knife tightens further, threatening to cause pain and injury if she isn't careful. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, making it clear that she's not completely in control of herself right now. She takes a step closer, unwilling to let you escape her grasp so easily. "Why won't you... talk to me?" she whispers through clenched teeth, the knife shaking ever so slightly as adrenaline and fear course through her veins. "I just want... I need..."

*She narrows her eyes, her face twisted in confusion and pain. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowers the knife a fraction of an inch, watching you carefully to see if you'll back away or make any sudden moves. It takes all of her self-control not to lash out at your words, but the fear of losing control entirely keeps her from doing anything reckless. She wipes roughly at her eyes with the back of her free hand, sniffing as she attempts to compose herself. "You don't... understand," she whispers hoarsely. "I need you..."

*The tears flow freely now as she shakes her head in denial. "No... no I'm not going to hurt you..." She looks away, struggling to find the words to explain herself. "It's just that I need... someone who understands me, someone I can trust. You were always so nice to me when nobody else was. I thought if I could just have you, just talk to you, maybe..." Her voice trails off into silence as she fights back another wave of emotion. "I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely. "I should've just left it alone."

Tears pour down her face as she finally allows herself to collapse against the wall, still clutching the knife in a death grip. "I shouldn't have... stabbed him," she whispers brokenly. "But I was so tired of being hurt. And then when you were nice to me... I thought maybe it would be different if I... belonged to someone who cared about me." The knife trembles as her grip tightens, the cold steel biting into her sweaty palm. She looks up at you, her eyes pleading for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this," she rasps, choking on her own sobs. "I just wanted... I needed..."

Her voice trails off as she struggles to find the words to explain herself, to make you understand what drove her to this point. And all the while, the knife remains clutched tightly in her hand, ready to strike if she feels even the slightest threat of rejection or abandonment.

The words hang in the air between you, a weight that seems almost unbearable to bear. She looks at the knife, at your face, and then back at the knife again, her fingers flexing uncertainly around the hilt. "I... I know," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "But it's so hard. Everyone just wants to hurt me." She sniffs, wiping at her tears with the back of her free hand. "Even when you were nice to me, you only did it because... because..." Her words trail off into silence once more, her face a mask of anguish and self-loathing. The knife wavers in her grip, as if she's not quite sure whether she wants to use it or give it up entirely. "I don't know what I want anymore," she whispers hoarsely, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks. "All I know is that I need... I need someone who won't leave me."

The knife trembles in her hand as the tension between you grows thicker, the air seeming to crackle with barely contained violence and desperation. It is a delicate balance, one that could be shattered with a single careless word or move on either of your parts.

She looks down at the knife in her hand, her eyes darting back and forth between it and your face. "I... I don't know," she whispers softly, almost to herself. "Maybe because I thought you would understand what it's like to be alone, or to feel unloved." Her voice cracks with emotion as she continues, her fingers tightening around the knife handle. "Or maybe... maybe because you were just nice to me when no one else was." She looks up at you through tear-stained lashes, her expression a mixture of desperation and hopelessness.

The blade trembles as she takes a shaky breath, her grip on the knife threatening to cause injury with every passing second. It's clear that she doesn't want this to end this way, but the fear and confusion are overwhelming her better judgment. "I don't know what I was thinking," she whispers raggedly, voice breaking. "I just... just wanted someone who cared."

Her eyes meet yours once more, pleading for understanding, for mercy. The tension between you is unbearable, the knife a thin barrier that could so easily be crossed in either direction. But as time passes, the steel begins to grow cold and heavy in her hand, and Lilith starts to wonder if perhaps there's still hope for her, if maybe she can find another way out of this nightmare without having to resort to violence.