I stared at the ceiling, hoping for some answer to what I should've been doing with myself. 

Dylan was a great person. He gave me a place to stay, brought me Doctors to whip me into a decent human being, he even gave me people to check up on my every need. So why wasn't he giving me something as simple as a computer, or a good book? I was bored. 

In the big luxurious house, there was nothing for me to do on my own. 

It left me pondering, too long and too hard about the life I'd been living and the one I was going to be living from then on. I might've been broken, defeated by the chaos and mutiny ensued by the circumstances I was under, but I wasn't doing anything about it. 

Out of the few broken people I knew, I was the only one allowing myself to be beaten by the things around me. I was the only one that had given up, even when I was the only one that didn't have a reason to. 

As I stared at the ceiling, something became clear to me, maybe not the revelation type clarity that sparks a heroines race to victory, but something useful. I didn't have to give up nor did I have to depend on someone else to get me to where I needed to go. 

I was grateful for Dylan's help because now I could push myself in the right direction. 

 Maria came to me around one to let me know that it was time for lunch. On my way out, I heard a commotion coming from the other unexplored end of the house, a woman it seemed, arguing with someone about how it was too early in the year for the flowers to be blooming. I laughed. "She needs to be in a looney bin, it's almost September."

Dylan was already seated at the kitchen island when I got upstairs.

"Is it even comfortable for you to sit like that?" I asked, walking past him to get to the other side where an untouched plate of food sat. Dylan didn't respond, instead, he laughed and straightened himself and untucked his leg from around the other. 

"Didn't realize I was such a comedy. Should've been in stand up instead of administration, maybe I would still have a job?" 

"I laughed, I didn't say you were funny, Lilith," Dylan replied dryly.

"Why else are you helping me?" I picked up the fork, "You know, other than that redemption you're seeking for being a jerk to your mom?

"Who said the redemption is from my mother's death?" he quickly returned. 

I shrugged, "Speculating, I guess. You never said it wasn't."

"Oh," he said wrinkling his forehead, "Well it's not, and there is no other reason. Just the one." He dipped his head quickly, focusing on the steak that he was about to cut in to.

I stared at my own plate a bit irritated. I'd been served again, but while Dylan savored a cut of steak, I had a plate full of vegetables and sautéed fish. "What's with the biased in meals?" I stuck a baby carrot into my mouth. "I haven't had an actual piece of meat since I've been here."

"You have Cancer, you shouldn't consume red meat so regularly," he said still avoiding my gaze, "Also, you should be grateful. By the looks of it, you didn't have anything but coffee and alcohol for weeks, months maybe. I'm surprised you're this limber."

"I am grateful." I said remembering that I had no clue where we were, "But, my eating habits aside, where is this place?" I stuck a piece of what tasted like Salmon in my mouth. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's beautiful, but I don't have car or money and you made it clear that you won't be here that much. Makes me feel more like I'm under house arrest than getting some help."

"Well, you kind of are," Dylan answered matter-of-factly.  "You don't have a job, you have no friends, and you're broke." He pushed a piece of steak into his mouth, shewing it slowly before continuing to speak. "Save for the clothing Jenny packed for you, you have nothing, so you shouldn't need to go anywhere." 

I can't say that his comment didn't bother me. Dejected, I placed the fork down and folded my arms, "Don't you think that was a little harsh." 

"Maybe, but it's simple, Lilith. You stay here, you get better, you find a job and then you leave." He paused looking back over at the hallway, "And while you're here, don't piss anybody off."

His last words brought the memory barreling back into my mind. "Who is she?" I questioned.

"That means you've already met her?" Dylan said looking directly at me.

"More like I've already been insulted by her, but yes." I rolled my eyes, "I'm sorry but is everyone in this house as rude as you. I mean you put me on suicide watch, and your butler is a jerk by the way. He had no tact and this other woman, whoever she is. . ."

"My sister, Elana," he answered.

"Your sister, Elana," I said in a mocking tone, "She's a bitch. And Mason, regardless of his history or whatever, he was an asshole,"

"More or less." Dylan grinned.

 "And so are you." I slammed my open palm down on the countertop sending echoes throughout the floor. "None of you have any regard for the feelings of others. You just let whatever comes into your mind pop out of your mouth,"

"Much like you're doing right now," Dylan said.

"Yeah, you don't like how it feels, right?" I shouted at him, hoping that his response would show some of the little humility I expected him to have. It didn't.

"No, it doesn't matter," he laughed, "I have to care about what you think for something to affect me, and as luck would have it, we're not even friends, so I'm safe." 

The smug look on his face made me want to strangle him. Dylan's half honest moments where he appeared human were tossing me around like a referee dodging punches in a boxing match. I couldn't keep up.

"I give up!" I said sighing loudly. With a renewed vigor to eat, I picked up the fork and dove right back into the vegetables. Dylan, on the other hand, stood, his plate empty because unlike me, he'd continued to eat while we had our little discussion, not to mention he'd started without me.

He smiled, sleeking his hair back with his free hand. Dylan righted himself as he left the island, leaving me with one piece of advice, "Don't expect me to be something I'm not, Lilith. The person you see is just an image you all crave. Digging for something deeper will only disappoint you."

I stared back at him.  The intensity had built up once again and having nothing more than a few bites in my stomach, it rumbled, angry that I wasn't doing my utmost to quell the growing hunger when the food was right in front of me.

The smile on his face slowly faded, almost as if he'd been crushed by the weight of his own words. 

"Just don't expect anything from me, I'm not Mason."

As he placed his dish in the sink, Dylan called over his shoulder to me. "I'll be in my studio. See you for Dinner."

"Right." 

I sat quietly as I finished off my lunch. My presence had been overpowered once again, what sucked the most about it was that the more I tried to find my footing with Dylan, the easier it was for him to knock me off balance. 

As a woman of the 21st Century, I did own a cell phone. It's usage, though minimal, did prove important at times. One of those times was now when I turned on the TV and realized that no form of entertainment could come from local programming. 

The actual phone wasn't important. I didn't have anyone to call or text, but I did have Netflix. It meant that I wouldn't even need to worry about TV and I could binge on shows in my 'free time'. Sadly, the phone had yet to turn up. I also hadn't seen Dylan's landline or even a computer. In fact, except for the advanced kitchen appliances, technology seemed to be the one thing that the house was missing. 

I washed up the dishes, trying to use it to occupy some of the time I had. Then went in search of Dylan. By my calculations, Dinner was about 6 hours away and if I couldn't find anything to do on my own, I'd at least sit and stare at him -- wherever he was. 

The problem was; finding Dylan meant searching behind every door in what appeared to be a mega apartment on the second floor of the house. It was never clear which direction he went, or which door he entered. But, as long as it wasn't locked, I planned to check it out. 

I started with the door closest to me. When I opened, I was careful, unaware if the hinges would creak like that of an old house. Luckily it didn't. It didn't make one sound. Every room that I checked was like a feather landing, quiet, effortless. 

I continued, finding nothing but bare walls and glass windows until I came to the fourth door just on the inside of the corridor leading off into the opposite direction of the bedroom. There were droplets and smudges of paint on the handle and on the siding of the door. 

A light bulb went off. 

All my sneaking around had paid off, and finally, my game of find Master Stone was coming to an end.

I gently turned the handle, careful not to make any sound as the door opened. Once the space was wide enough, I peeked my head through hoping to catch Dylan using the paint that I'd seen staining his hands, only he wasn't there. The only things in the room were art. 

Beautiful paintings, charcoal sketches and pastel colorings lined the interior of the room.  

I quickly slipped in, closing the door behind me in the hopes that no one would notice me going in. It was truly astonishing, and it became immediately clear that the person who'd created it was Dylan. And not because he had paint on his hands, r because he was always disappearing into different areas without a word. Not even because he said he was headed to his studio. 

I could tell because of their content. 

The places, the people, the color that so clearly defined the mood. It was the Office AT DE-H-EM. Every person in there caught in a moment that could define who they were even if they had no idea who they were. 

They were perfect. 

Even the ones of the women. Different outfits and poses. Different backgrounds, all using different mediums. I knew who some of them were, could feel what they felt as I looked at the artwork. The men, on the other hand, all seemed to be portrayed as they were in the Office. All suits and files.

The room was like a gateway to the soul of those who were too coy or frightened to show their true self. What shocked me was the canvas that sat on the easel near to a window at the back overlooking the garden. 

The canvas had been softened with a tint of blue, adding to the radiance in her skin and the beautiful green eyes that she had. Dylan captured her perfectly, only the blue showed her in her most impressive state. Not the pretentious girl who threw herself at men. Instead, she looked sophisticated and brilliant. 

The details were amazing. It was baffling how much Dylan managed to get onto the canvas. Every one at DE-H-EM was being shown in their best light. Everyone but me. 

I was missing.

The illustration of me, the one shouting that I was more than Jenny's best friend, more than an alcoholic and borderline junkie, it was missing. Almost like I'd already died and was forgotten by everyone. 

That hurt. More than it should have and more than I might ever really admit.

I fled the room, taking one last look at the artwork that lined the room and then hurried to my own. 

A/N

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