Lilith wasn’t exactly rolling in it, but she wasn’t hurting for it either. Gone were the days she had spent hungry and alone, in one furnished room after another, while her mother was perched on a bar stool somewhere, ‘interviewing’ yet another perspective ‘uncle’.
Much of her youth she had felt like a child even a mother couldn’t love. By the time she reached adolescents, those feelings of inadequacy had fermented into rage. She was angry at her mother for having all but abandoned her, and even angrier at the never ending parade of ‘uncles’ that waltzed in and out of her life, taking what there was of her mothers love with them.
In her teens she learned to funnel that rage. To use the one weakness she found all of those ‘uncles’ had in common to strike back, to make them pay for the part she perceived they had played in robbing her of her her mothers love.
Today she lived in a luxurious penthouse apartment, bought and paid for with the monies of men very similar to all the ‘uncles’ she had seen come and go in her childhood. Men who would never know the contempt that drove her into their arms, as they couldn’t see past the few fleeting moments they spent in her bed.
By day, Lilith was grateful her early life had been an uphill path, as it made her success all that much sweeter. But each night, even the sweet smell of her own success was not enough to keep the memory of her own inadequacies from creeping into the empty bed beside her.