Lilith's Reflection explores the concept of possibilities rather than facts. If facts dominate most of our daily thinking, we'd leave out possibilities that might exist in our lives-the unseen from other dimensions that intercept our paths of life. Things or events exist for a reason, and there is more than one way to look into every situation. Lilith was introduced as an orphan and a tragic victim who was abandoned by her psychopathic father at the age of six. She was mentally not well, she thought at first. Now she realized her condition has never been that simple. Her illness wasn't strong enough to poison her mind, but something else was. Her mental illness was just the image she portrayed to others, but her true self was far beyond her sickness. Love, in this novel, is represented in an unnoticeable and unusual way rather than in a traditional way. There is no such thing as the "correct" or the "wrong" way of loving someone. Love could be in holiness, or love could be in such sinfulness, but love is love. Lilith, after countless struggles with her search for true love, she had found not only her greatest love of all, but also her "true" soul mate, not for one life, but for eternity. Author Brigitte Wynn Karey is a lover of words. The author expresses her thoughts not only to her audiences but also to herself. Her ability to use words to express her thoughts creatively in her own way was excellent. The imagination created in this book would let the audiences enjoy their mental imaginary visions as well as to open up the possibilities that they might have missed out.

Lilith's Reflection

The UnseenBy Brigitte Wynn Karey

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2012 Brigitte Wynn Karey
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4669-3643-0

Chapter One

The half moon shined across the garden of the mental clinic. The grass was soggy wet since it had been raining since the early morning on the last day that Dr. Lilith Wyn, a well-known psychiatrist, stayed at this place as a patient. The memory she had on this place seemed so vague, but ironically, she had been suppressed these memories for an unknown reason.

Sitting at the indoor bench, she inhaled the fresh air deeply into her lungs. Standing next to the bench, her nurse, Sarah, was keeping her company. Looking at the nurse like a little kid, she asked, "Sarah, have I ever been in love?"

"Surely yes."

"Sarah, tell me, have I ever had an asthma attack?"

"No, not that I know of. Your patient may be, but he passed away at a young age. Someone that you don't remember." Sarah informed her.

"Thank you, Sarah."

Dr. Lilith Wyn got up and walked back with Sarah to the refectory area. From the distance, judging from her profile, she looked much younger than her age. She was admitted to the mental hospital twenty years ago when she was at her late twenties. Now, she could barely remember when and why she was admitted, and perhaps, she did not want to find out.

The wind kept blowing, the rain came down sideways, and the pouring rainfall washed the windows. The piano was still there in the middle of the refectory room. Lilith still hummed a love tune repeatedly every time she passed by the piano. It was like her second nature. The piano has not been played by anyone in the mental institute for quite some time. The yellow stains on the keyboards started to build up. The piano once has entertained Lilith when she was deeply in love with a very special someone in her life.

She stopped statically at the old piano; she stared at it, and she moved her hands slowly through its keyboard. She realized that tears were sliding down her face, but she could not comprehend her own reaction, for she felt no pain, grief, sadness, helpless rage, or deep sense of loss. She wiped her nonsense tears with her trembling hands and continued her journey back to her cell with Sarah walking along by her side.

A peaceful breeze touched her face; she felt calm, the same delightful sensation that she had experienced before. She could still feel the soft touch of someone's hand on her face. Someone was close enough to listen to her breathing. Someone was drawing her to himself. Someone kissed her like drowning. Someone whispered a love tune to her ear. Someone undressed her with passion. Someone captured her heart so deeply. Someone with an unbelievably beautiful face ... Those nights were hazy. She could feel every emotion without having any recollection of those events. Something had happened at nights at this place many years ago ...

She was not afraid of dying. In fact, she fantasized about it, about afterlife. Reality and being alive tormented her. She needed to be close to death. She has had enough of this life. Only in those dreams, she could feel love. She sensed rejection for no appropriate reason. Not being able to murder her own self had created the uncontrollable anger. The urge of dying and committing murder was overwhelming.

"Sarah, how long have I been here?" Lilith asked as she just woke up from a long coma.

"Too long, Dr. Wyn. Too long ..."

"Had anyone ever come to visit me when I was in a coma?"

"Umm, not at first, but there was a little kid who came to visit you with a single white rose. He spent long hours at your bedside almost every day for years ..."

"Do I know him?"

"I am not quite sure."

"Strange ..."

"Yes, it was quite strange ... but sweet ..."

"Sarah, I need to go back to my room ... I am too exhausted to think ..." Lilith took a deep breath after she finished talking.

Her smile belied her pain of losing someone's memories and memories of her own. It seemed to her as she had slept for a century. Living in a coma for two decades was not enough rest for her. Now that she was awake, she was in a complete loss.

* * *

Through the window of Lilith's room, she looked out thinking about how beautiful the night was. She brushed her hair with full care. The streetlight shone in between the smooth surface of the tree branches and cast a bright, clear, and pink aura. Lilith was amazed when she saw a magical aura appear as a pink flame from a distance. She saw a love spiritual through it. She believed the pink flame of the aura came from the heart of an angel that God had sent down to the earth to refrain her from committing sins.

For a moment, she heard the sound of violin playing from afar. Then she thought she saw his face—an innocent angel fallen from the sky along with blessings from God—his pureness, his harmless and defenseless flesh. She faintly remembered him, wishing she could hear him play Chopin's Nocturne in G Major. She had learnt this piece of music by heart. Tonight, the same as the other nights from her past, with the rain pouring, this piece of music sounded like Symphony of the Rain. His music touched her soul as nothing else could. It simply revived her.

In her mind, indistinctly, she saw his hair was covered by the thin mist of the night. As he turned around to look at her, his face turned pale, and she could hear his heart racing. Even his profile was concealed by the dense fog; she remembered his flawless face so well. She was speechless even if she could not explain her own emotions. His overwhelming closeness had shocked her. She was convinced that he was real, but unfortunately, with each blink of her eyes, his profile faded bit by bit until he was completely gone.

She smiled faintly with disappointment and sadness, not because of the absence of his existence, but because her weak mind could not have been able to hold her memory of him longer as she wished. She always felt his present. His voice touched her heart. His smile made her move. Sadly, her memory of him was broken. Everything about him somehow became fragmented.

Tomorrow would be a brand-new day and a new beginning for her. Her job as a psychiatrist would be put on hold for now until she was fully recovered. However, starting tomorrow, she would leave this place that had been her residence for twenty long years to move to a brand-new home on the other side of the brick wall. She could not sleep thinking about the other side of the brick wall that separated the mental institute from the outside world—the reality that she had to face soon. She thought about how vulnerable she would be without any kind of protection. However, something else bothered her: the spirit that she would leave behind.

She stared at the armoire, and she hesitated to pack. Finally, with enough courage, she pulled out a suitcase under her bed. Within a few steps, she opened the armoire and took all her clothes off the hangers. She folded all her clothing and put them into the suitcase. For few seconds, she felt lightheaded and nauseous. She realized that all her clothes and shoes had become out of style. She was living in a physical sense that has not been active and has not been in touch with reality for twenty years—a life without knowing she still existed.

Her old diary—her past, her memories, and her identity—remained untouched at the corner inside the armoire, waiting for her to pick it up. The complete details of her past were stated in depth and thoroughly, page by page, in that diary. She was terrified by...