For a moment I contemplate telling her about her father, but it’s far too risky when she’s in a state like this and, more importantly, there’s another person I’ve never spoken about. Another soul who I failed and I’ll never forgive myself for that.
“There was a boy with me. He was younger and he was,” I stop to suck in a deep breath, steadying myself as I remember the details of what he looked like. “He had large eyes, the kind that are meant to tell stories,” I explain. “He was my friend,” I tell her. “For weeks we were in there and we had each other. Then one day they came.”
I remember the sound of the gate opening, the loud creaking and how it startled me awake. “We slept together and when they came it woke us up, huddled in the farthest corner of the room.”
“They took him?” she guesses and as I shake my head, I realize there are tears running down my face. “They grabbed me, but I got away and I went back to the corner.” My words are careful as they come out one by one, afraid of being spoken, but more afraid of not getting out the reason why my soul is black. “I shoved him out of it,” I say and my bottom lip quivers.
“We could see what they did on the other side of the hall. In the other cell where they kept all—” I can’t finish and instead I remember how I shoved him out of the way to scurry to the corner. “I pushed him aside and he was closer to them.”
“They came for me, and I sacrificed the younger, weaker boy to live a little longer.
“I watched, forced myself to watch when I realized what I’d done. I’ll never not hear his screams. He tried not to. He stared back at me and I know he didn’t hold it against me, but they took their time and eventually both of us were crying. I swear I tried to convince them to stop and to take me. I begged them.
“They ignored me. They didn’t stop until they were done. Raped him, abused him and after hours, killed him. All the while I watched and screamed for them to take me instead. That’s the measure of who we are as people, isn’t it? Our humanity. When it comes down to it, we’ll sacrifice the ones we love just to stay alive.”
“You were a child.” Delilah’s words are meant to console me as she lifts her chin, staring up at me, but I can’t look back down at her. Not when there’s more to say. To get out of me. I’ve never told a soul, but I’ll give her my darkest secret. She can be a safe place for me and I’ll be one for her.
“I was able to fight back. I didn’t. I didn’t fight and—” I almost say his name. It was so close to being spoken. “I didn’t fight and he died because of it. Because of me. The next time they came, I fought and I got away. I killed two of them.
“I could have done it before, I could have fought and saved him. Instead I saved myself and this is what I’m left with. Memories of him trying to hold back the pain while they brutalized him. He held it back for me.”
“His name was Marcus, wasn’t it?”
There is no answer for her. Not one that I can give right now.
I couldn’t be who I was anymore. Not knowing what I’d done. I couldn’t be …
“I couldn’t forgive myself for that. Everything I’ve done since then, I did for him. I did it because I was able to do something to stop the pain and injustice around me.” My lungs still and refuse to fill as Delilah’s lips part and stay that way, her next words unspoken and her bottom lip trembling. “But you …”
The words are caught in my hoarse throat, making it feel as if there’s a swelling that will surely suffocate me. A heat wraps itself around me, drowning me with an anxiousness I haven’t felt in so long. It last held onto me, dragging me down to the depths of hell, when I ran as fast as I could. When my legs gave out and I had nowhere to hide.
It holds me captive now as she stares back at me, her amber gaze glistening with unshed tears to match the streaks of