comfort from anyone. But still I hesitate to leave.
“Don’t leave me,” she whimpers, her head hanging low and her words weakened by defeat.
“I told you, little mouse,” I say and look back to see her, really see her and what I’ve done to her. “We all break.”
She screams out as I close the door behind me, striding as far away from her as I can to dim her cries. It won’t take her long to quiet, I’m sure.
I don’t give myself time to think; I text Walsh my address without allowing another moment to pass for me to reconsider, to hold onto hope that I’m wrong.
I watch the clock, knowing he’s nearly an hour away.
Curiosity gets the better of me when her cries turn silent. I have to know she’s all right more than anything else. She couldn’t possibly hurt herself, but still, I have to be sure.
Although her shoulders rise and fall with deep, unsteady breaths, her eyes stay closed as the door creeps open.
The comforter’s slipped down her body and I use that as an excuse to bring it up around her shoulders. She’s still as I do, but I know she’s awake when she slightly leans into my touch. She keeps her lips pressed tight as her bottom lip trembles. The plea is so close to being spoken.
Slowly, I lie down behind her. And when I do, an inhale of relief greets me, her lips parting and her body slightly gravitating toward mine, her back to my front.
It reminds me of the night I first lay with her, when I told her to close her eyes.
If only we had the luxury of living our entire lives like that, in blissful ignorance.
It’s selfish to lie down with her. Everything about her calms me. With my eyes closed, I breathe her in, knowing it’ll be the last time. I wish that the memory of this moment would comfort me, but given how I have to be careful of her bruises and that I’m the one who made her cry last, this moment will only serve as a reminder to why I should stay far away.
We breathe in unison and it’s her steady breaths that calm mine. When I kiss the curve of her neck, she whispers that she loves me, and I believe her, I really do.
So much so, that it lulls me to sleep beside her.
It’s not until the door creaks open and my brother stares back at me, that I wake up, my eyes tired and full of shame.
“I didn’t mean to be here,” I confess to him as his eyes widen with unspoken questions. I do my best not to wake her as I creep out of bed and turn away from him. His weight shifts at the door, causing the floorboards to creak.
“Just get her to her sister.”
Cody nods in agreement and I walk past him, neither of us saying another word as I leave him to save her from this nightmare in a way I never can escape.
Delilah
“I’m begging you.” My sister’s voice is strained as I sit in her office. The faint bruise on my left arm is barely there anymore. I’ve traced it idly this past week. It’s the last remaining reminder of what happened. Physically speaking, that is.
“Cody begged you, and now I’m begging.” The mention of Cody’s name does something to me. There’s a place inside my chest that’s felt empty for days. I can barely look at him. I know he wants me still, and he blames himself when he shouldn’t. I told him he shouldn’t. My sister told him to give me time. But time isn’t going to change any of this.
Her voice is thick with embitterment when she says, “For Christ’s sake, do you want me to get down on my knees?”
“Is this because I asked to meet you here instead of your apartment?” I know damn well she’s not pushing the issue just because I don’t want to go back to her apartment. Still, it’s a defense. The reason she wants me to go into therapy is multifaceted but she understands I didn’t want to go back to her place, and have this conversation in the place I was abducted.
I’ll be fine if I never go back there again.
My sister starts in again. “You didn’t go to mom’s funeral. You aren’t sleeping.”
“And how would you know that?” I question snidely, even though she’s right.
“You look like hell, Delilah.” I scoff at her comment. “And you should,”