No, that’s not true. Denying the question in my head, I know damn well I love her. I have loved her for as long as I can remember now. Hanging my head, I mutter, more to myself than to her, “The only fear that’s to be had when you love someone is the fear of losing them.”
I don’t even know she’s heard me until she answers, her voice strong enough to force me to look back at her, “You’re wrong. There are so many different kinds of love.”
“I only know one.” I stare back at her, my gaze lingering on every inch of her skin until I make my way to the pain in her eyes. This is my fault. It’s time that I pay for it.
“I wish I weren’t afraid of you,” she confesses, her voice distorted by raw pain.
“That makes two of us, little mouse.” It takes a deep inhale before I can get the rest out. “I’m sorry I brought you into this.” My voice shakes as I say words that sound like goodbye. My sweet Delilah rages against the cuffs for the first time, the metal clanking against the iron frame as she attempts to pull herself upright, but it’s no use. She’s not getting out of there, not until Walsh comes to get her.
“I never should have come near you.” I utter the confession as Delilah shakes her head, her wild eyes refuting it.
“No,” she exclaims. “Stop talking, stop it!”
“I’ll leave you alone. I won’t hurt you again.” I speak aloud what I know to be right, even as my vision blurs and my chest seems to hollow with agony.
“Marcus, I’ll call you Marcus!” she screams over top of my apology. “Please don’t leave me!” she cries out, fresh tears spilling. “Please, Marcus, please,” she begs me, her body arching in protest.
I am a weak man as my grip tightens on the doorframe, so close to leaving her like I know I should. “Please, Marcus, please! Don’t leave me!
“Walsh will come for you.”
“Please! I want you! Please!”
She wants me. I let the soothing balm of her words calm a piece inside of me that longs for her affection. I know it’s only because of the predicament she’s in. Cuffed to a bed in a broken-down house, all alone and in the dark, she’d seek 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 lay 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.