Page 36 of Deliria

I wake with a jerk.My eyes dart around the room, expecting to see him, only he’s not here.

I can smell his aftershave. I can see the imprint in the pillow beside me.

Did he stay last night? Or was I so out of it that I didn’t move after he was done with me?

I grit my teeth, pushing my body up, and every single inch of me protests the movement.

I know we had sex last night, but it feels like we didn’t just fuck. It feels like he brutalised my body more than usual.

My body is shaking, shivering, trembling and I’m not sure why.

I need to get to the library.

The words repeat in my head. But why? What’s so great about the library?

There’s only one way to find out, so I force my body to move, force myself up and go to the bathroom. In the mirror I look just as pale as I remember, but I swear there’s a new look in my eyes. One of defiance. A spark that wasn’t there yesterday.

I’ll have to be careful, so damn careful.

I can’t let them know that I know. I need to pretend, to be the best damn actress of my life.

My stomach twists with both fear and hunger. I need to eat more. To get myself stronger. I can’t fight them if my body is too weak and exhausted to even walk a few steps.

“Scarlett?”

For a second my fear traps me.

I know it’s my husband. I know he is here to ‘check up on me’, to no doubt assess if I’m going to be a good little wife today, or a disobedient bitch. Well bad news, Alex. I’m not your trapped little creature anymore. I’m not some songbird you’ve caught and locked away… songbird. That word stirs a memory.

Rafe.

Fucking Rafe.

He knows.

He even taunted me about it.

So is he part of this, is his rivalry with his brother even real? Or another level of deception meant to confuse and isolate me further?

Before I can contemplate that, the bathroom door swings open and Alex is there, with a hard, frustrated look on his face.

“Did you not hear me calling you?” He says. Apparently, there’s no softness to him today. Just angry, pissed off Alex.

I frown, stepping back, letting my eyes dart wildly about me as if I’m on the verge of losing control. “I, I…” I trail off, before taking a step forward and I clutch at his crisp shirt like it’s the only thing holding me up. “Alex?” I gasp, my voice thick with relief, as if he’s my salvation.

He stiffens, before his arm wraps around me. “It’s okay.” He murmurs.

“I woke, I woke and I didn’t know where I was, where you were. What -where am I?”

He softens more, leading me back to the bed, falling for my compliant, sick girl act. “You’ve been ill, my love.” He says.

“Ill?” I repeat like the word makes no sense whatsoever. Like this whole conversation hasn’t been repeated countless times before.

He scoops me up, places me in the bed and pulls the covers back. “You need to rest. You need to recover.” He cups my cheek and then he pulls my hand, gently opening it before placing a handful of white pills into my palm. “You need to take your meds.”

I stare at them. Any resistance now will fuck everything up - but if I take them, I know I won’t be in any fit state to find out what the fuck is going on here, or to fight them if that is what is needed.

“Here.” He says, handing me a glass with an expectant tone to his voice.

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