Page 67 of Deliria

She presses her face against my chest, her words muffled but frantic. “Purple like bruised twilight. Gold like forgotten promises. Red like...” she trails off, her body tensing. “Red like blood on white marble tiles.”

That last part sends a chill down my spine. There’s something very specific in that image, something that feels less like a drug-induced hallucination and more like a memory.

“Scarlett?” I prompt when she goes quiet for too long.

Her only response is a soft humming, and it’s the same eerie tune from before. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my collarbone, but her movements are getting sluggish.

“Almost there,” I tell her, though I’m not sure she’s listening anymore. The mansion looms ahead, its windows glowing like warning beacons in the growing dark. “Just stay with me.”

She laughs, but it’s not the carefree sound from the cliff. This is hollow, haunted. “Everyone leaves in the end,” she murmursin such a sad, desolate voice. “They all fade away like the colours.”

“Not this time,” I promise, even though I have no right to make such claims. “I’ve got you.”

Her hand finds my face, cold fingers tracing my jaw. “Your eyes are the colour of storms,” she whispers. “Dark and dangerous and full of so many secrets.”

I feel captive, held in her gaze as she stares at me. Is it her who’s possessed now, or me? I gulp back the lump in my throat, swallowing down all those words, all those thoughts, every moment where I’ve wanted to pull her back, pull her out of this nightmare. Pull her to safety. To me.

I can feel her body moving, her chest rising and falling. She’s quivering and I swear it’s from more than just the temperature.

“Scarlett,” Her name sounds forbidden, a curse on my lips. And it was. She was. I cursed her just as I cursed my entire family all those months ago. But now, now I would willingly fall on my sword, would cleave my chest open and rip my heart out, presenting it to her if that would make her smile.

Christ, I’m a fool. A stupid, stupid fool. I have no good reason to be feeling this. To be acknowledging this either. I’m not meant to be a participant in all this. I’m the outsider, the observer. I’m here simply for the end scene. The final moment. My presence right now isn’t even necessary.

She draws in another long breath, dragging those delicate fingertips down over my face, like she’s trying to commit my features to memory. “Are you going to destroy me too? Destroy me just like the rest of your family intend to?”

The question hits like a physical blow. Before I can respond, her hand drops, and her body goes limp in my arms. She’s finally passed out, her breathing deep and even against my chest. It’s probably for the best – she’s safer unconscious than she is awake around me.

There are too many secrets. Too many lies. I don’t even know which Scarlett I’m dealing with now. The compliant one. The drugged up, sacrificial lamb, or the real her. The real Scarlett.

Still, her last question echoes in my head like an accusation.Are you going to destroy me too?

“Fucking hell,” I mutter as she shivers violently in my arms. Her skin is like ice, lips taking on a bluish tinge that sets off every warning bell in my head.

I need to get her warm or she’ll die here despite what I’ve done.

But just as that thought forms, I see it, movement from the house.

Alexander comes rushing out, his face the usual look of anger he reserves just for me.

“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from her.” He snarls as he tears Scarlett from my arms with such force that she yelps, coming back around.

“Seriously? That’s your concern right now?” I growl back. “She was out on the cliffs, dancing like a mad woman. At any moment she could have fallen. She could have died.”

He shakes his head, tightening his grip around her fragile body, and I swear I can see where his fingers bury themselves in her limbs.

My eyes find hers, searching for some reaction, but her gaze is unfocused, and it’s clear she’s lost all awareness of her surroundings.

Maybe that’s for the best. Better she be out of it, than she opens her mouth and starts spilling everything.

“She wouldn’t have fallen.” He says dismissively, as if I’m an idiot imagining things.

I grab his shirt, yanking him back. “You’re drugging her too much. You could have killed her.”

He narrows his eyes, pulling away. “What do you care?” He replies. “Besides, in a few weeks this will all be over anyway.”

I stare after him as he turns on his heel, carrying her back into the house, and away from me.

I know I have no claims on her.

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