Page 74 of Deliria

She’s beautiful, even with the shadows of fear and exhaustion clinging to her.

But in this light, I can see the faint bruising around her neck. It’s higher than where the belt was. Older too, fingerprints pressed into her skin like a twisted necklace.

Is that the handiwork of my father or my brother?

I guess it could well be both.

As I let out a sigh, I wonder whether this will all feel worth it once we’re there. Once we’ve reached the endpoint. Will Scarlett agree then that her sacrifices were appropriate? God, I hope so. I don’t know how I’ll console her, how I’ll put her back together if she doesn’t.

Because it will be me playing that part. I already decided that, up on the cliffs. It’ll be me. Not her father. Me, fixing her, helping her, keeping her, once my brother and everyone else is dead.

“What, what is it?” She whispers, in that tentative voice.

I shake my head. My worries are mine, it’s not for me to burden her further, not now. She’s got enough on her plate as it is.

I reach for a towel, placing it in her hands. She clutches it, looking up at me with those wide, lost eyes. Before she has a chance to say anything more, I head to my room, pulling out a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

When I return, she’s still standing there, like she hasn’t dared to even breathe. I hand them to her and she takes them just as meekly as she did the towel. “Change into these.”

Oh, the baser part of me would happily strip her down, would happily clean her skin up and wash away all those last traces of Alexander. But I know that’s a step too far. We might be finally making headway, but one false move, one misstep and she’ll go running back to him, putting herself in even more danger.

I’m seeing glimpses now, hints that the real Scarlett is waking up. I can’t afford to be reckless. I can’t afford to fuck this up.

I step out of the room, gently shutting the door, giving her privacy as I lean against the wall, my head tipping back as I take a deep breath.

Fuck, what am I doing?

I’m playing with fire, I know that.

We had a plan. A damned good plan. And right now, I’m pissing all over it.

But I can’t stand by and watch her suffer alone anymore. I can’t be the cold, heartless bastard she wanted me to be. Not with her. Not now.

And I can see it, I’m losing her. All this abuse, all this horror – she thought she could withstand anything, the old Scarlett did. The brave, bold, defiant girl that agreed to do anything and everything necessary.

But the Scarlett before me now, the girl that’s beaten and broken, and drugged up to her eyeballs – no, she won’t last. Yesterday out on the cliffs proved that point.

A few minutes later she opens the door, tentatively looking out. I know logically I should let her go, should send her back to her room but if I do that I’ll be throwing her back to the wolves.

Besides, I’m not ready to let her go yet.

Selfish as I am, reckless as this is, I’m not willing to let my little bird out of my hands just yet.

These few precious hours I have before Alexander and my father return are just that, precious. I need to make them mean something, I need to give her hope, to ensure that fight in her doesn’t die before all the players are on the board.

She doesn’t protest as I lead her back into the bedroom. She sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes following me as I move around the room like she’s still waiting for me to turn into another monster.

I grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and hand it to her. “Drink,” I say gently.

She takes the bottle, her hands shaking slightly as she unscrews the cap. I watch her take a sip, her throat working as she swallows.

My t-shirt is swamping her small frame. She looks young, vulnerable. So fucking breakable.

I walk over to the bed, sitting down with her beside me. She tenses, her eyes darting to me, wary and uncertain.

I reach out, slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. Only, she doesn’t.

My hand cups her cheek, my thumb brushing gently against her skin as her eyes flutter closed at my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

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