Page 86 of Deliah
But inside, I was still spinning. Numb. Sick with the words Charlie had thrown at me like knives. Words that dug in deeper the more I tried to forget them. I stared ahead at the flickering candlelight, my voice trapped somewhere in my throat, wondering if Damion already knew what Charlie had said—and if there was any truth to it. But for now, I didn’t speak. I just let him hold me in the water. And tried to breathe.
Eventually, I stepped out of the bath, skin wrinkled, eyes stinging from more than just the water. Damion helped me into a clean oversized t-shirt and joggers, drying me gently with a towel like I might shatter in his hands. His touch was careful. Too careful. I could barely look at him. He walked me back into the bedroom, fingers still laced with mine like he was scared to let go. I paused by the bed, ready to collapse back into it—until I saw it. A dark stain on the pillow. Blood. My blood. It stared back at me like a reminder I hadn’t asked for. A slap of reality across the face. “There’s blood on the pillow,” I said quietly, almost to myself.
Damion stepped forward. “Don’t worry about that, baby. I’ll get some fresh sheets.”
But I couldn’t ignore it. That one patch of red shattered whatever numb calm I’d been clinging to. It was like everythingcracked at once—grief, anger, shame, all rushing in, and I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “No, Damion,” I said, backing away. “I’m going to my room.”
He froze. I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes—like he already knew what was coming. “Deliah, no. Where are you going?”
“Just leave me,” I said, voice sharp, shaking. “I need space.”
His brows pulled together, and he stepped towards me. “Deliah, please, just talk to me. Don’t shut me out.”
“I said leave me,” I repeated, softer this time, the edge in my voice dulled by the tears forming in my throat.
He didn’t move, but I didn’t wait for him to. I walked out and across the hallway, head pounding again, body heavy. I shut the door to the guest room behind me and sat on the edge of the bed, and the moment my fingers touched the mattress—I broke.
My whole body gave out, and I collapsed into a heap, sobbing uncontrollably. Chest heaving, heart splintering in real time. I buried my face in my hands and let it all pour out. The pain, the confusion, the doubt. He knocked once, then opened the door. I didn’t look up.
“Deliah,” he said quietly, walking in, “I can’t leave you in here crying like this. Please, talk to me.”
I couldn’t speak. I just sat there in a crumpled mess, trying to remember how to breathe.
“I know you’re hurting,” he said, kneeling in front of me. “I know you’re scared. But shutting me out won’t fix it.”
“I’m tired, Damion,” I whispered. “I don’t want to do this right now.”
“I know, baby, but I—”
And then it slipped out. The words I’d been choking on. “He said I was just another one of your whores, Damion.”
He froze.
“He said you’d use me, abuse me… and then throw me out for the next one.”
Damion’s mouth parted slightly. His fists clenched.
“Charlie’s a fucking idiot, Deliah. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
I looked up at him sharply, the tears still falling, rage now boiling under the surface. “Oh yeah? Then who the fuck is Layla?”
The silence was deafening. His face changed—guilt, shock, something dark flickering in his eyes.
I stood up. “Go on, Damion. You wanna talk? Let’s talk. Who the fuck is Layla?”
“Deliah, you’re upset. You hit your head. We don’t need to do this right now—”
“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me,” I snapped, voice cracking from the weight of everything. “Tell me the truth, Damion!”
He stayed silent. Eyes dropping. Breathing shallow. And that was it. That was the moment. That tipping point. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the jacket hanging from the door hook and stormed out of the room, fury pulsing through my veins.
“Deliah!” he shouted, chasing me down the hallway. “Stop—where are you going?”
“I can’t fucking do this anymore, Damion! I won’t be hurt like this again!”
“Deliah, please!” His footsteps echoed behind mine. “Just stop for one second—let me explain. She wasn’t what he said.”
I flung the front door open and walked down the driveway barefoot, not even noticing the cold.
