The Detective and Her Bachelor

Chapter 40

It was still dark in the house when I left Nat standing in the editing bay, decision made. A decision that left me rattled, unraveled, unsettled and a thousand other slivers of painful things that left me off kilter. 

The darkness matched my insides, tugging at the parts of me that used be gentle, soft, and uncalloused. But now were covered in scars, cuts, almost unrecognizable in their transformation. Darkness tattoos itself on us, highlighting the parts that we are desperate to hide. 

I had never been so thankful for the sabotage I had caused, thankful that the darkness hid the angry set of tears that threatened to stream down my face as I bolted down the hall. The lights weren't coming back. Not for far longer than I had originally promised. 

It was one of the only things holding me steady. No camera or microphone could capture me, but even with that truth, I was left feeling watched, the dark shadows snaking across the halls in greedy succession.

Keep it together, Delle. 

I was so distracted, my mind filled with a tapestry of worries made of up Andrew, Allie, Misty, Luke and Decker that I didn't realize that someone else was in the hall until I nearly collided with them. 

"Delle?" Prism said, her voice startling me with how utterly soft it was. 

I took a step back, looking at her standing outside her door, long blond hair almost luminous from the moonlight coming in from her doorway. Her tone matched her face, filled with concern. 

"What?" was all I managed as I stared back, taking a moment to organize my face into a glare. "I'm not in the mood to be snarky with you right now Prism. So save your... dramatics for the camera."

She shoved her hands into her sweatpants pockets. I did a double take, the sight of her in sweatpants almost made me laugh. "You're wearing sweatpants."

Prism looked down at herself with a shrug, like the idea of sweatpants wasn't something to worry about. "So?"

"They're grey... they don't even have rhinestones," I said gesturing to her sweatpants like evidence. 

She wrinkled her nose, looking irritated. "I wear other things besides... pink and rhinestones, Delle. It's a TV persona thing. I work at a freaking flower shop for my day job. And there are no cameras right now."

"What do you want, Prism?" I asked when she didn't move out of my way. I was too tired for whatever angle she was trying to play.

She sighed, moving to run her fingers through her hair but stopping when she realized her hair was up in a messy bun. She had no makeup on, and wore a battered black tank top. Prism stared at the ground, brow furrowed, shifting from foot to foot, looking almost unrecognizable in her transformation to gentle and approachable. It made me instantly wary.  "I heard what happened... tonight." 

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes in a death glare. "Do I even want to know how you found out?" I scoffed. "Scratch that. Just keep your gossip methods to yourself. I don't have the energy for your cat nails right now." I shoved past her. 

"I'm sorry..." she said, the words tumbling out of her. 

Her words surprised me. "Sorry?" I repeated, turning back to stare at her like she had just admitted that a pile of trash would make for a pretty princess dress. 

Prism nodded, looking embarrassed. She held up her hands, showcasing that her long nails were no longer on. She must have used press on scary long nails. Now they were simple, unpainted, human length nails. "See... normal, non cat nails. No scratching."

Her hands dropped, and she sighed. "What they did to you... was messed up." Her eyes flashed with an anger I had never seen. "That's beyond reality tv bull and... well I just wanted you to know that it wasn't okay... So much of this... isn't okay."