Sorry Not Sorry

Chapter 40

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I watch in frozen horror as Delilah takes her time stepping down, setting one heeled boot in front of the other before straightening up and peering down at us. I tense up as Jack grabs my shoulders and pulls me behind him.

This cannot be happening.

No. No.

In a flash I see her silhouette against the kitchen door, the gleam in her eyes manic. I feel a jab of animosity and then even a bit of pity manages to snake its way up my spine.

She is unstable, and she doesn't know what she's doing. She was on meds...That's why my dad divorced her years ago, wasn't it?

That all combined with the unimaginable stress and sorrow from the failed marriage? It must have driven her over the edge, and right into insanity.

She wants to make someone pay for what she's been put through, and those eleven years spent in jail must have taken a major toll on her.

She must have been sitting on the events of that one night just like I've been. Biting her nails down to the beds and replaying the events of that day over and over again in her head.

But there's a clear difference between us. She may have been driven past the point of no return, thinking about how she should have finished me off. Taken that knife and plunged it right through my own beating heart. So that way, there may not have been any witnesses. So that way, she herself could move on. Maybe she was tethered because of me.

However, I am not a phsycopath. Delilah might have started off all innocent, but deranged and detached from herself is who she has become, and its no wonder.

I hope my father didn't know, couldn't know, what type of person she was when they were together, what type of family she came from. I would expect nothing else, just comparing her to Mr. Travels, her male counter -part.

So...Lost in the drink and under heavy influence. Roiling in money, revered by most but manipulative and abusive towards all those that you're supposed to love and protect with all your life: Your wife, your fucking children!

But he doesn't care. And neither does Delilah.

No.

She's here to finish what she started eleven years ago. She's here to burst right through the "normal" bubble I've created for myself. That bubble where I told myself,

"I'm just like everyone else."

But especially messed up.

I think of all of this as I watch Delilah descend the slope and slide down the dirt-hill. She comes to a halt at the bottom, flicking something out of her pocket. Something sharp.

A pocket knife.

I stumble backwards into Jack and he holds me up, walking/dragging me away with him. As far away as possible from the bottom of the slope where she stands.

I look up at the sky, partly expecting and coming to grips with everything that has happened. Praying to some sort of higher power that...I'm good enough to go to wherever the saints go. But I'm definitely no saint, and I've messed up in life. But only because its messed with me first.

I sniff and inch backwards a little more, watching as Delilah walks closer and closer towards us.

Mom? Dad? Is this what it felt like for you? Because no one should have to go through this, no one.

I squeeze my eyes shut. There's nowhere to run to, and nowhere to turn. Jack pushes up against the edge of a jagged piece of boulder and snaps open his eyes. He realizes we're trapped, and that Delilah is holding her little knife up. Her expression is blank. I suspect stabbing me is something she's fantasized about, that she knew she was going to do.

Maybe she even felt like she had to do it, in order to move on. Because she sincerely is a sick, sick human being. And the fact that people like her exist makes me fear for humanity.

Jack holds onto my waist and very gently squeezes it.

"Remember what I promised? I'm not letting her come anywhere near you."

I mutely and numbly nod. Then I look up at him, keeping my back pressed to his chest.

"What-"

Before I can finish my sentence, he pushes me off of him, dives down and grabs Delilah by the hand. She shrieks and the way her hair frizzes around her face makes her look truly, truly deranged. Like a feral cat. One that I would feel sorry for if I didn't know how far those fangs sunk in.

I let out a shriek of my own, but it feels separate and detached from my body. I can't even believe that sound came out of my own mouth.

Delilah swings her pocket knife dangerously close to Jack's throat and I hear a shout from over the top of the small hill, stemming from Mr. Travels. A small part of him does care whether or not his son lives or dies, but apparently in what state is of no concern.

Delilah pushes back and brings the knife down to plunge into Jack's arm. He pulls away with shuddering breath and falls down on the dirt floor.

Delilah stands above him with a blank expression. Her empty gaze moves from Jack to me and then back again.

I cover my mouth and squeeze my eyes, brushing back escaping tears. I usually have a snappy comeback for every situation, but I have no reply to whatever's going on now.

Delilah brandishes her knife as Jack winces in pain. I cringe at the sound and make a move to help him, but Delilah stands in front of him with crossed arms.

She steps forward, slowly, almost uncertainly. She must have a sense of release at this, getting to me after having the very thought biting away at her, consuming her and keeping her up most nights.

She takes that final theatrical step forward and I break down. I quit.

I fall to the floor and bury my face in my hands. It's funny how before this I was obsessed with boy drama and all caught up with Paige and Noah and Jack.

I was trying to live like any normal teenager, but I should have known that was impossible. Why did I do that? Why was I so stupid? Maybe something I could have done differently could have prevented this.

And furthermore, I didn't need to drag Jack into this, but it has always concerned him.

He is, after all, Delilah's nephew.

I sit there with my palms pressed to my eyelids, hot energy radiating off of me. Ready to die.

But the blow never comes. I look up and see Delilah has disappeared.

I crawl forward on my knees to glance around and see a large cherry colored vehicle pushing Delilah's car off the edge of the mound and into the ditch. I see Delilah run forward, trying to push the car up and abandoning her knife on the ground.

I see Mr. Travels angry red face, flashing lights and then...

Noah.