my delilah

01

Her life was a drag, she realized as she, like so many times before, walked down Milano Street and towards her own apartment. Her vision was blurry, but she wasn't crying; the wind blew cold and caused her eyes to tear up, or at least that was what she told herself.

It was late, and usually she didn't like to set foot outside at that time, but she had to get away from Wick and his attitude. She thought of calling her closest friend Angelica, but then she remembered the last call between the two on a night much like that one; "what did he do this time?" had she said, and Delilah had been too struck with the confrontation to respond in any way at all, and then irritation had hit her. Just now did that memory reason with her – there was a strong sensation of déjà vu attached to walking down that street with tears in her eyes at the late hour, and when the cold wind blew into the sleeves of her large sweater she realized it was becoming a painful habit.

She hadn't been in her own apartment for about a week at that point, and it felt lonelier than ever when she closed the door behind her, hearing its echo ringing through the small home. She set the keys down on the counter and took off her boots, shrugging off her jean jacket before wiping at her eyes. Just the sight of her bed and the lack of bedsheets made her tears turn from sad and tired into the frustrated kind, realizing how much she just wanted to fall asleep and not wake up for a while.

The room was dark but she didn't want to turn on the lights, realizing she'd feel even more alone if she could see just how empty the home was. She hardly had any furniture yet, even though she'd lived in the apartment for more than six months. The reverberation that rang seemed to yell through the room at every movement. It made her feel isolated and tiny, in the most unpleasant way possible. 

She thought about it for a minute, wondering what had went so wrong. "It's just a girl's night," she muttered to herself as she tugged at the sheets aggressively, trying hopelessly to get everything ready so she could just go to sleep. She hadn't hung out with her friends for weeks, and when Angelica proposed a girl's night out, Delilah had been ecstatic, realizing that she probably needed some time with the people she so rarely met. When she got the news that a previous flame would show up, she'd been nothing but glad, seeing as the two hadn't met in years – it would be nice to catch up she'd thought. Wick hadn't been as excited as her, to say the least.

"What? Would you want me to run around with my ex-wife, out partying, huh?" he'd spat at her, and she'd just raised her eyebrows. It wasn't uncommon for Wick to act out like that, and she assumed it was something that came with their age gap – he was convinced she'd meet someone younger and leave him because of it, no matter how much she tried to assure him that wasn't the case.

"I trust you," she said, and he'd just chuckled coldly. "I trust that you wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"Really?" he said in an almost ironic tone, and somehow it hurt her, hearing him talk to her that way. Seeing how often they fought about the matter, she thought she'd have thicker skin by then.

"Yeah," she said, swaying as she felt the alcohol in her body do its work. She was definitely not sober, and she was well aware that it probably didn't help the situation at all. "What, do you think I'm going to go out and fuck someone else as soon as I get the chance? Do you not trust me at all? Do you not listen to me when I tell you how I feel about you?"

"Maybe it's not you that I don't trust," he said, but she just shook her head and laughed, with no joy stemming from it.

"Fuck you, Wick," she said, but it didn't seem to bother him much. "That's such a fucking lie, and you know it. You want to control me, and that's what this is about."