Traces of Delilah

Three

I didn't get much sleep.

It could've been because of the pounding headache I slept away or because I had the strangest dream. And in that dream, I wasn't myself. That's how I knew it had to be a dream.

I couldn't remember what time I fell asleep last night. It had to be after I slipped the bracelet on, because when I woke up, it was still secured around my wrist. But that wasn't what made the dream so weird and memorable.

A young man kept addressing me by a name that wasn't mine. What did he call me? Delilah. Yeah, that's what I believed the name was, from what I could remember. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five. But he couldn't have been any younger than eighteen either.

I couldn't tell where we were or who he was to me. It was weird. But it got even weirder. When he called me by that name, I responded? As if I knew him personally. The last time I checked, Chastity Blake was written on my birth certificate.

I frowned and flipped the French-toast in the pan, mumbling, "I don't even know anyone with the name Delilah."

"Are you talking to yourself?" Skylar's voice made me jump.

I quickly turned, stifling my fit of laughter as I took in the sight of her. "Man, you look like shit."

"Good morning, to you too." She flashed me a sarcastic smile.

I grinned. "It's going on one in the afternoon for your information."

"Seriously?" She yawned, plopping a seat behind the kitchen counter. I hummed in approval, watching her peel a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter. "Shit, it doesn't feel like it."

"At least you don't have to work today." I laughed and removed the French-toast from the pan, separating them on our plates.

She clapped her hands together and lifted them above her head. "Thank the heavens! No offense to the old man. Amazing boss, but not so amazing job." I rolled my eyes, my laughter growing louder.

I could only imagine how happy she was. 

Working in an antique shop could be as interesting as it could be boring. At least, that was how Skylar described her experience. She claimed she only kept the job because she didn't have to do a lot, but also complained that she spent most of the hours doing nothing. It was a weird logic.

"Speaking of working"—I set a plate of food in front of her—"you promised to take me job hunting today."

She shook her head. I could feel her eyes scolding me before she had the chance to open her mouth. "I invited you to live with me rent free and you still want to work all summer?"

"I may not be helping with rent, but you never said I couldn't help with groceries and stuff around the house."

"Touché." She sighed. "Okay. Well, I know just the place who's looking to hire right now. Just give me another two hours to wake up—oh! Where'd you get the bracelet?" she cut herself short and pointed to my wrist.

"Oh." I frowned. I forgot that was around my wrist. "I was going to ask you the same thing. It was on the floor in my room. So, I figured you'd know where it came from."

She frowned, shaking her head. "Oh, I have no idea. So, it's not yours?"

"No." I shook my head.

"I guess it's yours now if you want it." She shrugged and winked. "I have some stuff upstairs you can use to clean it. Give me a second. I'll go get it." I didn't have a chance to respond, because she was already gone.