Traces of Delilah

Twenty-Six

I gasped for air but none would fill my lungs. I was still dying. Was this the end?

"Breathe, Chastity. Please breathe for me," a voice soothed. Someone's hand smoothed down the baby hairs on the side of my head. Their image hadn't cleared up in my view yet, but I could feel them. Their breath hovered over me.

"Remember what I told you last time? Breathe. Focus on my voice and breathe." Andrew's words were similar to the ones he'd used during my first panic attack. When he and Skylar stayed by my side through the entire thing. I lifted my right hand, touching the soft curls that brushed against my forehead. My fingers fused into them gently.

His hair felt nice in my grasp. It was better than what I'd been struggling to rid myself of. I honestly didn't care what I touched. As long as I could feel something. Anything but the emptiness that filled my body and seduced my skin. I craved to feel again.

I could feel the air slowly easing back into my chest. One deep inhale and I found myself curling into the warmth, I assumed was Andrew, beside me.

"That's it. That's it, Chastity. Breathe and let it all out," he whispered.

I lost it and cried. I cried as hard as I could. Suddenly, I was lost in memories of my childhood. All the mental breakdowns I suffered from, the heartache I'd bear with, and the times I wanted to die consumed me then vanished. I was glad I hadn't ever gone through with it.

My fists clenched onto Andrew's shirt as the sobs shook my body. 

The lingering pain from the memory surged through my head. Then, my arms. Then, my legs. And finally, my fingers until I was numb. 

I wanted to try and sooth the pain but I hadn't wanted to let go of Andrew. Clutching onto him for dear life was keeping me sane. I was afraid I was free falling and nobody would be there to catch me, even though I seemed to be on the ground as Andrew crouched beside me.

I could see Silvia watching from the corner of my teary-eyed vision. She was hesitating. One foot was forward, the other foot was back, conflicted in whether she should have helped or left it alone. It was funny. For once, she was frightened for someone other than herself. I saw true fear. And it wasn't for Delilah. It was for me.

"You're okay. . . You're okay," Andrew whispered over and over, kissing the top of my head. The water flow began to stop. As my tongue dipped out of my mouth, I tasted the salty liquid drying on my cheeks. Eventually, I'd become a quiet quivering mess in his arms.

The information I'd learned had been reeling in my head now. 

It wasn't Delilah who killed her family. It was the carbon monoxide poison someone exposed them to. Yet that hadn't been stated in the articles. I didn't understand.

The gas leak was obvious. The sabotaged furnace was obvious. So, why wasn't it stated in the articles? Why? I wanted to know. Someone must've set Delilah up. It had to be. To make it look like a murder-suicide. It probably worked too. Delilah was the only one awake when it happened and the last person to die, apparently.

Julia—she was so shocked—so scared. 

I remembered her wide eyes falling over Delilah's body as I lay dying on the floor. She couldn't have been a part of that. She hadn't known about what Jace had planned. It was all pre-mediated by one person. The one person who put me at unease more than once.

"Are you feeling better?" Andrew's thumb circled over the back of my hand. The movements were slow and gentle. I convinced myself to nod. It was all I could do. I couldn't find my voice just yet.