Not Delilah

"You've got your music up so loud, you're going to go deaf!" Delilah's mother yelled.

"Maybe I want to go deaf." She said under her breath.

"What was that? Why would you want to go deaf?" She turned to her mother now, not watching the distant cars whiz past the window and avoiding her mother.

"So I wouldn't have to hear your voice again." She said, never letting her eyes leave her mothers. Her mother was dumbstruck. She almost didn't stop at the set of red lights ahead and almost rammed into the back of the car in front.

"Why would you say something like that to me?" Her mother finally asked, voice quiet and low. But Delilah wasn't about to answer. She pointedly turned away again from her mother and stared out the window at all the happy, passing people, wishing she could be one of them. She didn't regret her words; in fact she was happy that she finally got them out. But she was definitely afraid of the consequences.

Things hadn't always been so bad between Delilah and her mother, but you could say the same thing about every other relationship she'd been able to maintain lately. She was angry at everything. For what? Even she didn't have a clue. All that she knew is that she didn't want to talk about it.

She'd been on her own for all this time, so why let anyone intervene now? Her mother had picked up on this behavioural change some weeks ago. Little things hinted a change, like how she didn't talk or smile much anymore, or how she didn't go out, or sit with the family at the dinner table. She just stayed locked up in her room all this time. But this was the tipping point.

"What is going on with you, Delilah? You've changed." Her mother wanted so much to talk to her daughter, to connect with her. But Delilah had other ideas. She finally decided that she was going to be one of the seemingly happy people, shopping in her city.

She suddenly opened the car door, thankful that the inner city traffic had slowed to a stop. She got out and slammed the door behind her before her mother even realised what she was doing. She hopped across the street, dogging the cars, ignoring the screams from the blue van behind her, stuck at the red light. The middle aged, blonde woman was frantically undoing the manual window on the other side of the car and was screaming for the dark haired girl to get back in the car. People were watching, interested and curious, but no one was going to do anything.

Today, her name wasn't Delilah, and that ugly car wasn't hers and that screaming woman was not her mother.

Today, maybe she'd be happy.

Unfixable

Her cold blue eyes were looking at me, but she was looking straight through me. She wasn't here with us in this room. She was within her mind, like the first time I saw her.

It was a small room that we sat in, four walls, like most others. It had a door on each side, coloured green with rotting paint. The walls were also decaying, coloured paint flecks falling to the ground with the slightest brush or breeze. There were no other items in the room besides the two chairs we sat on. We sat facing each other under the dim centre light.

"Speak to me." I said, but she didn't listen to me. She continued watching but not watching me. "Please, Melissa, please just speak." I begged.

"Don't call me that." She snapped, her eyes suddenly focusing on me.

"But that's your name."

"My name is not Melissa." Even though her tone implied aggravation, I was taking her speaking as good and kept pushing for more.

"Then what is your name if it isn't Melissa?"

"I have no name. I don't deserve a name." Her eyes suddenly became unfocused again, as she sank into her dream world.

"Everyone deserves a name. Everything in fact." She didn't want to answer me again. "Why don't you think you deserve a name."

"I don't think, I just know." I wanted to continue, to search deeper. I thought I had made progress. But suddenly she stood up. "I have to leave."

"But why?" I asked, jumping up as well. I didn't want her to leave. I was afraid of what she might do if I left her.

"I need to go now." She turned to leave, but suddenly looked lost, undecided to which door she should take. "i need to leave. Let me leave." She directed her frustration to me, blaming me.

"Please don't leave. I want you to stay." She spun around to face me, her full attention focused on me.

"You can't save me. You're just another one of the boys who think they're in love with me. You think you can fix me and then we can be together and live happily ever after. But it just doesn't work that way. I'm broken and unfixable. So let me leave." I was stunned. All this time I've been trying to figure her out; trying to determine what was wrong with her. And yet in one go, she seems to have me figured out, just like that. Was I that easy to decipher?

"Wai, I-" I tried to give her some sort of answer, but my words were caught in my throat.

"No, don't. You don't need to explain yourself. I know you. I know your type. Just let me go. I don't want to be saved."

"But...you're drowning." With a sad look, she turned away from me.

"Maybe I want to drown." With those last words she took the first door she reached. I never saw that girl again.

My fault

"Is it bad that I haven't slept or eaten for three days?" I asked him. He turned to me with his beautiful eyes wide.

"What? Why not?" I didn't hear him though, when you're tired, many sense just seem to turn off when they want to.

"You have amazing eyes, has anyone told you that?" he was a bit surprised about my sudden change in topic, but he stood up, lifting me up by the arms as if I was simply a doll. He was a steady tree to my weak legs, and I lent against him when my body felt it didn't want to move again for a little while.

He realised I wasn't going to walk, so instead he lifted me up so easily and carried me in his arms like a child. I guess not eating might have payed off finally. I was lighter than a child possibly. His gorgeous face was all that I could see and the evening sun framed his face so perfectly. He looked like a golden angel, my saviour from my Hell. His sun kissed, light brown hair was lit up and his brown eyes were set straight ahead, filled with his concern.

Suddenly his halo was gone! It was dark, but in the afterglow I could still see the definitions of his face.

"Where are you going to take me?" I laughed, my words sounding funny on my lips. We were back at the car park, right at the door of his old, beat up car. He opened it so fluently while balancing me and put me in the passenger seat. How could we be back here already? It was over half an hour walk.

"I'm going to take you home. You're not well."

"I'm perfectly fine!" I said, suddenly angry at him. How dare he say I'm not well. He was trying to put my seat belt on me, but I shoved him away and put it on my self. He walked around and got into the driver's seat, only worry on his face.

"How can you say that! I've worked so hard to get here." My words didn't come out as clearly as I had intended them, and he looked at me differently this time. Was he sorry for me?! Of course there was sadness and worry in him, but there was something more. He pitted me didn't he! He didn't reply. He wasn't ignoring me, he just couldn't answer me.

"Let me out!" I yelled. "Stop the car." This got him talking.

"What, no! I can't stop. Please just stay in the car. We're almost home."

"No I want to get out!" I screamed, banging on the door. I couldn't find the handle to the door in the darkness and I leaned forward trying to see. It was a bad idea though, because instantly I felt sick. I sat up quickly and the world was spinning. The bright lights in the streets didn't to much to help either.

"No don't!" he yelled, grabbing my shoulder and throwing me back against the seat.

"Stop it!" I screamed. "What's happening to me?" I pressed my hands against my head and lent against my knees, but nothing could stop the pain.

"Please, just calm down." he tried his best. He truly did love me, because no one would care as much as he did. I was sobbing now, but I could hear his soothing voice perfectly. "We're almost ther-" I could also hear the other car ram into the side of ours. I can still hear it perfectly, ringing in my ears.

I woke up the next day in hospital, blurry faces watching above me, moving too quickly for my mind. I tried to rub the black stars away from my eyes, but I couldn't move my arms.

"What's going on?" I asked. I got my answer a few hours later from the doctor caring for me. He wasn't watching the road, he was to busy watching me. The other car had run a red light. They got away with just a broken arm. He cared for me so much, and I was barely awake to notice. I'll never get to show him how much I love him now.

I had been so determined to be perfect for him, but without him here anymore what do I have to live for? I know it's melodramatic, but how could you possibly know what I'm going through. I broke a couple of fingers and my nose, but otherwise I'm alive and well.

This just goes to prove my whole theory. Everything I ever put my all into is always taken away from me. But there's more. Every single time it's been my fault. Always only my fault.