𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐡 // Dreamwastaken x oc

♪EIGHT♪

Stygian

        (¸.·'*    extremely dark, gloomy, or forbidding

Delilah lay on the floor of her bathroom attempting to steady her breathing.

in, hold, out. in, hold, out.

She'd been doing this for twenty minutes after she stopped crying. She didn't want to think about the cause of her panic attack yet; she didn't want to face the truth about why the voices had returned or why she suddenly felt so insecure. Thinking about things too hard at the moment made her feel nauseous. 

As Delilah lay still on the floor, inhaling and exhaling, her doorbell rang.

great.

She staggered to her feet and winced when her head spun as though she'd just come off a rollercoaster. She needed to sleep.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt even more queasy. Although her vision was hazy,  she could see that her cheeks were stained with smudged mascara and her eyes were red and puffy. 

whatever.

Delilah trudged out of the bathroom and down the hall towards the door to her apartment. Who wanted to speak to her at... whatever time it was? 

She carefully unlocked the door and opened it a crack so she could see who was standing on the other side.

To her surprise, it was a little old lady.

"Hello there?" Delilah spoke, cringing as her voice wavered. 

"Hello dear," the lady said.

"I just wanted to ask if you could possibly turn your music down a notch? I live next door you see and I'm having a little trouble sleeping," She explained.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I should have turned it off, or down, I- I was just a bit um, sidetracked..." Delilah rambled. Her voice was still unstable.

"Are you alright, darling?" the old woman asked, sounding rather concerned.

"Oh, y-yeah I'm fine," Delilah said.

"Are you sure? You don't seem it,"

"I- yeah. I'll be alright. I'll just go turn the music off, I'm so sorry to bother y-" 

"You've been crying, you poor thing! Here, I'll come in and you can tell me about it, alright?" the lady said.

Normally, Delilah wouldn't let a stranger into her apartment; but she had a good feeling about this woman, and she needed to talk to somebody. Badly.

"O-okay," Delilah stammered.

She opened the door further and let the woman into her apartment.

"I'm Maggie, by the way. Maggie Miller," 

"Nice t-to meet you, I'm Delilah,"

"Delilah! What a gorgeous name," Maggie smiled.

Delilah forced a smile onto her face.

Maggie sat down on the couch and looked over at Delilah.

"Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee... I think I have some hot chocolate maybe..." Delilah said.

"No no, not to worry dear. Come, sit," Maggie patted the space next to her on the couch. The room was only lit by a candle on the kitchen counter, but any more light would make Delilah's head throb. She took a seat next to Maggie and sighed.