ATONEMENT || 𝟏𝟖+ [hiatus]

𝑖𝑣. 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒

──・・𖦁・・──

What the hell did I just agree to?

For as long as I've known her, saying no to Delilah has never been easy. It's not uncommon that what I'm agreeing to seems so outlandish at first, but I can always see it working out. I'm not so sure this time. It's not that I don't have faith in her, but I'm worried about the amount of emotional investment she has in this endeavor. More than anything, she wants to see Sam Wayne fall off of his high horse.

Of all the people she wants to target, of course it's the most psychotic bastard in the city.

I can't judge her though. If I were in her shoes, I'm sure I'd do the same as her. I know the surface level information of what happened; they broke up and he took over her company. Though I have no idea the exact details of what he could have done to unleash the fires of hell upon himself, why he'd want to hurt and betray a person with the level of intelligence she possesses. But he did, and it confirms to me that they were doomed from the start. It's like Icarus and the sun all over again, I'm just not sure who's drowning in this scenario.

My attention is pulled from this specific train of thought as a bell hanging above the coffee shop doors and a man with curly, gray hair walks in. He scans the room before setting his sights on his target...me. He walks over and though it's been years, he's just as I remember him: tired eyes, a flannel and blue jeans, and a limp from an injury he got when I was seven. Hank sits in front of me, a stay, silver curl falling in between his bushy brows. He's not old in the slightest. He just turned forty-five, but life has aged him far beyond his years.

"Hey."

He gives me a crooked smile, one that I inherited. "Hey."

"I was kind of surprised you called." I look away from Hank and his face that looks far too much like mine to a painting on the wall. It's abstract. I like it.

"Yeah." His laugh is as cold as the winter breeze. "How have you been? Haven't seen ya since we buried Marissa."

I tense at the mention of my mother. She's been dead and buried for six years, but the fear she struck into my heart persists. Just thinking about her makes me want to vomit. Instead, I just stare at him. "Yeah. Been a while, pops."

"How's that girl you were always talking about? Dayna, right? She's a model isn't she?" he asks.

"Her name's Delilah. She's..." I trail off. Do I have the right to speak on how she's doing? I don't know how she is. Last night she was emotionally devastated, but today she's reinvigorated and on a mission. She's always been like this to an extent, but never like this...I worry for her. "She's Delilah."

He nods for a moment before his thick eyebrows shoot up. "Delilah! She was dating Sam Wayne before he met his wife, wasn't she?"

"Unfortunately," I growl. "Why'd you call me here, Hank?"