You're The Plague

Chapter 1

I wish my name was Johnny and I knew how to play the fiddle, then I wouldn't be in this situation. Given, I was the one to put myself into this situation. I need to pay off my student loans, I have bills, I was already $15,000 deep and working one jobs didn't cut. I had to drop out of college due to the fact that I didn't have the money to keep up.  I needed help and sometimes a deal with the devil is better than no deal at all.

Let me explain this more clearly, you must be wondering what the hell I'm talking about and why I'm even letting you read this. So many questions, yet not so much time. Let me start over, my name is Delilah.

I just about to finish my 6pm-3am shift at Wayside Cafe, Wayside was a 24/7 cafe, just off the freeway heading to Pocatello and Salt Lake City, Utah in a little town called Heyburn, Idaho. It was a slow night and I was tired. I sat at the bar, Resting my head on my folded arms. Time moving like molasses. I drifted in and out of consciousness,  this was one slow night.

"Delilah, booth for you," instantly I sat up, smoothed down all my fly away's from my pony-tail so it didn't look like I just woke up. I thanked Joyce for letting me know. Scanning the restaurant there was a man there. He didn't look out of place or anything, just sat alone on the left bench of the booth next to the window with his red hoodie and black baseball cap. Nothing special.

I walked over and placed the menu down, "Welcome to Wayside, I'm Delilah, I'll be your waitress for the night, can I start you off with anything? A water? Coffee?" That was the standard greeting. It usually just comes out automatically with the fake happiness and fake smile.

The man looked up at me with a small smile, but all I noticed were his beautiful almost forest green eyes. It was like looking in the at the pine trees up in the mountains, but something was off about them, that's the part that I couldn't figure out. Something didn't seem quite right. Like there was a distance in them, almost as if he wasn't completely here. Physically he was hear but his eyes were so dull that it was like his sole was gone. His eyes looked, well, almost like he was sick. Like a walking shell.

"Just a cup of coffee and a country style chicken fried stake please," the man said softly. I nodded, and, conveniently, his booth was directly seated across from the coffee machine. I swiftly turned around, grabbing the hot pot of coffee then turned back around to see he had taken off his hat, revealing shaggy almost dish water blonde, hair. I poured him the cup of coffee and placed the cup in front of him.

"Anything else I can get for you," I asked. Now examining his features. His eyes dull eyes darkening a bit.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me." This wasn't a question, this was a demand. My face heated up as I grabbed his menu off the table and took a step back, creating some needed distance.

"I'm sorry, your eyes are so, well, so pretty that I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. I'll get right on your food." With that, I quickly grabbed the remaining three up-side-down mugs on the table and placed them on the coffee machine. I calmly walked to the kitchen, feeling his eyes on me, and gave the ticket to thin and tattooed up Max, the cook for the night. After that I sat back down at the bar and still felt his eyes on me.

"Joyce, is that guy staring at me?" I asked her, she was behind the counter so she had a clear view of him. Her dark brown eyes glanced over at him then her usually sun-bed-tanned face fell as pale as mine. "What?" I asked, getting a little worried. What was she so shocked at?

"When you compliments a man's eyes you don't call them pretty. You say that the man is flat out  handsome." The once soft, but now deep and demanding voice stated. The hair on my neck stood at attention and my stomach lurched. I didn't need to turn around to know that this was the guy from the booth.

I sat there, frozen in place, what did he want?
Did I insult him by staring? Was he really that ticked?

"Oh so now you don't wanna stare at me, come on, Delilah, take a peak. Just one peak at me, we both know you want too and I don't mind looking at you." The tips of his fingers trailed up my spine and caused me to slump over a bit, his hands fingers were really warm, I can feel them through my shirt. My body felt heavy and relaxed, but flashing red lights were going off in my head.

"Delilah look at me." He said softly, but the command was there.

I lulled my head towards his direction, I wanted to look at him. I was nose to nose with the blonde man and his beautiful, scary, eyes. He had a very angled nose to go with his all around angular features. He was bending down too. He had to be tall to have to bend over to be nose to nose with me, even if I'm only five feet and two inches tall, the bar stool usually makes me about level with most men's head. He smirked, then slid on a bar stool next to me, his thin pink lips stretched in a larger than average smirk. It was too big to fit on his square face.

His dull eyes not matching his body language, tilting his head slightly to the right, body leaning towards me. HI found myself still fixed on his green eyes, those dull, lifeless, sickly, doll-like eyes. He moved and looked so alive, its just his eye were dead.

"Now, Delilah, what's troubling you? No one has that hard exterior shell and soft middle unless something is wrong." His voice sounded like soft piano music, soothing like, comforting and deep.

"I-" My eyes moved to Joyce, but before I could look at her for help a large hand was on my cheek, gently guiding me to look at the man's doll-like eyes.

"Don't look at Joyce, only me. What do you want, what do you need? What are you lusting for, Delilah?" His hand was warm on my face, rough, but warm. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek. It was like the touch of a loved one, full of warmth and care. Involuntary, I leaned into this strangers hand and held his hand there with my own.

"Money, I need money to get back into college, pay tuition, help with bills, and pay my debt," I said softly, hoping this warmth never left me.

"Mmm," the man hummed deeply, the warm hand dropped away and I let go of it. The man grabbed a napkin and a pen from his jean pocket and wrote down something before folding it neatly and placing it into my hands. "Don't tell anyone about this, Sweetheart. You're a beautiful looking young lady and I will see you again." I felt a cold spark of electricity run through my body as his cold lips rested against my forehead. The room started to spin as a cold chill  spread through me. My vision started to blur, black dots popped in and out of my line of sight.

Why can't I see anything?

Why am I so cold?

And why are my ribs burning?

Thank you so much for reading my story!

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