Enrage Me [The Captive Saga Book 3]

Chapter 10 . Delilah Spencer

When I was a little girl, I lived inside of a house perched on a hill. You see, I was adopted into three foster homes in the space of three months. I'd been informed by my then foster family-Casey Nickal and David Nickal-that my biological parents were dead. However, at only nine years old, I knew the truth. They weren't dead at all. They abandoned me.

I lived in Brooklyn at this time. It was here that I met a very quirky twelve-year-old named Declan Nickal. His parents were not kind to him at all. They walked about their well-furnished living room with the leather couch on the right-hand side and wood-cracked kitchen floor as if they themselves were the sole owners of our freakin' universe.

I hated them with a passion. They both had bleached-blond hair(which looked gross) and whenever the she-devil and her husband even went in the vicinity of their son, Declan would flail and hyperventilate. I named those two Sybil and Satan just for that reason alone.

That's how I feel right now as I lay in an unfamiliar cyan-colored bed with sweat and tears coating my face and cheeks, as if I might stop breathing at any moment. I've never met Alexandria Reid in my life. Yet...

Her ocean-blues were trapped inside my head like glue. The evident desperation hidden within Alex's gaze haunted me with every erratic beat of my heart. I tried sitting up on the bed, but rapidly realized that I was restrained by white metal chains. What the fuck?! What is going on? As sunlight filtered through the beige windows, a high-pitched scream shattered out of me like broken glass.

"Declan? Mom? Dad? W-what's h-happening?!" I stuttered not from fear, but due to struggling in my bindings. No answer was given by either of them. My parents and foster brother held me down as if I were some wild animal just accidentally released from a cage.

"Hold her, Declan!" My mother commanded. Her eyes were somber, so much so that they were almost tear-filled. "Delilah, you had a seizure in your sleep, love. That hasn't occurred since infancy," my father explained. A seizure?! I don't have seizures! At least, not ones that required remembrance. "What? Was I hurting myself?" I queried, afraid of the answer.

My father looked exceptionally concerned and fearful. "Yes. In fact, you did. However, you hurt us, too." My mom and brother said absolutely nothing during this exchange of information. Both wouldn't gaze at me or even acknowledge my presence. I pulled loose strands of dark brown hair into a ponytail and extended a solitary left hand. "Show me," I whispered.

 All of my family members turned their weary expressions to me this time. "Delilah, baby, I don't think-"

"Daddy," my tone was hushed. "Please?"

I think they all heard the desperate plea that was my voice, which is why-one by one-they all turned, revealing their backs. Slash marks lined their backsides in large, synchronize motions, up and down like flowing rivers. Huge clumps of blood dripped down onto the brown-carpeted floor as if from a drain. "Oh, my God," I whispered, hoarse and broken. "What did I do?!"

 'That is through no fault of your own, dear cousin. Your parents are the catalyst for your recent lapse in memory."

Astrid Nicole Mcclain stood straight, poised, and was beautiful even in a rusty old doorway. Her eyes were so vivid, wide, and such knowledge laid beneath those glassy blues that they honestly terrified me. Astrid's flowing Shavon satin-green dress fit like a glove, but she herself complemented the gorgeous piece of attire with a seemingly effortless grace. "Astrid," I breathed.

Her mouth flew open and tears gathered in my cousin's irises. "You remembered."