❝IN WHICH, IT IS A COLD DECEMBER IN LONDON, AND SNOW ISN'T THE ONLY THING THAT'S FALLING. HE'S FALLING FOR HER AS WELL.❞
Will Delilah Fitch be nothing more than a dance to remember?
It was almost as if the winds stopped, the snowflakes ceased in mid air, the mindless chattering of the people in the bus was muted, and his own heart beat seemed to stutter and die.
Her fingers! Her usually soft, fragile fingers were covered with red and white blisters, and they were dripping of blood.
A yellowish substance that looked like pus was seeping out, and Parker could feel his throat going very dry at the sight.
She looked like she hated the universe for everything it brought down upon her.
Parker rushed forward and he wordlessly pulled her down to their seat. The people in the bus stared at her with sad eyes until she could sit down. However, they turned away as soon as Parker sat down next to her.
It was almost as though they knew she would be fine with him
Parker's mind went into over drive. It took all his energy for his brain dish out robotic commands.
Clean the wound. Soak in cold water. Dry lightly. Apply the burn cream. Wrap the bandage cloth.
And he repeated this until all ten fingers were covered safely. Until the blisters weren't visible. Until he could finally breathe.
"Delilah?"
She turned around to face him, with jerky movements. Her face was blank, her eyes were lost, and her mouth was slightly parted.
"Delilah. Does it still hurt?"
She looked at Parker as though he was a stranger.
"Why?" she whispered at last.
And this one question had Parker feeling all kinds of sad.
"Why me? What have I ever done to deserve this?"
Parker didn't say anything, for he didn't know the answer. He didn't know why the universe was so cruel to someone like Delilah.
It was an unforgivable crime. A sin of prodigious magnitude.
"I'm sorry Delilah, I don't know - "
She shook her head and it silenced him. "You don't understand," she said, in a pained voice. The tell tale signs of tears were appearing. The wobbling lip, the upward curve of her eyebrows. "It was different this time."
The tears were pooling up now, and Parker immediately moved forward.
"Please don't cry."
He said the aforementioned statement because he felt like there was absolutely nothing in this world, not the winds, nor the stars, nor the waves upon the ocean, that were worthy enough of Delilah Fitch's tears.
Delilah's tears weren't made of salt, no.
(they were slivers of the moon; they were droplets of liquid platinum; they were the goddamn fuel that the universe ran on, and he wasn't willing to let her waste them)
But the tears still flowed down, at a very alarming pace. "It was different this time," she repeated.
Parker understood. Delilah never really cried whenever anything happened. She was always seen with that pleasant smile affixed on her face.
So something must have been different this time.
Delilah sniffed and Parker raised an eyebrow in question.
"She was sober this time."
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a/n
i absolutely hate any kind of abuse, smh.
thank you for wishing me luck in my exams, and I hope you're all enjoying the book. the end of near, btw.
