The Cursed Road Between Them

10| cursed

A chapter being brought to you by the small gaps in time where I've been awake for the past two days.

I hope you enjoy this one although it might not seem like a lot. But it's some more bread crumbs to help you piece together what's going on.

Just a notice that the italic dialogue is me being unable to translate to Farsi because I didn't want to translate it incorrectly by any chance. In the future when I've become more educated I'll put down the translations.

Also if I've misrepresented PTSD in any way do let me know. I did research.

This chapter is dedicated to settledowncam for being amazing. Lots of love Cam ❤️

Anyways, you know the drill.

Have a good day and see you all next week for another chapter hopefully.

Love,

ruth (more or less) x

word count: 1,066

SHE WALKS IN the winter cold, hopeless, and cursed.

With flushed cheeks and shaking hands the truth is repeatedly written in her mind. Every fibre of her existence has fated her to damnation and contrition has weaved itself into her bones beside the cold. Frosty air leaves her mouth from the shake which racks her body; she pulls her jacket tighter around her. Her shoulders are hunched in order to provide even an inch of warmth to her neck. Dalileh opens the door to her house with fumbling fingers and finally steps into the warmth.

The warmth travels through the vent in the ceiling and the girl knows her mom has turned on the heater throughout the house. Nonetheless, Dalileh still slightly shakes as she patters through the house after taking off her shoes. She greets her mother whom is in the kitchen once more, "Salam Mama."

Her mother displays a small smile as she picks up a spice from the pantry. "Do you want to taste this when it's done? Also I want to talk to you so come sit." Dalileh nods and makes her way to the kitchen bench as she takes note of the pungent aroma of caramelised onions sitting in a fry pan.

Her mother continues moving around the kitchen for a while; Dalileh feels herself begin to slip away. She holds onto the kitchen bench as though it'll make the disassociation cease. The only lasting sound in the kitchen is the sound of fire and an occasional air bubble pop. A hand settles over hers and she looks up at her mum with confusion. But before she can question the gesture her mother asks, "I've been going to therapy and I know you've been through a lot more than I have. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go to a therapist and I guess talk about things?"

Dalileh's eyes widen having broken eye contact with her mom. She ponders in silence; do I deserve it?

Then in a voice reflecting her vulnerability she asks, "Can I get back to you on it later? I need time to think about it."

"Of course, it's not easy deciding to ask for help. I'll be here when you're ready. I'll put you a plate of food?"

Dalileh only nods, seemingly consumed by the proposition that has been made to her. An opportunity that she thought disappeared when she came back from rehabilitation. On autopilot the girl eats the plate of rice and chicken with caramelised onions sprayed atop. Her mom asks amidst eating, "Does it taste good? I put different spices this time."

Dalileh hears the smile before she sees it and although it should bring tranquility to her mind it only brings sadness. How can you be this way after he passed away Mom? Why have I been grieving him for so long?

Swallowing the rice in her mouth her voice shakes as she says, "It was great Mom. I loved it."

"Are you okay Dalileh?"

Dalileh only hums in response unable to speak anymore. She finishes the plate of food and thanks her mother with a kiss on her cheek. Then, she climbs the stairs and slips into her room. Heaviness weighs her down more than gravity and her body gives in falling onto her bed. Her fingers slowly pull on her blanket then rest a bit to gather the energy to pull it over her body. Dalileh's breath seems to escape her and she finds herself gasping in order to gain any oxygen inside of her.

She can hear his tiny laughs, then the screams that haunt her nightmares; the crying that filled the air. Her screaming for him to stay alive in the cold December night; tearing her limb to reach his seat. Pleads tumble from her mouth as she screamed for help and searched for her phone. No no no no, I can't find my phone. The blood trickled onto her arm from him and the tears had overflowed. Relief hadn't arrived to lighten the weight on her shoulders when she heard Egon talking to emergency operators.

She hadn't even bothered to check if he was okay, her only focus being the three year old in front of her. His eyes were starting to flutter shut and she had tried to keep them open by trying to talk him awake. The growing bloody puddle underneath her hadn't bothered her even as her brother's skin slowly began to turn cold.

No, no, no, don't go. You can't go Omar. "Stay awake Omar baby. We're going to get out of here" she had said sobbing as she hugged him. "Dali you're bleeding you need to let him go and sit" he had said. She only shook her head. No, no, no, I'll never let you go Omar. I promise. Even as her breath shallowed she only held on tighter to the tiny cold corpse beneath her. She rejected his death deluding herself to feel warmth beneath her fingers.

You're going to be okay. We're going to make it out of here. A pair of arms wrap around her and the blanket she's swallowed in. The figure whispers "You're going to be okay Dalileh. I'm here for you. We'll make it out together."

Dalileh holds onto the warmth of life that her mother supplies to her. She allows herself to be a child for a while as she contorts herself to become smaller. Her mother keeps her arms wrapped around her and tells her, "Breathe with me. You need to match your breathing with mine. Come on you can do this. The monsters won't come anymore. I'll fight them off."

Dalileh nods deluding herself to believe the tale that her mother used to tell her when she had been scared of the monsters under her bed. She inhales and exhales at the same time that her mom does. It forces her heartbeat to slow down as she does nothing but focus on the warmth. For a moment it seems that every fibre of her that's damned to damnation has allowed her to slip into a post-traumatic sleep filled with bliss.

She hears his laughs all night as he plays with the water at the beach. Towards the end he stands, smiling at his sister and says, "thank you for pwetty fowers." He hugs her tightly and it's with this that she awakens the next morning crying.