I don't really have much to say. I'm sorry for making you all wait I guess, I can't promise that updates will be coming any easier since a bulk of my assignments are due really soon.
But I promise I'll try my best to not let you wait too long.
I hope you're all doing well and that you like this chapter. If you do, say so. And if not, also say so with constructive criticism, I'm always looking to improve.
In the meantime I've uploaded a poetry book called preach. so you can also check that out.
love, ruth(more or less) xx
song: beyond amends by Gus Dapperton word count: 1,024 words
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WHY DID THE earth seem to squeeze her heart in the attempt to cause relentless agony?
In the presence of cold concrete walls and clean bloody hands; trapped by pieces of chilling signs of the sins she's caused, she is silent. She is silent yet so loud and her mind gruels her towards death as questions are hurled at her head. It is hypnotising, the way her mind lulls her towards instruments and leads her through strategies which could pause the pain momentarily. Dalileh has no grasp on reality other than the cool pressing of the metal into her wrists.
Her face has shown no expression of breaking her skin even as blood trickles slowly around the carbon steel bars. It drips onto her school skirt, her hands tucked underneath the table. A breath of slight relief is released when the police officers no longer ask why. Her eyes have remained closed since she arrived; she can not bear the sight of this place. It causes her heart to race. Yet still, she is forced to open them at the harsh request of a police officer. When she wrenches them open she is confronted with consequences for her actions.
A bleeding boy sits in front of her in a darkened baby seat; the embodiment of a terror filled night. Her eyes widen at the sight and she wants to shout but her voice is wedged in depths of her throat. Dalileh's mouth is loosely open as tears build up on the brim of her terrified bloodshot eyes; she cannot concentrate on the relentless requests for her attention by blue faced men. Shaking hands tap relentlessly against her thigh as she attempts to brokenly voice their ignorance to the life being seeped out of him right in front of their eyes.
How could they not save him while he's right there?
You were right there, why didn't you save him?
"Save him! Please p-please I'll do anything," the girl blurts out in a shout as she stares at the police officers whom had been completely interrupted mid-sentence.
They stand unmoving and Dalileh internally shivers from her fear of him dying again, "Why aren't y-you doi-doing anything?!," she cries with broken syllables. One police officer approaches her and she wants to shout that he's going in the wrong direction as the sounds of his shoes upon the ground infiltrate her mind.
He kneels beside her and calmly says, "I can't see anything can you tell me what you're seeing?"
Dalileh furrows her eyebrows unable to understand the overwhelming heaviness upon her heart as death whispers, 'You killed him, don't you remember that?'
She shakes her head and turns to the police officer, "I didn't k-kill him I swear I didn't."
"Who didn't you kill?" he responds inquisitively.
"I didn't kill him... I didn't kill Omar I promise. I love him so much" Dalileh murmurs softly as the tears drop and she places her head on the cold table in attempt to find comfort. The police officer slowly places a hand on Dalileh's shoulder, pausing for a few moments before attempting to provide solace to the grieving.
He then waits until she is reduced to sniffles and in the periphery of her hearing she overhears him asking, "Can I take her out to the front of the station? It's not a good idea to keep her here. Her wrists are bleeding." She zones out afterwards only partially listening to the mutterings that follow until she's nudged and told to stand up. Dalileh drags her feet into a standing a position while her head hangs low staring at the concrete ground; the chilling atmosphere making goosebumps rise as the air brushes her skin. Why won't this end? Why can't I end?
The questions endlessly play in her mind as she shuffles outside the room she'd been captured in. A short passing of light causes her to squeeze her eyes shut painfully and hisses at the burning sensation that follows. "Why'd you punch the girl?" the second officer attempts to gruel her once more.
Tiredness floods Dalileh's body suddenly and she responds quietly, "She called me a murderer." She refuses to expand on it and sits down on the hypothermic chair; no uttered protestation.
"You're lucky the mother decided to not press charges," the second police officer answers with a certain smugness upon his face.
"She can press charges on you for unfair treatment Jensen. Get off your high horse and leave the room if you're going to continue this way," the first police officer remarks on Dalileh's behalf. A scoff is emitted and then the slam of a door is heard as the second officer leaves. Dalileh stares at the medicinal white wall as the handcuffs are taken off her wrists with a click and are disinfected. She hisses accordingly as the disinfectant touches her wounds and as the white bandage is wrapped around them tightly.
The second police officer – Jensen – enters the room once more and says, "Her parents are up front. She can go now."
Silence is renewed with a doom lacing itself into Dalileh's heart as she approaches her parents. They've given birth to tragedies. Why did you keep me after that night?
Her mother embraces her and asks while inspecting her face with her fingers, "Are you okay?"
On the other hand her father stands placing his arm on Dalileh's shoulder in reassurance and solidarity. They walk away from the police station into the gloomy clouded afternoon. When within the confines of their equally posh car a facade cracks and Dalileh stares dazedly outside the window throughout the car ride. Her mother speaks tiredly, "You got suspended for two weeks. No leaving the house. You'll be going to therapy starting next week."
Dalileh doesn't argue about it and only nods in silent agreement. Why am I still here?
Questions continue to haunt her as she rests upon the window of the car and allows her eyes to flutter shut; slowly yet heavily weighed down once settled. As though doom weighed upon her eyelids and seeped into her soul.
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