Two doors down | 5SOS

Four

"See, was that so hard?" Marcy scoffs as Delilah enters the house- with a small smile, after being escorted by Luke.

"No, ma'am." Delilah answers, cheeks blushed and eyes focused on the ground.

"Is it fixed?" David asks.

"Mhm." Delilah hums quietly, hating the switch from a happy fun environment to the cranky drab one her grandparents create in their home.

"Well then get to work, you're falling behind." Delilah nods and scurries into her room while hearing the couple whisper about how immature and childish she is and how they would've expected their daughter to do better raising her.

Delilah wipes at her teary eyes, holding back sobs as she sits down in the bay windows window seat, glancing over at the black and white house of the men she enjoyed just minutes ago.

She looks back to her screen and begins the school work, despite the screens blurriness from the tears falling from her eyes.

"Stop talking about me." She whimpers to herself as she hears her grandparents continue to bad mouth her. "I'm sorry. It's not my fault."

Her mother hasn't called yet today, and it's past her lunch break, Delilah realizes before heaving a sob. She's too sad.

Death would be better than this, she lets herself think for a moment.

"No, stop it." She scolds herself. Plenty of people have it way worse and are much tougher to their situation than she is. David and Marcy are right, she needs to stop being a baby.

Except, how?

Delilah sighs and hums to distract herself as she works on her school work. This continues for hours before she comes across an English assignment she has no idea how to even approach, let alone complete well and get a good grade on.

Delilah shuts her laptop with frustrated tears and a huff, deciding that life must hate her, at least a little bit. Why else would it take her only person to rely on away and put her here with her grandparents and difficult school work and gray walls.

No. Don't be so pessimistic. She reasons with the dreary side of her brain.

At least I have food. At least Marcys cooking is really good. At least no one hurts me physically. I have a roof over my head, and a bed to sleep in.

Her self reminders don't work and she ends up sobbing into her pillow until late at night.

Marcy and David never come get her for dinner, and at 12, (way past her designated bedtime), Delilah finds a protein bar and juice and has that for a meal before going to sleep.

In the morning, Marcy wakes Delilah up at 8.

"How much school did you get done yesterday?" She asks accusingly.

"Mmm, I worked til about 8." Delilah mumbles sleepily as she sits up, rubbing her teary blue eyes.

Marcy scowls. "That's not much. You'd better get more done today, but first, this morning David and I have to go somewhere. I want you to take the bus and get all the groceries. There's a list on the fridge, along with money. There should be leftover money, I expect it back on the fridge when we get home."

"You w-want me t-to go to the s-store by-by myself?"

"Yes, you're 14, almost 15 Delilah, I think your able. Don't argue with me."

"Msorry." Delilah pouts, huffing a little, because it's much too early for this. Her eyes want to close and her head hurts from crying.

"As soon as you're back I want you to get to work in school work."