🏆Wattpad's 1st and Only #Neo-Noir + #Multimedia Story
🏆 '18 Earnesty Writer Awards Hall of Fame
🥇1st Place - '18 Shining Star Awards - Action
🥇1st Place - '18 Ohana Awards - Action
"The Brotherhood separates humans from the animals, athletes fro...
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It was unfair how anxious a person could make Delilah in her own apartment, even when that person wasn't present.
She stared into the black mirror of a television, her stomach too tied up in knots to focus on anything television could offer. Her front door was unlocked, because any minute, Stella would waltz in as if the apartment was hers, and scold Delilah like a toddler. It was like waiting for her mother to get home after a call from the principal, except Stella wasn't blood and thus had a license to be merciless.
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After twelve minutes of staring at her murky reflection, she heard stilettos pounding against the concrete path leading to her front door.
Delilah pulled herself out of her body, watching the scene unfold from another person's perspective, as she couldn't experience the pain if she was disconnected from the receptors.
The doorknob rattled, the door creaked open, and Stella's voice roared across the room like that of a back-stabbed Army General.
Her tall body jolted to its feet, at attention. Remember, anything you say can and will be used against you.
The click clack of expensive shoes against a hardwood floor traveled down the hallway, and for the first time, Delilah wanted a panic attack. At least in her inner hell she knew what to expect, but not with Stella.
