The height difference was funny, if you thought about it. Probably; maybe. Probably not, Delilah concluded… that was something Jack would, probably, think — sounded like it was anyway, Delilah found Jack’s mind to be damn near unpredictable at times, she didn’t know her sisters mind, not like she said she did — and Delilah scolded herself for it.
At the same time, the way Marissa was… eyeing her made her feel uncomfortable (strangely). She felt like a piece of meat; or a fucking p r o s t i t u t e up for sale. She hated it but didn’t voice her annoyance — just accepted it… not really; she actually tilted her head downwards and gave Marissa a look. Delilah wouldn’t have done that if she realised just how much it made her look (exactly) like her step father.
People pointed that out all the time — the fact that they both have the same look about them. Delilah took minor revenge by imagining thirteen different ways in which she could kill them in the most painful way possible (imagined it everytime; both the person and her step father).
Holding a grudge was a speciality of hers, she knew that. Everyone who knew her, knew that.
Watching Marissa hoist herself up from the ground, Delilah debated following her but she couldn’t think of a reason to move from where she planted herself. Besides, if she was constantly staring at Marissa, she might just go i n s a n e (from not being able to touch her… probably). So, she opted for staring at the wall, like the lunatic that she is. It wasn’t as exciting as the drink that Marissa was, no doubt, getting, but it was distracting at the very least.
Marissa’s broken voice called out to her but she didn’t respond — didn’t know how to respond, she almost hoped that Marissa would just drop it (wishful thinking at its best) — and Marissa continued talking. The blonde found herself wondering if Marissa could have a two-sided conversation with herself; Delilah had those all the time.
It’s how she convinced herself to walk out into a train — which wasn’t how Marissa was going to die, Delilah would make sure of that.
Delilah didn’t really want to listen to Marissa anymore (she was making too much sense for a ‘mad woman’ — she was going too k i l l those who said that about Marissa) so she just stared blankly at the wall; wondering just how long Marissa was going to be able to see her this time. However, her curiousity didn’t allow her to not listen to Marissa — so she listened without responding… again (it’s not like she can say something to c o m f o r t Marissa, she was horrid at that. Delilah couldn’t even comfort herself at times).
Delilah wondered if that (how unresponsive she was) annoyed the brunette; if that pushed the wrong buttons, however in the way that Marissa was talking… well, it’d be hard to not sense some form of bitterness there. Which was okay — it’s not like she could blame Marissa, for feeling how she’s feeling.
If Marissa were to walk out onto a train, well… yes, Delilah would be a bit, just a little bit, bitter towards anyone and anything. Or… the cancer. That fucking cancer. She wished someone would just cure it. Everyone would agree on that — Mary would agree on that…
The thought of Marissa dying from cancer (was worse than the thought of Marissa losing everything and it) worried her to the point of thinking about it everyday — every damn day, that thought would haunt her… moreso in death, than in life — and the idea makes Delilah feel much colder than she already is. Though (something that drove everyone crazy), Delilah kept all of those thoughts to herself, just stared at that fucking wall like it was the most interesting thing that she had ever seen. Counting the tiles was starting to get boring, but she’d only gotten to one hundred and fifty eight, so she’d keep going for a while.
Wondering what Marissa thought about this strange behaviour, Delilah thought of what people might think of them — the two crazy lovers, who loved d e a t h more than they loved themselves? Catchy, but hardly complex enough for the two of them, in Delilah’s opin— Her lover’s next few words made Delilah shiver and she cast her eyes up towards the ceiling (the first movement in a while; it hurt her neck).
" — Hayden said he saw her the other day, said she seemed okay."
No… no, Jack was most definitely not alright. It sent Delilah’s mind into overload — how had she gotten out? It definitely didn’t sound like Jack; didn’t sound like her step father either (he’d never let his ‘business transactions’ out of his sights); the fucking cruel bastard. What if she got out because— no… no that couldn’t happen. Jack wouldn’t let that happen; hell, Matt might be a fucking tool but he wouldn’t let that happen. Her breathing was erratic but (without saying a word) she looked back to the, distracting, wall and calmed herself. She wondered if Marissa noticed; would be kind of offended if she didn’t.
But what was Jack doing out?
Gnawing at the corner of her lip, pondering on just what could be going through her little sister’s mind, Delilah listened to what Marissa had to say. The brunette sounded troubled (as per usual). Troubled, broken… tired, maybe. Marissa seemed like she was tired of it all — maybe she needed to sleep, like Lear did in that Shakespearean play. That’s not the best example, although Lear did die of a broken heart… so maybe it is.
Watching Marissa move closer to her in the corner of her eye, Delilah thought that she had a certain… look in her eyes; need, or maybe desperation… maybe she had been unresponsive for too long, it was a bad idea to begin with, after all. Feeling a movement — pressure would be a better word — against where her cheek would be and that was all it was. Pressure; no deep meaning or loving words (more fearful words), just normal pressure… it made Delilah regret not being alive.
If she were alive, there’d be tears falling down her cheeks — alas, she’s no longer with the living and water is non-existant in the world of ghosts. Then Marissa spoke.
Her voice was quiet; meek is how Delilah would describe it. The blonde found herself wondering just how much of this… person she’d broken — maybe Delilah could pay the insurance money. Marissa’d like that… the joke, not the money. It wasn’t in Delilah’s intentions to b r e a k the brunette… it just happened.
Sighing quietly, Delilah looked to the ground, figuring that she’d have to say something. Might as well be some sort of speech. Go big or go home, right? “Do you remember how long I was gone?” she asked, not bothering to look at the brunette. The blonde wondered if that was annoy Marissa. “When I said I loved you, then left.” Delilah confirmed; she left a lot of times… it got tiring after a while but what can you do?
The question was rhetorical, obviously, but Delilah still paused for effect. “I was gone… for one hundred and thirteen days. I remember, I counted.” Pathetic. Fucking p a t h e t i c. Counting down the days until she saw her again and yet, she couldn’t decide if she loved it or hated it. Decided on both “You could go and see my bedroom wall, if you don’t believe me.” Wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t believe her; something as sappy as that just wasn’t Delilah’s thing and it never will be.
Wondering if Marissa knew where she was going with this, Delilah smiled bitterly, nipping at her bottom lip. “I… am a cold-hearted bitch, I know I am. Don’t try to defend me because I am.” Marissa wouldn’t defend her there — at least, Delilah would be surprised if she did.
"But when I say… I love someone… I mean it. It mightn’t seem like I meant it, but I did." she (barely) nodded, lost in her own little world.
Her eyebrows furrowed, her voice wasn’t as pronounced as it usually was and she looked to the ground. “I really did.”
"And thinking like that—" she paused, shaking her head. Classic manipulation move — guilt tripping. Delilah didn’t see it as anything bad; saw it as a way of turning Marissa in the right direction. “thinking like that you’re not going to help yourself. Rich coming from someone like me, I know but…” she moved her head to look at her lover but her eyes never left the ground, she sighed instead, frowning.
"I won’t forgive myself if I just stand by and watch as you kill yourself from the inside." now, that was a bit of manipulation… but there was feeling there; it wasn’t a l i e, like there usually is.
Pressing her lips together, Delilah almost didn’t notice that she was moving closer to Marissa. Almost. “I want to give you back everything — I wanted to give you back everything… but you wouldn’t let me give it back…”
Raising an eyebrow, Delilah sighed loudly — she almost sounded annoyed. “And before you— begin your argument, no I didn’t want to give it back to you.” she paused for a second, swallowing a lump in her throat. “I wanted it, so much. That’s why I wanted to give it back.”
"I’m not good for you. Never have been, never will be." the thought of right now being the most honest that she’s ever been, well… it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Find someone else Marissa; someone who’s good for you, makes you a better you…” “get over me…” she wanted to hammer that into her head, until she actually does it; fuck, she wanted to kiss her. Not as easy as it seems, being dead.
"Please." she tried to not sound like she was begging her. Last thing she needed was Marissa to start sprouting shit about that. “For you.” Appealing to the side of Marissa that wanted help was hard… Delilah hoped she’d listen. Being dead and stalking your ex girlfriend would be so much easier then. “And if not for you, then for me.”
Looking to the bottle of Jack in Marissa’s hand, Delilah smiled. Then actually reached for it, before her hand went straight through it. The blonde wanted to say that she forgot she was dead, but that would be a lie. So she didn’t say anything. Just looked at the bottle of Jack…
If Jack were a drink, Delilah had a feeling that she’d be a Red Bull. Or some energy drink. Talking about Jack to Marissa reminded her of— of the old times… “Jack is…” the words had bubbled up and Delilah said them before really thinking. “She’s a bit like me…” Hopefully not… too much like her.
Shaking her head, Delilah’s voice nearly broke. It reminded her of all the times she and Marissa said they loved each other — which was mostly Marissa’s times. “She’s not alright.” she wasn’t calling Hayden a liar — he just seemed to pay too little attention to little details. She couldn’t fault him, he was just a guy.
That was when it clicked and a(n almost) mischievious smile burst out on Delilah’s face. “On second thought… maybe she isn’t a bit like me.”
Tilting her head, Delilah took a moment to just… appreciate Jack’s unique genius. Fuck, she should have thought of it before. “Whenever she has a crush on someone, it’s cute.” grinning like a cheshire cat, Delilah tried to make eye contact with Marissa. “Remember that, will you?” Perfect. Jaqueline Daniels definitely grew up. Quite beautifully, if you were to ask her.
If Marissa — or Hayden — found out, Jack would be so screwed. Which was okay.
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