Chapter 65 Witness X
Witness X
Delilah
My father loved Tom Jones. Played him all day long. It used to drive me mad.
His songs were the soundtrack to my childhood.
Sounds innocent when you say it like that, doesn’t it?
But mine was no ordinary childhood. Even now, when I hear his voice, I can still smell the overbearing scent of cheap corner shop–bought lager and cigarettes.
I continue to hear the muffled sounds of raised voices screaming at each other through the bedroom wall, occasionally interrupted by a thump on soft flesh or the sound of breaking glass.
I will forever hate that man’s music. Even when no song was playing, my name served as a constant reminder of the past I’d left behind. Delilah.
But I had to honor Rule #5: Be a Good Liar.
And always base your lies on truth.
I knew I couldn’t stray too far from my real name. I needed to make sure that, if I ever did slip, it was easy enough to cover up with the truth. It was just a matter of finding the perfect variation. Something that sounded classier, more elegant.
Delilah.
Lilah.
Leila.
That was it. I knew it was perfect the moment I wrote it down.
The day Leila Reynolds was born, I’d never felt so free.