Chapter 25
DELILAH
Helene has become a different person since Kane left.
I’m more frightened of myself than her, because I can feel myself warming towards her.
So much so, I actively seek her out while telling myself it’s all for our plan, but with each story she tells me, it humanizes her.
Behind the sick bitch is a mother mourning her daughter.
Whether I like it or not, Helene and I are alike because I ran from the same emptiness.
I’ve spent my child’s entire life trying to fill the hole they left.
In my attempt to mask the loss, I forgot them.
I was a child, so I didn’t have any thoughts of being a mother, but I would have made sure they had a good family.
Vanilla, sugar, and raspberries perfume the air when I enter the empty kitchen.
Another act a monster wouldn’t do—bake—but I smile at the cake in the middle of the table.
Continuing my hunt for Helene, I go into the hallway as my parents and grandparents exit the lounge.
They don’t even glance at me as Helene’s stick taps against the floor, shooing them forward to walk as a unit to the door.
She wraps her arm around me, guiding me with her as she sees them out.
They get into a car with a masked guard driving it.
“There, sweet girl,” Helene says softly. “This is your home now. You will be more comfortable without their presence.”
“Thank you.”
My gratitude is sincere. It feels like a physical weight has been lifted off me as I watch them be taken away. Helene strokes my back as she softly asks, “Would you like to go for another walk? Or we could have cake?”
“Cake sounds nice.” I turn, smiling all while telling myself it’s because she’ll open up, so I’ll eat her cake to find out what I need. It’s not because I’m curious or falling back into my previous habit of latching onto anyone who gives me attention.
We don’t sit in the lounge around her dead décor or the piano of torment; we go to the kitchen. A warm atmosphere normal people call the heart of a home where the death of Helene’s diet is hidden in the fridge.
She fills a black tea kettle with water as I collect two plates and a knife.
I cut us each a slice then take my seat as she begins boiling the water on the stove.
We sit closer this time, Helene at the head of the table and me two chairs down.
Her eyes flick from the seat opposite her, then to the one I’ve chosen today as she lifts her pastry fork and delicately cuts into her slice.
I copy her as I ask, “Have you always lived here?”
“When I was a girl, I lived on the other side of the island.” She brings the fork to her lips and slowly chews. “The house you sought refuge in was my childhood home.”
Is she angry at me?
Wait, what the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t care if she’s pissed at me.
There’s so much unease in my muscles, I don’t even know how to react or what to say.
If I apologize, I’m apologizing to the bitch who took my baby from me.
If I scream, she’ll take away this civility when I don’t have Kane to stop me going insane.
So I say nothing. I silently eat the cake while questioning if I haven’t already lost my mind.
It’s a possibility. I could still be in the hospital, trapped in a drug-induced fugue state.
Or this is real and I’m still searching for a way to have some control.
If this is all a fabrication of my mind, it’s just that—my mind, not other people manipulating me.
“Did you know Isadora well?” Helene asks as she taps the tines of her fork against the rim of her plate.
“She was friendly.”
Helene hums, tapping against the plate again as the kettle begins to boil. “I understand from Lizbeth, Isadora wasn’t particularly social.”
I nod, taking another forkful of cake.
“You spent a lot of time in their house while you were sampling both brothers,” she says.
This rude fucking bitch.
“I was not sampling them.”
“Were you not moving from one bed to another?” She raises a brow, swaying her fork side to side.
“That’s not what happened.”
“Oh, sweet girl, I am not judging you. Both identical, each with their own set of talents but physically the same. One had a stronger mind, the other led by his heart. Who could fault you for taking what was always meant to be yours?”
She’s diminishing everything between Kane and I. It wasn’t sordid or some exciting thrill of cheating, sneaking around. It obviously factored into it because I was scared of getting caught, but it wasn’t the sole reason.
“I never loved Asher,” I grit. “I never enjoyed spending time with him or even talking to him. It was always Kane. It. Will. Always. Be. Kane.”
The tea kettle begins bubbling faster while she hums like I’m lying.
“Asher was a talented boy, but he wouldn’t have kept you.
He asked for a concession: to be the one to solidify the bond between our families, then he would have given you to Kane.
” She leans forward, her smile widening.
“You see, sweet girl, I was always going to give Kane to you. He is the shadow, the one meant to live a boring life while Asher was destined to be here by my side. But you set fire to your future. In turn, you ruined more than your own life.”
“What do you mean? A boring life?”
She sits back in her chair, lines the corners of a napkin up as she says, “Lennox is the shadow—the second born. He attended a prestigious school, became friends with influential figures from every industry. That is a boring life, like you and Kane had discussed. The careers which would never really satisfy your need for wealth, the family you could’ve had that would never become anything of importance. ”
The bubbling gets louder, but she lowers her voice as she looks up, still folding the napkin.
“But you couldn’t endure your service to get that life.
Kane would have graduated, went to a school where he would learn how to build bigger and better machines.
He would have received all the funding necessary for his technology company, as another cog working towards advancements that already exist. Like diamonds, we can’t devalue the product by allowing everyone to have access. ”
She picks up another napkin, folding it in a different pattern than the last.
“You would have mourned Asher,” she says softly. “As a family. The story would be one of finding love in grief, you for the love you lost and Kane for his brother. In your shared grief, you would have fallen so deeply in love with each other no one would see my hands working in the shadows.”
Another napkin, another intricate folding technique.
“Out there, in the boring life, you would have been allowed love. But,” she joins the three folded napkins together as the kettle whistles, “you burnt it.”
Helene holds the origami lion she’s made on her palm as she pushes her chair back.
Leaning to the side, she removes the tea kettle to stop the whistling as steam blows out in a clean, powerful line beside her hand.
She holds the tail of the lion to the flame of the burner.
The spark starts small, then it quickly engulfs the napkin animal.
When it reaches its rump, she smothers the embers with her thumb and forefinger before setting it on the table.
Only for it to topple over without the stability of the tail to keep it upright.
“One fire by a stupid teenage girl altered the steadiness I created.” She stands, lifts the tea kettle, and pours the boiling water over the napkin.
The scalding water splashes up against my hands and I pull them away from the table, wincing while she continues her theatrics.
“I corrected it by dismantling you along with all my plans.”
She drops the tea kettle in the middle of the table. It wobbles before it falls onto its side, sending the boiled water running in my direction. Collecting her stick resting on the back of a chair, she walks away while I push out of my seat to escape being burnt.
The water flows over the edge, thicker than normal water, clinging to everything it touches.
I look down at the red dots under the blob of cooling liquid where the water landed, but the taps of her stick stop.
She pauses in the hallway to say, “Delilah? Anna traded your life for her freedom. You’re alone with me now. ”
It was all a ploy to make me think she’s not totally crazy.
She used me to make my parents feel like shit.
Now I’m alone with her, it’s back to the regularly scheduled programming of toying with me.
I’d rather she whipped me than fuck with my head.
If she beats me, I can watch it heal, I know it happened.
If she plays with my head again, I’ll be trapped.
The confusion is the worst pain I’ve ever felt and it made me doubt my life, my memories, my baby.
I run upstairs to the room before she can drag me anywhere.
There’s no way for me to lock the door, so I go into the bathroom to remove the stickiness from my skin.
The burns are soothed with the cold water, but the smell of sugar is still in the air.
It’s not on my clothes or in my hair, it’s clinging to my skin like she’s slowly taking control of me.
The psychotic fucking cunt had sugar in the tea kettle.
That’s why the water has dried in blobs, pulling patches of my skin off with them, but I do it carelessly, wanting it off as soon as possible.
My arms and hands are nearly blue from being held under the cold water when I leave the bathroom, and the numbness makes it harder to climb out of the window.
Once I’ve made it out onto the ledge, I can breathe. I sit in the exact same position Kane did, gripping the edge with my numb fingers as I stare down at the rocks.
Would it be better to die?
I can’t have my baby. They have their own life, so why am I alive? To be a joke, a pawn for other people to control.
But then you burnt it.
Kane would have had a normal life.
Asher was going to die anyway. They were going to fake his death so he could live on this island, doing whatever they needed while Kane and I lived happily ever after.
But. Then. I. Burnt. It.
As the feeling re-enters my limbs, the drop down to the rocks becomes more enticing. I hold the stone as I stand on the ledge, slowly letting go when I dangle my foot over the ledge to true freedom.