38. Delilah
DELILAH
Blood was caked underneath my fingernails and matted into my hair.
It smelled metallic and slightly sour. I scrubbed my skin raw, wanting to be rid of any remnants of John once and for all.
The water underneath my feet ran red as the hot shower pelted my body.
It burned, but I welcomed the sting, wanting to feel the pain, because all I felt right now was a numb hollowness that dug itself into my bones.
He was actually dead. And I’d delivered the final blow.
I still couldn’t believe it.
John wouldn’t be able to hurt me or anyone else ever again.
As soon as that thought hit me, a broken and tortured sob wrenched out of my throat.
My knees wobbled and I found myself sliding down the white tile wall of the motel room shower.
We were officially on the run because I’d killed a man.
Not just any man. My rapist. My abuser. My husband.
I felt it all then. The rage, the vindication, the sheer relief. It cascaded over me like flames licking at my skin in an uncontrollable inferno. Time slipped away from me as my emotions consumed me. Eventually, I felt the water halt and a large, fluffy towel settled over my bare shoulders.
When I looked up through my drenched lashes, I saw Cain kneeling down, fully dressed in the puddle that was still going down the drain.
“You’re safe,” he said, running his hand over my shaved head. “You’re safe.”
I clawed my way up his body, needing to feel his arms around me. He let me pull him down until we were a tangle of limbs and he cradled my slippery body against him.
“We did it,” I whispered. “He’s really gone.”
Cain pulled my face towards his and kissed my cheek. “He is. And he’ll never fucking hurt you again.”
I might never fully heal from the hell I’d been put through. I might always carry the scars and memories, but now I knew what I was capable of.
Cain’s hand ran down my arm, and I heard his heart beating steadily through his chest. He’d stood by me and found me in the depths of the darkness.
He could have left me there, but instead, he’d reached down a hand and pulled me out of it, accepting me—broken bits and all.
We weren’t a conventional couple. Far from it.
But we had something special. It might be different.
It might have been forged from the embers of our trauma, but it was ours.
And I fucking loved him. Everyone else I’d known had failed me.
My parents. My school. This town. But not him. Never him.
Whatever our future held, I knew we would face it together. If we could get through Kingston, we could get through anything. I knew it.
“What do you say we find you something comfortable to wear, and then you can pick something to watch?” he asked.
I nodded. “What about Friends? ”
“Sounds good. Besides, it’ll be nice to watch it next you instead of through the screen.”
I smacked him on the chest. “You are such a freak.”
“I am, but you love me,” he said with a smile, wiping a rogue tear from my cheek.
“You bet your ass I do,” I said, smiling back at him, knowing I could never love anyone the way I loved Cain.
When I stood, he took my hand and I followed him, leaving behind the version of myself that existed before. I got to choose who I would be now. I got to choose what my life would look like. And I chose Cain with my whole heart.