Page 55 of God of War

“I’m sorry, Delaney. I…. I can’t.”

20

Delaney

“Must use this place for storage,” Ares mutters.

The door to the apartment is open behind us, white moonlight cascading in and elongating our shadows on the dusty floor. The place is cluttered with disused restaurant furniture: tables with missing legs and the tops of bar seats with vinyl so cracked that the stuffing spews out like the poplar tree fluff that floats in the air in spring time.

“Cozy,” I reply dully. I smooth out my dress, then tug at the straps. My skin itches in it now, the fabric chafing under my arms. There must be something wrong with it — it felt so comfortable before, made me feel pretty and confident, but now I can’t wait to tear it off and never put it on again.

I move around Ares. There’s an old lumpy couch, a dusty kitchenette and an open door that shows a tiled floor and the corner of a sink. There might not be electricity but hopefully there’s hot water.

“I’m going across the street to get our stuff,” Ares says from the doorway. There’s the clink of metal on something and I look behind me to see him leaving the switchblade on the kitchen counter.

“I’ll lock the door,” he says. “Stay inside and don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” I reply, turning away.

“I mean it this time, Delaney.”

I give him a thumbs up over my shoulder. Juvenile, I know, but my throat is getting tight and every word threatens to come out as a strained squeak. The door closes, the key scraping in the lock, and then I’m grabbing at my dress, pulling and tugging and tearing to get the thing off because I can’t wear it another fucking second.

I give up on the zip and just yank it over my head, but my arms get tangled and the dress covers my face, fabric folding over my mouth like a hand trying to silence me.

I can’t breathe. That guy grabbed in me in this dress. Stared at my tits in this dress. Ares rejected me in this dress. I need it off.

I jerk my elbows out sharply and am rewarded with the sound of seams ripping. The dress loosens and I manage to finally get it off. I throw it across the room, into some dark corner where it’ll stay.

“Idiot,” I say, staring at the pile of fabric on the floor. I’m an idiot for thinking that a dress would make Ares see me differently. That it would make him want me. Sighing, I turn for the bathroom.

I leave the door open, letting what little light there is outside filter in. The shower controls take a minute to find and I fumble blindly over the tile until I find them. The pipes shake and groan, but then clean, warm water gushes out and smacks loudly into the bottom of the tub.

“Thank fuck,” I mutter to myself as I peel off my underwear.

I fall silent as I tilt my face under the water, letting it wash away the sting of Ares’ rejection. Maybe it’s because I’m still kinda drunk, but my heart aches more than usual. It’s a tender, bruised feeling that pushes deeper into the core of me with every moment that passes.

I’m sorry, Delaney. I can’t.

He can’t, whatever that means. Can’t be with me, can’t love me, can’t treat me like a normal girl — because I’m not normal. I never will be.

A shuddering sob explodes from my lips and I collapse to the bottom of the tub. Everything’s gone wrong, right from the start.

Dad’s coming after me.

My plan didn’t work.

I’ve put Lilly in danger.

The thought of Lilly wrenches my heart open and a new round of tears mingle with the water pouring down on me. I wrap my hands around my knees and sit there, paralyzed. Like a loser. Like a failure. God, what would Mama think of me if she saw me now?

“Delaney? What are you— Shit.”

The tap squeaks off. Water gurgles down the drain, drips off my chin and the ends of my hair. Hands, big and warm, touch me hesitantly between my shoulder blades. Ares’ face bobs into my view as he crouches by the side of the tub.

“Can you hear me? Baby, look at me.”

Baby.

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