Page 54 of Bite Back

DELILAH

Finally, after a solid three weeks of avoidance, I take the subway back to my old apartment.

My lease is finally almost up. I wince at the stained floor by the entrance, skirting around the darkened planks as I walk in.

I want to spend as little time here as possible. Get in, get what I need, get out.

A thin layer of dust blankets everything, and my boots leave imprints behind as I cross the creaking floorboards. Small shards of glass crunch under my feet. It feels like a graveyard. Once upon a time, I was happy here. Or I thought I was. No. I was happy. It just didn’t last.

Once, I looked around this apartment and saw my future. Now, all I see is my past.

I rummage through the dresser and grab my remaining clothes, stuffing them into the backpack I brought.

As I’m riffling through the items, my attention snags on the dress I was wearing when Luka proposed.

Green silk glides between my fingers, shiny and smooth.

I picture the way the dress hugged my curves.

The way Luka’s pupils dilated when I put it on and the way his hands drifted appreciatively over the contours of my body.

For so long the dress felt like a good luck charm.

Now it feels tainted. I toss the dress to the side.

I leave the dress on the floor and stalk out of the apartment.

There’s a yellow sign that I missed on the way in.

The building’s been condemned. A flash of anger burns through me, and I make a mental note to complain about the landlord still charging rent.

I stretch my senses out, straining my ears.

No sounds. No smells. It’s totally empty.

An idea lights in my mind, delicious and tempting and wrong. If I hesitate, I might not go through with it. But I’m not going to hesitate. I’m going to give in.

It’s wrong. But I just don’t care.

I mount the stairs back up the apartment, bounding up them two at a time. Each step echoes up the eerily empty building. My body trembles as I reenter the apartment and head straight to the kitchen.

The junk drawer. That should have what I’m looking for. I yank it open and poke around between disposable silverware and old takeout menus. Bingo. The old silver lighter sits at the bottom of the drawer.

I pull it into my hands, running my fingers along the smooth plastic surface, worshiping it. My fingers toy with the lever. It would be so easy to walk away. I was ready to walk away earlier. I don’t need to do this. Or maybe I do.

I need it all gone. My past, the future I dreamed out of the lies.

I cross over to the bathroom and scan through the contents of the medicine cabinet. Got it. I grab the bottle of rubbing alcohol—still mostly full—and head back to the living room. I upended the bottle, clear liquid pooling on the floor.

My fingers press the lighter’s lever, and a spark leaps to life. I bring the dancing yellow flame to face level, admiring the way it flickers. Then I drop it, and it clatters to the ground of the apartment. To the very old, very wooden floors.

I turn back once when I reach the apartment’s threshold.

The blaze licks along the floor, following the path of the alcohol, and climbs toward the ceiling, smoke beginning to crowd the room.

The sparks consume and char the bloodstain on the floor.

I nod at the scene and then shove my way out the door.

The smoke alarm blares in my ears. Good.

That means firefighters will catch the blaze before it spreads beyond this building.

The door clangs shut with a delicious finality.

Or as close to final as I can get—we haven’t been able to track down the woman Luka was living with yet.

Maybe she’ll turn up someday and I’ll be able to explain to her what happened, what she escaped.

I’d like to think we got there in time. I need to believe that.

But, for now, this apartment is all that was left of Luka.

I won’t come back. As much as I’d like to watch from the street, it isn’t wise. So I head home, leaving the past where it belongs. Behind me. In a heaping pile of rubble.

Snow kisses my face as I traverse the streets between my old apartment and home.

Powder collects on the sidewalks, my shoes leaving prints.

White blankets the trees, casting everything in beautiful, pearly glow.

I ease out of my jacket, the frosty air chilling my skin.

A shiver runs through me, and a giddy grin spreads across my face.

I extend my tongue, catching the falling flakes on it. In my new body, everything is heightened. Each flake of snow gleams, every angle of each unique design. My nose breathes in the powdery freshness, and the crisp flakes blossom across my tongue.

I glimpse myself in a glass store window, hair adorned with white glimmers.

The snow sparkles against my dark hair like tiny crystals, glistening in the pale afternoon light.

A peachy flush colors my cheeks, and laughter stains my lips a dark berry red.

I look ethereal and wild. All Luka saw in me was a pretty face, an amusement, a toy. I see what’s underneath that.

Yes, I’m the woman who was suckered in. The woman who suffered and survived.

The woman full of sparks and fire. I’m all those things.

But I’m also so much more. I’m the woman who laughs with her friends at the bar.

The woman who eats ice cream under the stars with Asher.

The woman who dances alone in the street as the snow drifts down.

As much as I’ve directed my anger towards Luka, I’ve also poured it back on myself.

I’ve judged myself endlessly for the circumstances I found myself in.

But I’m more than all that. More than the bad things that happened, more than the things I blamed myself for.

Despite the whirlpool of pain swirling within me, there’s still room for more.

Still a future worth hoping for. A future worth fighting for.

Something worth living for and looking forward to.

I walk home slowly as snow accumulates on the street. Eventually, the snow soaks my hair and my clothes. I’m wet and cold down to my core. But for the first time in a long time, I feel light.