Page 24 of Violent Little Thing

The Favor

DELILAH

T he pillow pressed against my cheek is too soft to be Adonis’ arm. But the last thing I remember is the way his bicep cradled my face and the music flowing from his fingertips that eventually lulled me back to sleep.

He must have carried me up here and the realization scorches my skin more than the sun coming in through my windows.

Every morning before I wake up, Ms. Agnes comes into my room to pull back the curtains. She hasn’t missed a day in the four weeks I’ve been here, and I don’t know how she does it without me waking up every time.

Once upon a time, I thought I was a light sleeper. That should be true in this house more than anywhere. But the longer I stay here, the deeper my sleep is. Most mornings I wake up without remembering I fell asleep. I’m convinced Ms. Agnes found a way to infuse melatonin in my sheets .

Last night, the only reason I was up was because of the nightmare that forced me upright at two a.m.

Tangled in torment, I woke with a heave, eyes jumping around the room until I convinced myself I was safe.

Everything about the body on top of me, pressing me into the mattress felt real . Just like the stale odor of beer on his breath and the scratchy voice speaking directly in my ear. All of it had felt as sickeningly vivid as the night it happened.

“Open your fucking legs, little sis. I want to see what the fuss is about.”

“Wes, what are you doing?” I try to move, to escape the man double my size, but he catches my wrists and holds them hostage above my head.

“Wes, what are you doing?” he parrots on a snicker, leering at me in the moonlit room.

He’s not even supposed to be here. He was at a party. Or on a date. Something that wasn’t here.

But I woke up when I heard a crash outside my door. The next thing I knew, he was tripping over his feet until he reached the foot of my bed and fell on top of me at a weird angle.

Sudden panic seizes my body at the clink of his belt unbuckling.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s drunk. He probably thinks I’m someone else.

I still need to get him off me.

“Get off me, Wes. You’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want my turn.” His fingers dig into the grooves on the side of my wrist and I wince. “What the fuck is so special about you, Delilah? Why do you get to be his golden child?”

“Weston, you’re hurting me.” I’m whimpering but I don’t care. I need him off me so I can breathe. So I can think. “Weston, please.”

My words fall on indifferent ears, and he reaches between us, tugging at his belt before tossing it somewhere on the floor. The belt lands with a little thump against my rug that makes my heart rate triple.

Weston shoves my legs open with his free hand, manhandling me when I close them again and again.

“Fucking stop it, Delilah.”

A sob gets stuck in my throat when he rips my nightgown off my torso, exposing me more than I’ve ever been in my life.

This isn’t happening. He’s my brother. Why is he doing this?

We’ve never been close, but I never imagined he’d be capable of this. Of violating his baby sister while he’s too drunk to stand up straight.

My wrists burn from his cruel grip and my lungs burn because I’m not breathing anymore. I lie there, stiff as a board, hoping against hope that he’ll stop.

He doesn’t.

“You think you’re fucking suh-spesh…ul?” His slurred question echoes in the room.

I’m all out of words, so I lie there, needing him to tire himself out from taunting me. Maybe if he talks long enough, he won’t do?—

“Wouldn’t it be funny if pops went through all this trouble to find you a husband and I took y-your virginity before they could? ”

He jerks against me with brute force until a sob rips out of me.

“Shut up, Delilah. Your tears don’t mean shit to me.”

Weston pries my legs open again, his fingertips crawling up the inside of my thigh...

A shiver rushes down my spine, pulling me back until reality eclipses the recollection.

Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I peer out of the big window on the furthest wall, enchanted by the swaying trees as always. But part of my mind is still clinging to that nightmare. Stuck on replay. The one time my memory doesn’t fail me, and it has to be that .

My period was the thing that stopped him that night. He was more disgusted by the unexpected blood staining my underwear than what he was about to do to me.

The minute he stumbled out of my room, I ran to my bathroom and cried over the sink, but not too loud because I didn’t want to wake up my dad. All my life, I’d adjusted to walking on eggshells because his room was right next to mine and everything set him off.

That night was the first time I’d ever been relieved by the surprise Aunt Flo brought every month. It took forever to calm the tremble in my hands so I could clean myself up and go back to bed.

Walking through the dark room, I’d tripped over Weston’s belt and started crying all over again.

If it hadn’t been for the soft notes of the piano floating up the stairs last night, there’s no telling how much more of a mess I’d be this morning.

Talking to Adonis scrubbed everything from my mind. I didn’t have room in my head for the torture of my subconscious when he was revealing so much of himself to me.

When I first called out to him, I could have sworn there was torment in his eyes when he looked at me. But that look softened into something else the closer I got to him.

We shared that bench last night as if we’d been doing it all our lives. And I soaked up his words because I didn’t know the next time he’d let them flow so freely.

It feels like betrayal admitting that the past week hasn’t felt like captivity. Something subtle in Adonis is shifting. Something I haven’t been able to put my finger on yet. But when I do…

My eyes slide shut as I try to recall every detail about the moment.

How warm his skin was when our forearms connected. How lost he got in the music he was playing.

His voice sounded so soft. So warm and connected.

Like he wanted to have the conversation as much as I did.

And God, the mint on his breath had been so strong it made my eyes water behind my glasses.

I wonder if he’d been chasing away the taste of his favorite tequila.

Or had it been something else? I wasn’t bold enough to ruin the mood by asking …

Cramps stab at my lower back, announcing my period’s upcoming arrival.

I guess that explains last night; my dreams are always worse around this time of the month.

As I comb my hair in the bathroom mirror, I rehearse the favor I plan to ask Victor for once Adonis leaves.

He could tell me no, but at least I’ll know I tried.

Back at my bedside, I grab my glasses off the nightstand and put them on, pausing for a beat to get used to the feel of them on my face .

Dr. Thomas said I should be adjusted to them in two to three weeks and I’m clinging to that promise because it means I might go more than a day without a headache.

A dull one thrums at my temples now, but I don’t know if it’s hormones, BVD or some secret third thing.

“I guess I’ll find out at the neurologist next week,” I murmur, picking up my phone.

Me: Has anyone else shown up at the apartment?

Indi: I was just about to text you!

Me: What’s wrong? Did something happen?

Indi: Yes and no

Me: Indigo, stop edging me and tell me!

Indi: We really gotta work on your use of that word. You starting to make me regret teaching you what it is

My face flushes at her response while an ill-timed laugh bubbles in my chest.

Me: Tell me, please

Indi: I went to the leasing office to pay our rent and sour patch Sam told me you already paid up the rest of our lease .

Laughter shakes my shoulders at her mention of Sam. The leasing manager with the permanent scowl on his face has been on Indigo’s shit list since we moved in.

Indi: Did you secretly hit the lotto or something? How did you do that if you’re not going to work? Did your new boyfriend pay it? If so, I take back everything I said about that man

“What is she talking about?” Squinting at her words, I scroll up to her previous text, shaking my head when I realize I stopped reading after I saw Sam’s name.

Damn.

Someone paid our rent for the rest of the year? It wasn’t my unemployed ass. I’m still salty I paid rent a day before I got snatched.

Another pulse from my phone pulls my eyes back down before I can get lost in rumination.

Nothing about the receipt she attached stands out at first until I zoom in on the total. Nobody else in my life has that kind of money lying around. Nobody except the man who took me.

“Fucking Adonis.”

And there it is. The pin I needed to burst my bubble and bring my head back to planet earth after floating in the clouds.

Outside of this house, life moves on while I miss every second of it.

A tidal wave of realizations hit me all at once.

Adonis is still who he is, and he paid for the rest of the year.

Why did he pay for the rest of the year? And why hadn’t he said anything about it?

Soothing myself, I rub the column of my neck again and again. Until it doesn’t feel like I’m choking on my own breaths.

I’d love a full day without my emotions see-sawing all over the place, but something tells me that won’t happen until I get the hell out of here.

Shaking away the thoughts, I bite my bottom lip and stare at my screen.

After circling back with Indigo to make sure no one else has shown up at our door, I finally leave my room and stop at the base of the stairs when I glimpse Victor waiting for me.

“Good morning, Ms. Delilah.”

“Morning, Victor.”

His lips quirk in something resembling a smile so I ease closer into his space.

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

He doesn’t speak but inclines his head in invitation.

“I…want to know who’s connected to this number.

” I turn my phone screen to face him, showcasing the phone number left in that envelope for me.

Every Google search I’d done led me nowhere but a website with a bank of phone numbers with similar digits.

So far, I’ve come up with two flimsy hunches.

Someone Weston owes knows where I live and is looking for me to get to him.

It’s bleak but the most realistic choice.

The other possibility borders on a naive hope I can hardly admit to myself.

“You want me to help you?” Victor repeats after some time, looking me over.

“Yes.” I try to read his expression, but beyond his almost smiles, the man is a wall of indifference. “And if we could keep it between us, I’d appreciate it.”

Some of the stoniness in his expression melts into a fond smile. “Of course, Ms. Delilah. I’ll work on that while you have breakfast.”

“Between you and me?” I confirm, whispering.

“Between me and you.”