The Not-So Beautiful Tragedy of Dalilah Ashe (Part 2)
Feb 14, 2024 20:30:01 GMT -6
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Post by Dalilah Ashe on Feb 14, 2024 20:30:01 GMT -6
In the depths of her despair she leaned on her voices for comfort. But in her moment of most desperate need they had very little left to say:
The Lost Girl: (Nervous) What’s she doing?
The Diva: She finally found out.
The Lost Girl: (Scared) Found out what?
The Dame: She found out the truth little one.
The Diva: She found out who we really are.
The Lost Girl: (Sadly) Is she gonna be okay?
The Dame: She’ll have to find her own way now, we can’t help her anymore.
The Lost Girl: (Panicked) But she’ll be all alone!
The Diva: She’s been alone since she was a child. She should be able to handle it by now.
The Dame: (Haunted) She won't be alone. Someone else will help her now.
Staring at an old Polaroid of her sister... mother.... Noel... Dalilah sighed. Even she seemed to have abandoned her completely. She took the bag from the table, tearing it open to get to her prescriptions.
She didn’t keep up with what kind they were or count how many she took. When she threw up once she choked down a second fist full. The bottle was mostly empty and she spilled the rest on the floor. The room was spinning as she stumbled over to collapse on the bed. She wanted music to drown out the voices in her head. She fumbled with her phone apps but ended up on her saved messages instead. One name and number caught her attention and she pressed the contact without thinking. When the call went to voicemail on the other side she slurred a short reply:
“Hey. Long time. I jus wanna tell ya I’m sorry for bein' such a bitch. They tole me my Siz-ter iz my Mom. Can you believe that? Isn’t that a joke? You were good to me, mostly. I wuz bad. Like all those doctors said I was. Like my parents. Like my Mom. But mosta tha time you were nice to me, so don’t be mad at me, okay. I didn’t mean to. I never meant to be a monster. But Granny said my Mom was one, so thas okay now I guess. We won’t have’ta hurt anymore. I’m gonna end all that shit for the both of us… Okay. Bye Bye.”
The phone clattered to the floor as she blacked out, leaving the sound of her ragged breathing to finish out the message.
After listening to her slurred and garbled message twice he was convinced that this wasn’t one of her sick jokes. Using a Find My Phone App, he tracked her number to a shitty extended stay motel downtown where he had to intimidate the clerk to get him to give up the room number.
One upstairs he banged loudly on the door repeatedly to no response. There was nothing but a haunting silence coming from inside, so he used his weight to shoulder the door open. He quickly registered the scene that he found in front of him. It was a scenario that he’d encountered more than once as a child: Spilled pills and liquor. Spattered puddles of vomit. And a woman’s body lying deathly still, sprawled across the bed.
Checking her pulse he was actually relieved that her heart was still beating. He lifted her head, smacking her firmly on the cheek as he called her name. Unable to wake her he hauled her up and dragged her into the tiny bathroom where he threw open the toilet lid before shoving two fingers down her throat. She reacted violently, gagging and struggling, before unconsciously sinking her teeth into the meat of his fingers. He grimaced in pain but refused to remove the digits from her mouth until she relinquished most of her stomach contents into the dingy bowl.
Reaching over he turned the cold water in the shower on full blast. Stepping into the tub he pulled her in with him fully clothed and held her under the freezing water until she started to stir and sputter as she regained consciousness. Wrapping her in a dry towel he led her back into the bedroom and, throwing the thin comforter aside, he lay her gently back on the bed before going to find an unopened bottle of water among the other discarded bottles on the kitchen table. After making her drink a few sips he stood back and stared down at her with an angry expression.
“Jesus Dalilah.” Mercenary whispered quietly, even though there was no conscious audience to hear his frustrated concern.
When her blurry eyes opened she half expected to find herself in Hell. But as her sight adjusted to the dim light she could see that she was still in the same shithole that she’d tried to leave just hours earlier. She was still alive and in New York City. There were some that might call that Hell. Gradually becoming more aware she realized that her hair was damp and that her clothing had been changed. Instead of shredded black leggings and a Distillers t-shirt she was now dressed in an over-sized Prime tee and a pair of baggy shorts. She also realized that she wasn’t alone. A large shadow sat by the window with his back to her, watching streaks of rain water dance down the glass as the sound of Ghost’s Mary On A Cross played silently from the speakers on his phone.
We were speeding together
Down the dark avenues
But besides all the stardom
All we got was blues
“You changed my clothes.” she said, running her fingers through her tangled hair.
“You were soaked in your own sweat… and a lot of other very pleasant stuff.” he said, not bothering to look at her.
But through all the sorrow
We were riding high
And the truth of the matter is
I had to let you go, let you go
“Did we do anything else while I was out?” She chuckled sarcastically, ignoring his look of disgust, and only half-joking.
He didn’t bother to speak, but the look he gave her showed that he wasn’t amused by her implication. Seeing him so offended made her smile a little.
We were scanning the cities
Walking to greater dues
But besides all the glamour
All we got was bruised
“Aw, what’s wrong? Playing necrophiliac with the blacked out beauty not your kink? It would'a made one hell on an upload for Onlyfans. No? Not you. You’re way too honorable to get your rocks off with a damsel in distress.”
Shaking his head he rolled his eyes and turned back to the window. Dalilah smiled again. She liked that she could still get so far underneath his skin.
“What was I supposed to do just let you lay there and die?”
But through all the sorrow
We were riding high
And the truth of the matter is
I never let you go, let you go
This time the smile that came to her lips was almost kind.
“And they say that chivalry is dead.”
For the rest of the afternoon they had very little left to say. Dalilah rested in the bed, while Michael fell back on old habits. He heated up some soup for her in sullen silence, just as he had a million times before for his mother in the past. Dalilah managed to choke down a few spoonfuls, while Michael talked on the phone to arrange her return to Chicago. As the bowl went cold on the table in front of her she could just manage to make out his side of the conversation coming from the limited privacy just behind the partially closed bathroom door.
“You need to be there to pick her up when she lands… BECAUSE I’m talking to YOU… You think I like it? But who else is there Sinister? Keith is a decent guy but that dude doesn’t have the emotional maturity to handle something like this. And Mayhem would probably use this as an excuse to try to get in her pants…
You KNOW damn well that Lacey would just make it worse! The last thing she needs is another disappointed mother figure telling her how much she’s fucked up her life… And IF I even bother calling that EWC Doctor who let her leave his office after a conversation like that alone they’d probably pull her roster spot for this shit. And right now that seems to be the one thing keeping her even a little bit sane…
Well, Because I know you’re a cold ass bastard, but you’re also the only one over there that can tell her what she needs to hear without judgment about what she tried to do. Okay? Okay. She’ll be coming into O’hare on the five o’clock flight… I’ll get her on the damn plane, you just make sure that you’re there on the other end to meet her.”
An hour later Mercenary stashed her bag in the back of a waiting Uber and told the driver not to make any stops until they got to the airport. Dalilah took the ride alone with him following behind on his Harley. When they got to the airport he walked her into the terminal to make sure she didn’t get any ideas about missing her plane. Standing together at the security stop, a forcefield of awkward energy caused all the other waiting passengers to keep a safe few paces between themselves and the forbidding duo.
As Dalilah’s turn in line came closer she abruptly turned and threw her arms around Mike’s torso, pulling herself close enough to rest her head on his chest, in an embrace that was only half-heartedly reciprocated by its intended target. Dalilah held on anyway until the awkward moment became unbearable for them both. Letting go, she looked up at him with tears teasing the edges of her wild, wide eyes.
“Thank you.” she said, with none of the sarcastic irony one might normally expect from someone possessed of her cold and careless persona.
“For what?” he replied in a manner that only attempted to remain detached. He refused to meet her gaze.
“For not hating me too much to come find me.” she replied in a gentle tone that was both sad and a bit submissive.
When he finally looked down the emotion behind his eyes matched that tone though his expression did its best not to betray him.
“I don’t hate you Dalilah. You, Me… All that other shit, that’s all in the past. And I’m doing my damnedest to leave the past behind me . Maybe you should try to do the same.”
With the surprising wisp of a smile he put his hand against her cheek and used his thumb to wipe away a single tear that she had finally allowed to escape the confines of her eye. She allowed this last moment of intimacy to linger until he carefully, but firmly, pulled his hand away.
“Next in line please.”
The guard’s harsh, robotic voice put a final stamp on the exchange. Mercenary straightened his jacket and nodded.
“Try to take care of yourself.”
Dalilah paused before answering the gatekeeper’s call, turning back to face him.
“I didn’t need you to rescue me you know.”
He laughed ironically.
“Yeah. I know.”
She smiled at him with wistful affection.
“But you couldn’t help yourself could you?”
He laughed again, this time at himself.
“Naw. That hero complex is hard shit to shake.”
He paused, seeming uncertain about what he was about to tell her.
“Dalilh... I’m gonna be a Dad.”
He blurted it nervously, as if afraid speaking the words too loudly might jinx it.
Staring at him she stumbled over how she wanted to reply. Part of her, something dark and twisted that had followed her back from the brink of death, wanted to capitalize on the chance to cause him pain. But the human side, the girl that he’d tried to save, even though he was no longer obligated to do so, decided to speak instead.
“I hope it’s a daughter. You’re the best Dad a girl could ever have.”
She turned away from this sentiment to face the cold and uncomfortably clinical ceremony of a TSA security screening. She found that practiced ritual far preferable to another second of shared intimacy. As she went to board she saw that Michael was still watching her from beyond the barrier.
When she at last disappeared up the gangway she was relieved to be out of his sight. He walked over to the wall of windows to watch the plane taxi the runway and ascend until it was too small for him to see. In his heart he wished her safe travels as he felt the book finally close on her chapter in his story.
If he only knew where the next chapter would take her, or the Hell he’d unknowingly sent her to find.
The Lost Girl: (Nervous) What’s she doing?
The Diva: She finally found out.
The Lost Girl: (Scared) Found out what?
The Dame: She found out the truth little one.
The Diva: She found out who we really are.
The Lost Girl: (Sadly) Is she gonna be okay?
The Dame: She’ll have to find her own way now, we can’t help her anymore.
The Lost Girl: (Panicked) But she’ll be all alone!
The Diva: She’s been alone since she was a child. She should be able to handle it by now.
The Dame: (Haunted) She won't be alone. Someone else will help her now.
Staring at an old Polaroid of her sister... mother.... Noel... Dalilah sighed. Even she seemed to have abandoned her completely. She took the bag from the table, tearing it open to get to her prescriptions.
She didn’t keep up with what kind they were or count how many she took. When she threw up once she choked down a second fist full. The bottle was mostly empty and she spilled the rest on the floor. The room was spinning as she stumbled over to collapse on the bed. She wanted music to drown out the voices in her head. She fumbled with her phone apps but ended up on her saved messages instead. One name and number caught her attention and she pressed the contact without thinking. When the call went to voicemail on the other side she slurred a short reply:
“Hey. Long time. I jus wanna tell ya I’m sorry for bein' such a bitch. They tole me my Siz-ter iz my Mom. Can you believe that? Isn’t that a joke? You were good to me, mostly. I wuz bad. Like all those doctors said I was. Like my parents. Like my Mom. But mosta tha time you were nice to me, so don’t be mad at me, okay. I didn’t mean to. I never meant to be a monster. But Granny said my Mom was one, so thas okay now I guess. We won’t have’ta hurt anymore. I’m gonna end all that shit for the both of us… Okay. Bye Bye.”
The phone clattered to the floor as she blacked out, leaving the sound of her ragged breathing to finish out the message.
***
After listening to her slurred and garbled message twice he was convinced that this wasn’t one of her sick jokes. Using a Find My Phone App, he tracked her number to a shitty extended stay motel downtown where he had to intimidate the clerk to get him to give up the room number.
One upstairs he banged loudly on the door repeatedly to no response. There was nothing but a haunting silence coming from inside, so he used his weight to shoulder the door open. He quickly registered the scene that he found in front of him. It was a scenario that he’d encountered more than once as a child: Spilled pills and liquor. Spattered puddles of vomit. And a woman’s body lying deathly still, sprawled across the bed.
Checking her pulse he was actually relieved that her heart was still beating. He lifted her head, smacking her firmly on the cheek as he called her name. Unable to wake her he hauled her up and dragged her into the tiny bathroom where he threw open the toilet lid before shoving two fingers down her throat. She reacted violently, gagging and struggling, before unconsciously sinking her teeth into the meat of his fingers. He grimaced in pain but refused to remove the digits from her mouth until she relinquished most of her stomach contents into the dingy bowl.
Reaching over he turned the cold water in the shower on full blast. Stepping into the tub he pulled her in with him fully clothed and held her under the freezing water until she started to stir and sputter as she regained consciousness. Wrapping her in a dry towel he led her back into the bedroom and, throwing the thin comforter aside, he lay her gently back on the bed before going to find an unopened bottle of water among the other discarded bottles on the kitchen table. After making her drink a few sips he stood back and stared down at her with an angry expression.
“Jesus Dalilah.” Mercenary whispered quietly, even though there was no conscious audience to hear his frustrated concern.
***
When her blurry eyes opened she half expected to find herself in Hell. But as her sight adjusted to the dim light she could see that she was still in the same shithole that she’d tried to leave just hours earlier. She was still alive and in New York City. There were some that might call that Hell. Gradually becoming more aware she realized that her hair was damp and that her clothing had been changed. Instead of shredded black leggings and a Distillers t-shirt she was now dressed in an over-sized Prime tee and a pair of baggy shorts. She also realized that she wasn’t alone. A large shadow sat by the window with his back to her, watching streaks of rain water dance down the glass as the sound of Ghost’s Mary On A Cross played silently from the speakers on his phone.
We were speeding together
Down the dark avenues
But besides all the stardom
All we got was blues
“You changed my clothes.” she said, running her fingers through her tangled hair.
“You were soaked in your own sweat… and a lot of other very pleasant stuff.” he said, not bothering to look at her.
But through all the sorrow
We were riding high
And the truth of the matter is
I had to let you go, let you go
“Did we do anything else while I was out?” She chuckled sarcastically, ignoring his look of disgust, and only half-joking.
He didn’t bother to speak, but the look he gave her showed that he wasn’t amused by her implication. Seeing him so offended made her smile a little.
We were scanning the cities
Walking to greater dues
But besides all the glamour
All we got was bruised
“Aw, what’s wrong? Playing necrophiliac with the blacked out beauty not your kink? It would'a made one hell on an upload for Onlyfans. No? Not you. You’re way too honorable to get your rocks off with a damsel in distress.”
Shaking his head he rolled his eyes and turned back to the window. Dalilah smiled again. She liked that she could still get so far underneath his skin.
“What was I supposed to do just let you lay there and die?”
But through all the sorrow
We were riding high
And the truth of the matter is
I never let you go, let you go
This time the smile that came to her lips was almost kind.
“And they say that chivalry is dead.”
***
For the rest of the afternoon they had very little left to say. Dalilah rested in the bed, while Michael fell back on old habits. He heated up some soup for her in sullen silence, just as he had a million times before for his mother in the past. Dalilah managed to choke down a few spoonfuls, while Michael talked on the phone to arrange her return to Chicago. As the bowl went cold on the table in front of her she could just manage to make out his side of the conversation coming from the limited privacy just behind the partially closed bathroom door.
“You need to be there to pick her up when she lands… BECAUSE I’m talking to YOU… You think I like it? But who else is there Sinister? Keith is a decent guy but that dude doesn’t have the emotional maturity to handle something like this. And Mayhem would probably use this as an excuse to try to get in her pants…
You KNOW damn well that Lacey would just make it worse! The last thing she needs is another disappointed mother figure telling her how much she’s fucked up her life… And IF I even bother calling that EWC Doctor who let her leave his office after a conversation like that alone they’d probably pull her roster spot for this shit. And right now that seems to be the one thing keeping her even a little bit sane…
Well, Because I know you’re a cold ass bastard, but you’re also the only one over there that can tell her what she needs to hear without judgment about what she tried to do. Okay? Okay. She’ll be coming into O’hare on the five o’clock flight… I’ll get her on the damn plane, you just make sure that you’re there on the other end to meet her.”
An hour later Mercenary stashed her bag in the back of a waiting Uber and told the driver not to make any stops until they got to the airport. Dalilah took the ride alone with him following behind on his Harley. When they got to the airport he walked her into the terminal to make sure she didn’t get any ideas about missing her plane. Standing together at the security stop, a forcefield of awkward energy caused all the other waiting passengers to keep a safe few paces between themselves and the forbidding duo.
As Dalilah’s turn in line came closer she abruptly turned and threw her arms around Mike’s torso, pulling herself close enough to rest her head on his chest, in an embrace that was only half-heartedly reciprocated by its intended target. Dalilah held on anyway until the awkward moment became unbearable for them both. Letting go, she looked up at him with tears teasing the edges of her wild, wide eyes.
“Thank you.” she said, with none of the sarcastic irony one might normally expect from someone possessed of her cold and careless persona.
“For what?” he replied in a manner that only attempted to remain detached. He refused to meet her gaze.
“For not hating me too much to come find me.” she replied in a gentle tone that was both sad and a bit submissive.
When he finally looked down the emotion behind his eyes matched that tone though his expression did its best not to betray him.
“I don’t hate you Dalilah. You, Me… All that other shit, that’s all in the past. And I’m doing my damnedest to leave the past behind me . Maybe you should try to do the same.”
With the surprising wisp of a smile he put his hand against her cheek and used his thumb to wipe away a single tear that she had finally allowed to escape the confines of her eye. She allowed this last moment of intimacy to linger until he carefully, but firmly, pulled his hand away.
“Next in line please.”
The guard’s harsh, robotic voice put a final stamp on the exchange. Mercenary straightened his jacket and nodded.
“Try to take care of yourself.”
Dalilah paused before answering the gatekeeper’s call, turning back to face him.
“I didn’t need you to rescue me you know.”
He laughed ironically.
“Yeah. I know.”
She smiled at him with wistful affection.
“But you couldn’t help yourself could you?”
He laughed again, this time at himself.
“Naw. That hero complex is hard shit to shake.”
He paused, seeming uncertain about what he was about to tell her.
“Dalilh... I’m gonna be a Dad.”
He blurted it nervously, as if afraid speaking the words too loudly might jinx it.
Staring at him she stumbled over how she wanted to reply. Part of her, something dark and twisted that had followed her back from the brink of death, wanted to capitalize on the chance to cause him pain. But the human side, the girl that he’d tried to save, even though he was no longer obligated to do so, decided to speak instead.
“I hope it’s a daughter. You’re the best Dad a girl could ever have.”
She turned away from this sentiment to face the cold and uncomfortably clinical ceremony of a TSA security screening. She found that practiced ritual far preferable to another second of shared intimacy. As she went to board she saw that Michael was still watching her from beyond the barrier.
When she at last disappeared up the gangway she was relieved to be out of his sight. He walked over to the wall of windows to watch the plane taxi the runway and ascend until it was too small for him to see. In his heart he wished her safe travels as he felt the book finally close on her chapter in his story.
If he only knew where the next chapter would take her, or the Hell he’d unknowingly sent her to find.
End Chapter 2
