Page 82 of Delirium
“Then do something!”
“I don’t know what!” I thundered. “I’m out of ideas. I’m afraid that if I push, she’s just going to get up and leave. I’m afraid if I show her how much I need her to come back to me, she’ll just run again.”
Zoe’s eyes flared, a blazing inferno burning in those irises, and without preamble, she came closer to me and smacked me on the back of my head.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“For being stupid,” she stated, taking a step back. “If Ophelia wanted to run, she would’ve been in China by now. She would be anywhere but here, but she isn’t. She’s upstairs, in your room, I might add, waiting for you to show her the path. We all know she’s strong, but sometimes even the strong ones need help. Sometimes the strength isn’t in isolating yourself, but in accepting the help, and she needs it right now. She needs you to hold her, to tell her shit is going to be okay.”
“Did she tell you this?” I asked, latching onto Zoe’s words like a man starved. I wanted to hear those words from Ophelia. I wanted to know what she thought, what she wanted to do.
I wanted her to come to me of her own volition. I’d made so many mistakes with her, and the last thing I would want to do was make another mistake, because I misjudged the situation.
“She didn’t have to,” Zoe answered. “She keeps telling me that she needs time and time and time, but she lets you sleep in the same room. She can’t fall asleep without you there, without your touch. She isn’t eating if it isn’t with you because you bring her peace. No matter what happens, you bring her peace, Storm, and I think that’s what she needs.”
Fuck.
“And instead of being there with her, you’re hiding out here, pretending everything is okay.”
“I’m not pretending,” I grunted. “I just don’t know what to do.”
And that was the truth. I had no idea how to help her. I worried so much that the knot in the center of my chest couldn’t loosen even if I wanted it to. I’ve tried just being there, waiting for her to call me, to ask me to hold her, but so far, she’d simply ignored me. She was only barely communicating at night, when her eyes held all the pain of this world, and when her lips pressed against my hand as she curled into a fetal position, just before falling asleep.
She communicated with her body, with her eyes, with simple touches, but words were what I needed. I was a simple man, and I needed to know how to do things right.
I needed her to guide me.
“So, what do you suggest then?” I asked. “What should I do?”
“For starters,” Zoe eyed me, her nose wrinkling, “you should take a shower and shave that bird’s nest from your face.”
My hand instinctively went to my beard, the prickly strands digging into my palm.
“I thought it looked cool.”
“It looks as if something died in there,” she replied, making me laugh. “Seriously, do something about this.” She pointed at my entire body. “She might be a simple girl, but that doesn’t mean that she would want to spend time with your smelly ass.”
“I’m not smelly,” I bit back. “I took a shower this morning.”
“And the morning was at least five hours ago, Storm. Take a shower, shave that shit off of your face, and then go to her and pull her out of her bed. If I go to her room one more time, only to find her curled on top of that big-ass bed, I’m going to start screaming. And then take her out,” she grumbled. “Ophelia kept talking about that day when you guys went for burgers, so maybe do something like that. Show her how much she means to you. How much all of them mean to you. Don’t leave her alone just because she isn’t capable of voicing what she needs.”
And it dawned on me—I was doing just that, leaving her alone. I thought it was what she wanted, but just because we wanted something, that didn’t mean that it was what we needed. She needed me. She needed all of us.
She needed to know that she wasn’t alone.
“I have an idea.” I grinned. “But I’m going to need your help.”
* * *
The floor creakedas I entered the dark room, seeing the pulled curtains over the windows and the curled body on top of the bed, covered with the blanket. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even look at me as I approached the bed, my legs eating up the distance between the two of us.
Her hand was stretched toward the sofa chair where I usually slept, her eyes plastered on the wall opposite the bed, but she didn’t move. She didn’t do anything how she usually would.
“Sunshine,” I croaked, going down on my knees as I stopped next to the bed. “I need you to come back to me, Sunshine,” I murmured, taking her hand in mine, placing my lips on top of it, trying to pull her back from this state she was in.
“I don’t want to move,” she replied, her lifeless voice echoing around us, piercing me straight through my heart. “It’s too hard, Stormy,” she whispered. “I’m tired. Tired of moving. Tired of running. Tired of fighting.”
“Phee,” I mumbled, biting down on the emotions threatening to spill over my lips. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. I know it hurts right now, but I need you. We all need you.”
