Page 94 of The Perfect Wrong

Shit.

Staggering to the sink between us, I pray the plumbing isn’t shot. There’s a rattling hiss behind the wall before rusty water sprays out.

Barely a trickle, but it’ll do. It’s all I need to clean the murder off my hands.

For a rough second, I want to punch the broken mirror on the wall when I see my own reflection.

My fingers dab at the flecks of blood on my neck. I stare at the limp bodies on the floor, long trails of crimson snaking behind them.

Then I hear another panicked whimper, Delia struggling to breathe. By the time I cross the room, lifting her up, she’s breathing like she just ran a marathon.

“Princess, are you—”

She’s not.

Nothing about her is okay.

I gaze into her vacant eyes, shaking my head, searching for the familiar bright spark that’s gone out of her like a snuffed-out candle.

“Delia,” I whisper again once we’re outside, gently shaking her as I set her down.

She just stands there, looking right through me.

“Delia, fuck, say something!”

“R-red,” she stammers.

I cock my head, looking at her. I don’t understand.

“Red like death. Black like their eyes. Yellow like...yellow likefear.” She’s speaking so weakly, her face a mask of absolute numbness.

Oh, hell.

Oh, fuck!

The last thing I hear is the approaching wail of sirens as I pull her into my arms, cradling her, begging her to come back to me.

In another life, this would’ve been our night.

Now, instead of giving her a beautiful memory, my fuckery has infected her with my nightmare.

11

Yellow Fear (Delia)

I’ve never been so lost in my life.

The next day is a messy smear, a hazy blur where time skips and emotions bleed out.

Fitful naps and muttered curses.

Staring through walls, soaked with sweat, crying.

Chris talking to the police and whispering in low, heated conversations with strange people over the phone. Officers coming and pressing me for a statement, and Chris holding my hand constantly, growling at them to back off when I break down in sobs that choke off every breath.

God.

The way he holds me might be the one and only reason I stay sane.