A/N I wrote a part 2 because I was stuck in traffic again! Hahaha. This time it's Delphine's POV and this takes place right after she sends Delphine out her room upon knowing she works for Leekie.
You feel your cheeks begin to smolder. You don't even need to touch them with your cool hands to know that they're flushed with a deep pink but you feel them anyway. Probably just to check that you are capable of physically manifesting your disdain. Check. You don't cry when you're sad. You never do. You cry when you're angry. You kick and scream when you are frustrated. When you feel conned. When you feel stupid and idiotic despite the fact that you know that you actually are pretty clever.
Your chokes have subsided into inaudible whimpers but the ache in your chest remains. There's an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach and you're certain that they're not nearly as beautiful as butterflies. Moths, perhaps. The inside of your head is the dance floor to a rave party, a never-ending clutter of thoughts that make it too hard for you to function. You feel the beat of the bass drum though the arteries in your temples while the dull buzzing noise that ceases to ring in your ears make it impossible to hear a thing.
But you hear her words again in your head through the clamour.
"I didn't want to fall for you. I wasn't supposed to. But I have."
Bullshit. You want to believe it. You desperately search for reasons to believe it but you just can't. It's all bullshit. You wanted her to want you but it was all a lie. You knew she was dangerous and that unconditionally is the worst part of it all. You played the dummy. You overlooked every single logical thing you've concluded. You pushed reason away all for some silly crush on someone who is never going to love you. For someone who could easily lie to your face. That's the worst part of it all. You knew. But you didn't move away. You trusted her even. You idiot. You're an idiot. A dimwit. A naïve little geek.
You stare at the half-packed suit case with your heavy eyes, realising that running away wouldn't fix a broken heart. You sit on your unkempt bed, random articles of clothing sprawled across your proximity.
My bed is almost as chaotic as my life, you think.
Heh.
You lie on top of your messy sheets with your hands on your stomach, interlocked with each other. You realise that you long for comfort. You can feel your eyebrows gesture a distress call for nobody because you're all alone in your room now and suddenly, you feel yourself heaving, searching for any oxygen your lungs have strength to hold. You're not sobbing nor shaking. Your head isn't spinning like it was. You cry. But this time, you're crying not because you're angry. Not because you're frustrated. You're crying because you're sad. Lonely even. Devastated. Shattered.
And you suddenly regret sending Delphine out the door.