Page 76 of Shattered

Now it stayed closed.

I knocked. “Delia. It’s me.”

Nothing.

I knocked again. “I know you’re in there. Your neighbor said she heard music yesterday.”

Still nothing.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

Five minutes passed. Then ten. I was about to knock again when the door opened.

Delia stood there looking like someone I barely recognized.

Her hair was pulled into a knot that looked like it hadn’t been touched in days. Paint-stained clothes that said she’d tried to work. Dark circles under her eyes that made her face look hollow. Gaunt.

But it was her eyes that destroyed me—empty. Completely empty.

Like someone had turned off all the lights inside her and left only darkness.

“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice was stripped bare.

“To see if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. You can leave now.”

Every instinct I had was screaming to pull her against me. To wrap my arms around her and hold her until she stopped looking so breakable, to breathe her in and remind both of us that she was still here. Still alive.

But I couldn’t move. Because something in her posture said don’t touch me.

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“No.”

“Delia please?—”

“What do you need, Axel? What are you here for?”

“I’m here to check on you.”

“You’ve checked. I’m alive. You can go now.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“That’s exactly how this works. I asked for space. You’re supposed to give it to me.”

“It’s been two weeks.”

“And?”

“And you’re not answering anyone’s calls. Daniel’s worried. I’m worried.”

“I don’t have the capacity to worry about other people’s worry right now.” She leaned against the doorframe—the movement looked exhausting, like standing upright took everything she had. “My mother is dead. I get to fall apart alone if I want to.”

The words were sharp. Defensive. But underneath I could hear how tired she was. How completely done.

I took a step closer, reaching out to touch her arm. To offer some kind of comfort. Something.