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Delilah FROZE UP at that question. Or was she TREMBLING? She honestly COULDNāT TELL. Hell, in all honesty she could no longer even feel her HEART beating in her chest. But she wasnāt DEAD. At least... Not PHYSICALLY. She knew that to be sure. (Death wouldnāt HURT THIS MUCH.) Fists clenched and unclenched. Jaw locked and STAYED THAT WAY. Then the TERMITES hit. First in her WRISTS then in her NECK. It always felt like it was BENEATH THE SURFACE. In her BLOOD. Not that the SURFACE was clean. No the surface was FILTHY. Thatās why she would so OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVELY wash her hands. Which she was trying to STEADY HER FEET ENOUGH to go and do JUST THAT. It was precisely why HOARSE SPONGES & RAZOR BLADES & FREAKING TOWELS & ANYTHING THAT COULD FEASIBLY BE APPLIED TOO AGGRESSIVELY were things that her family had to WATCH OUT FOR. But the itching was BENEATH HER SKIN. It was coming from something INSIDE OF HER. And as she was asked that question and as the skin FLAKED AWAY & BLED. And as her breathing SPED UP and her heart RACED and as she CRIED, she could feel it SCREAMING OUT... THE DARKNESS. And she had to CATCH HERSELF but she couldnāt CATCH HERSELF so she just hoped to God that she didnāt CATCH THEM. She just... COULDNāT HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā EVER.
