She felt dizzy, almost nauseous with the need to eat now that she had realised it. She looked down at the passenger seat, to the pie that the waitress had given her. Tentatively, she reached for it, prying open the lid with one hand and peering inside. It looked delicious, the pie inside the tub, and her stomach growled with wanton need for it. With shaking fingers, she broke a small section off and brought it to her lips, smelling the sweet cherry filling trapped between the crumbly pastry crust. She chewed on the small section of pie, the flavours strong and vibrant but when she tried to swallow it down, it stuck like a lump in her throat, and she gagged repeatedly, her hand grabbing for the bottle of warm water.
She gulped down the water, feeling the pie finally slide down her throat, scratching its descent before landing into her empty stomach. She closed the lid on the pie box, deciding not to eat any more of it.
Her children would have loved it so much, and that was why she didn’t want to eat it; if they couldn’t have it, then why should she.
The day was drawing to another close anyway, and she realised that she should probably stop and rest. A flashing neon sign shone up ahead, letting her know that there was a turnoff coming up. A motel and restaurant. Delores pulled the silver car off the highway and into the car park, easing it into a small space next to a red Ford. She cut the engine and stared straight ahead to sort through the jumble in her mind. She’d need to speak again. She hated having to speak to anyone. Hated having to make pointless small talk. To form words and sentences, to not show what a total mess she was.
She hadn’t always been like this. Once, she’d been a loving wife and doting mother. Once she’d had everything that a woman could desire; the husband, the children, the house. She’d it all. But somewhere along the road it had all gone wrong. So, so wrong.
She just didn’t know why.
All she knew was that she was bad. From the inside out. Did it really matter what had turned her bad? All she knew was that evil lived within her, and she had done the unspeakable. A crime so vile that even God would not forgive her. And she couldn’t blame him.
Michael’s voice rang through her head.
‘You deserve everything that’s coming to you after this, Del! After what you’ve done...’
His voice came to her, a hissing of words, begging her to make the pain stop. But she couldn’t. It was already too late by then.
Michael.
Oh, how she loved him. He was everything to her at one time. Her entire world wrapped up in a smart suit and dimples. They were young when they met and fell in love, their whole futures laid out before them. She’d gotten pregnant quickly, too quickly, but he’d supported her regardless. And he’d supported her through everything that had come after. How could she have hurt him so badly when he’d only ever been good to her?
He was a good husband and she was a bad wife.
He was a good father and she was just plain evil.
It was as simple as that.
She angled the mirror to look at her reflection. She wasn’t shocked by what she saw. Pale skin covered in pink blotches. Red-rimmed eyes, with dark grey circles underneath like she hadn’t slept in a week. She was granted snatches of sleep and solitude before the nightmares came, but she always awoke screaming their names and begging for the forgiveness that she knew she wasn’t worthy of.
Delores dabbed her cheeks dry, and ran her fingers through her knotted hair. Reaching down, she grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car, the high temperature assaulting her with full force. Even though it was cooling into early evening, heat still clung to everything like gum to a shoe. She glanced at the car next to her, seeing a child’s seat in the back.
Her heart froze in its relentless beating. Her lungs released the air trapped within. Fresh salty tears dripped from her eyes and she stumbled back against her car, a quiet sob exiting her mouth. She brought her hands up to her face and took slow, steadying breaths until she felt calm enough to pass by the red Ford and the child’s seat.
She quickly headed to the reception desk to book a room for the night, knowing that she probably wouldn’t stay the whole night through anyway, she rarely did. Sleep constantly evaded her, and her screams often caused problems for other guests, meaning that the managers would often knock on her door in the early hours and ask her to leave.
But tonight she was so incredibly tired. Perhaps tonight she could sleep through. Perhaps tonight the nightmares would not come. And the screams and blood would abate for long enough to help her think straight.
Deep down she felt that a little sleep might help her to make sense of this most senseless thing. That perhaps, like the waitress had said, tomorrow would be a new day and this would all look better. It would all make sense.
Perhaps this was a nightmare that she couldn’t wake from. Because the thought that this was real was too much to bear.
The little bell jingled as she swung the glass door open, and the young man behind the counter looked up with a pleasant smile, his eyes instantly showing concern as he saw her distress.
“Hey, you okay, Miss?” He came from around the counter and reached for her, but Delores stepped back before his hand made contact with her arm.
“Yes, fine, thank you.” She blinked rapidly, clearing the unshed tears from her eyes and forcing herself to remain calm.
The young man stared at her a moment, taking in every inch of her before nervously tucking his long straggly hair behind his ears. He was handsome, in an untraditional sense, with sharp angles to his jaw, and a straight nose. His hair hung long around his shoulders, and his frame was gangly rather than muscled. He pushed his black-framed glasses back up his nose and made his way around the counter once more, though he still looked unsure.
“What can I do for you then?” he replied hesitantly, a small frown furrowing his brow.
“A room.” Delores reached into her purse and pulled out her small wallet, fumbling for her credit card and ID. “A single please, nothing fancy.”
“$32.50 for one night. We have a great special on though, two nights for only fifty bucks and a complimentary bottle of wine,” he spoke with false excitement, as if this were the best deal of the century, but his face betrayed his enthusiasm. Or perhaps hers did, and it was hard for him to continue with so much gusto. “Everywhere is booked up for miles around, but we—,” he looked away from her face, a face that he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his days. “But we, umm, we saved rooms for any last minute…” his words trailed off as he looked up, finally meeting her gaze again.
She was pretty. Pale skin, deep brown eyes that he could lose himself in if he’d been allowed, and long brown hair that had probably once shone with strength and vitality. She was slender, easy on the eye with curves that dared to be handled and legs that went on for miles. She was older than he was, a real Mrs. Robinson type, but beyond that, she seemed haunted, cold, and lost to the world.
He reached behind him and grabbed a room key from the board. “Need to see some ID please,” he mumbled, accepting the card she was already handing him. He read it, staring confused at the woman on the card and then back to the woman stood in front of him with the rounded shoulders and the sallow skin, because they seemed like two very different women. It was as if the woman in front of him had had the life pulled out of her. And he’d been right—her hair used to be shiny, the kind you want to run your fingers through.