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I sat on the plush rug, waiting patiently for Delilah. Everyday after school she would meet me in the treehouse to talk. She had purposefully picked a place that symbolized childhood. A treehouse forgotten when its own children had grown up. I worried quite a bit about my dear Delilah, she had a darkness following her precise and delicate movements. She tiptoed around the word, but I still knew. There was a reason she was stuck in her rather immature ways.

Right on time, exactly 3:17, I saw her charcoal hair peek around the make-shift curtain. "Brandon!" I love the way she smiled at me as if we didn't see each other every day. She knew I'd be there, but she still acted surprised every time.

"Hello Delilah, how was your day?" I smiled encouragingly. She slowly sat crosslegged next to me, her overflowing backpack placed carefully onto my lap.

"I'm okay. Today was a good day. I'd rather talk about you, Brandon. Can I hear about your day instead?"

This was to be expected. Delilah often turned the attention to me within moments of her arrival. She came from a place where children should be seen not heard. "My teacher still wants to meet the lovely Delilah Thompson I talk about all day. My poem has been taken to the state competition, people are asking to meet my muse."

The expression on her pale face was impossible to read. "You know they can't..."

"Why not? You have never given me a reason as to why no one can meet you."

"I can't tell you... I-I wouldn't want to hurt you... or ruin our friendship." She bent her head until her chin rested on her pendant. Once again she had avoided giving me a proper answer.

"None of that makes any sense..." I frowned as her shoulders slumped. "I'd rather not fight."

"Then let's not." Her smile didn't reach her large grey eyes.

"How has your dad been treating you?"

Delilah's voice cracked. "F-Fine." She subconsciously tugged on her sweater sleeves.

My heart dropped to the floorboards. "Okay, we won't talk about it."

It was hard to tell how long we sat in silence before Delilah stood. "I have to go." She paused to straighten out every crease in her shirt. I didn't reply as Delilah had never given me a proper answer to that either. She stared at me for a while, then shook her head as if I was in denial about something obvious. By the time I looked away from my shoes, she had vanished again.

I sat for a long time watching a spider crawl in and out of a knothole. It wasn't until I tried to move, that I noticed Delilah's backpack still in my lap. I peered inside, hoping to convince myself she didn't need it. Several textbooks and sheets of paper filled the bag. Despite how full it was, everything appeared perfectly neat, not a folded corner to be seen, color coordinated paperclips marking which papers went with each book. I found myself facing a dilemma.

Should I leave that bag here in hopes of Delilah coming back for it, or should I go try and find her myself?

I realized I desperately wanted to find Delilah's house, so I slung her heavy bag over my shoulder and struggled down the rickety ladder. I stumbled through the remains of the white picket fence that had once bordered the home. It was hard to imagine someone just leaving this beautiful place behind. No wonder Delilah had wanted to take it over for herself.

The backpack strap dug into my shoulder blade as I walked down the sidewalk. The manicured lawns were replaced by junk filled ones nearly devoid of grass, as I crossed the county line. I was careful to avoid tripping over places where the end of the concrete stuck out. It looked as if someone had tried to jackhammer it all up, then stopped half way through.

Taking into account the homes within the Gregory County School District, I narrowed Delilah's neighborhood down to a mere 27 houses. The sun started to set in the distance as I adjusted the backpack again.

I wandered the streets for two hours, only able to take three houses off my list in the process. These were the abandoned ones, so I knew Delilah wasn't in one of them. The full moon lit my way as I retraced my steps back to the start of the street. The sounds of angry bulldogs scared me and I took off. The straps felt like hot barbed wire as I ran, panting, away from that awful neighborhood. Eventually I found myself back on my street, so I reluctantly took her bag back to the treehouse.

I could barely manage to get the bag up the ladder before I collapsed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon I sat on the faded carpet in our treehouse once more. A familiar oval face appeared in the doorway. "Brandon!" Never straying from her script, she gave me a wide smile.

"Did you get in trouble with your dad for leaving your bag with me?" I held the backpack up by its straps. If there was going to be an awful encounter to hear about, we had better get it over with.

Delilah blinked. "Um, no... There weren't any problems with him or my teachers." She sat down, poised as always, in her usual spot.

"Really?" I blinked back.

"Uh... yes. I was just as surprised as you are." She took her bag out of my hands, and placed it in my lap. I dropped the issue and we talked for a while about my day. "I have to go." She leaned over and ruffled my hair, brushing it into my eyes. By the time I had pushed it back, she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our routine continued for about a week until Delilah arrived one day teary eyed. Her movements were stiff, as if she was in pain. "Brandon." Her smile was less than half hearted.

"Are you all right Delilah?" She sat her bag in my lap, before sitting on the spot next to me.

"It's just my dad again..." She rubbed her pendant as she spoke.

"There's nothing just about your dad." I held her cold, soft hand in mine. My throat seized up, I couldn't bring myself to ask the dreaded question. "Did he...?"

Delilah swallowed. She didn't answer for a full three minutes. "They..."

"Fucking bastards."

"Brandon..."

"They raped you Delilah! There's no way you can be okay with that."

"You think I don't know what they did? Laying back in their recliners afterwards while I...!" She took several deep breaths. "Never mind..."

"Why do you act as if your problems are irrelevant to me and the rest of the world? I'm just trying to help you..."

"Because they are... you wouldn't understand." Without letting go of my hand she shifted to pull her knees to her chin. "I never asked for your help."

"All you ever say is that I wouldn't understand, but I'm your friend... I'm here to help you." I squeezed her hand gently.

Delilah tensed as if she wanted to stand and storm out. I knew she wouldn't do anything out of the ordinary like that. It was too unpredictable for her. "Its best you just come to terms with the fact that no one can meet me, and that there's no way for either of us to interfere with the other's life. If you can't... You'd best just forget about me."

I didn't know what to say, so we sat in silence until she stood right on cue. "I ha..."

"You have to go, I understand." I dropped my head to my chest.

I felt her let go of my hand, and then she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon at exactly 3:17 I heard a soft voice in the doorway. "Brandon."

Delilah sat her bag in my lap then sat down. "How was your day?"

"Fine." I fiddled with the tattered backpack straps. "Yours? And I want the honest answer."

"...Today was okay..." She stared out the treehouse's window, studying the leaves to avoid looking at me.

"So last night was the problem?" I sat there waiting for her to tell me the truth. I knew what he did to her. I'd seen the bruises on her thighs during a heatwave earlier that summer. I also knew how often he did it. She was too weak to fight back, and she would't let me help.

Delilah had accused me before of wanting to play the knight in shining armor. She said I made up problems to solve so I could feel wanted. She turned away from me, just waiting until she could leave. "Just forget about me and my problems, lets talk about you."

"No! He's escalating. Its only going to get worse from here..." I yanked her arm and shoved her sweater sleeve up. Her arms were covered in nasty dark purple bruises, the types of bruises that could only come from the hands of a grown man. "Was he drunk again?" Her demeanor's shift was a good enough answer. "Aren't you even a bit worried about what he does to you?" I poked her stomach. "You're always hungry, you're too tired to eat..."

She didn't even turn around. "I have to go."

I couldn't do anything but watch her leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:29. I paced around the small treehouse. 3:35 Delilah had never been late. Never. The faster my heart raced the quicker I moved. 3:51. I couldn't stop checking my watch. 4:05. I waited all evening for her, but she never came.

The next day I wandered the streets after she hadn't shown again. "Just forget about me and my problems..." I replayed her words over and over in my head. Had she left me?

I waited, then wandered the next day too. I couldn't sit still. My feet took me to her neighborhood again. I kept hoping she'd look out of one of those houses and see me, but she didn't. The next day, I found her.

It's sad to think that after all Delilah's kindness and compassion, only two people came to her funeral. The grave digger and her only friend. The man didn't see me as I stood next to the casket. I think it was the first time I finally came to terms with the fact that I was just her imaginary friend.

I was here to protect her from her loneliness, but I couldn't save her from her father. Whether he killed her during another of his vicious attacks, drunk and babbling as he forced himself into his own daughter, or if she took her own life, I guess I'll never know.

But the fact that the bastard wasn't there himself, gave me hope that he'd be in prison for a long time.

Through the wooden lid of the casket, her face was emotionless. Someone had been kind enough to give her long sleeves and pants, so I couldn't see the bruises and scars. Even in death she looked elegant, her pose perfect. She would have appreciated that.

I tried to talk about my made up life of perfection, but in our hearts we both knew I wasn't even real. I often felt real, but if I was, I would have saved her somehow. Delilah wouldn't fight back, and I couldn't. She had always treated herself as if she was the one who didn't truly breathe. And maybe she was right.

I thought it was silly the way she protected my feelings, I had never realized I even had any. I didn't know what to do with myself after Delilah was gone. She was the only one who knew me.

The only thing I could think to do, was write out Delilah's tale so maybe... maybe she wouldn't be forgotten. I don't know if I'll be stuck here, I'd never considered what would happen to me if Delilah died. I had always hoped she wouldn't need me anymore, and then... I'd just go away.

I still worry about my dear Delilah, and out of habit I still wait for her everyday. She never shows.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

I sat on the plush rug, waiting patiently for Delilah. Everyday after school she would meet me in the treehouse to talk. She had purposefully picked a place that symbolized childhood. A treehouse forgotten when its own children had grown up. I worried quite a bit about my dear Delilah, she had a darkness following her precise and delicate movements. She tiptoed around the word, but I still knew. There was a reason she was stuck in her rather immature ways.

Right on time, exactly 3:17, I saw her charcoal hair peek around the make-shift curtain. "Brandon!" I love the way she smiled at me as if we didn't see each other every day. She knew I'd be there, but she still acted surprised every time.

"Hello Delilah, how was your day?" I smiled encouragingly. She slowly sat crosslegged next to me, her overflowing backpack placed carefully onto my lap.

"I'm okay. Today was a good day. I'd rather talk about you, Brandon. Can I hear about your day instead?"

This was to be expected. Delilah often turned the attention to me within moments of her arrival. She came from a place where children should be seen not heard. "My teacher still wants to meet the lovely Delilah Thompson I talk about all day. My poem has been taken to the state competition, people are asking to meet my muse."

The expression on her pale face was impossible to read. "You know they can't..."

"Why not? You have never given me a reason as to why no one can meet you."

"I can't tell you... I-I wouldn't want to hurt you... or ruin our friendship." She bent her head until her chin rested on her pendant. Once again she had avoided giving me a proper answer.

"None of that makes any sense..." I frowned as her shoulders slumped. "I'd rather not fight."

"Then let's not." Her smile didn't reach her large grey eyes.

"How has your dad been treating you?"

Delilah's voice cracked. "F-Fine." She subconsciously tugged on her sweater sleeves.

My heart dropped to the floorboards. "Okay, we won't talk about it."

It was hard to tell how long we sat in silence before Delilah stood. "I have to go." She paused to straighten out every crease in her shirt. I didn't reply as Delilah had never given me a proper answer to that either. She stared at me for a while, then shook her head as if I was in denial about something obvious. By the time I looked away from my shoes, she had vanished again.

I sat for a long time watching a spider crawl in and out of a knothole. It wasn't until I tried to move, that I noticed Delilah's backpack still in my lap. I peered inside, hoping to convince myself she didn't need it. Several textbooks and sheets of paper filled the bag. Despite how full it was, everything appeared perfectly neat, not a folded corner to be seen, color coordinated paperclips marking which papers went with each book. I found myself facing a dilemma.

Should I leave that bag here in hopes of Delilah coming back for it, or should I go try and find her myself?

I realized I desperately wanted to find Delilah's house, so I slung her heavy bag over my shoulder and struggled down the rickety ladder. I stumbled through the remains of the white picket fence that had once bordered the home. It was hard to imagine someone just leaving this beautiful place behind. No wonder Delilah had wanted to take it over for herself.

The backpack strap dug into my shoulder blade as I walked down the sidewalk. The manicured lawns were replaced by junk filled ones nearly devoid of grass, as I crossed the county line. I was careful to avoid tripping over places where the end of the concrete stuck out. It looked as if someone had tried to jackhammer it all up, then stopped half way through.

Taking into account the homes within the Gregory County School District, I narrowed Delilah's neighborhood down to a mere 27 houses. The sun started to set in the distance as I adjusted the backpack again.

I wandered the streets for two hours, only able to take three houses off my list in the process. These were the abandoned ones, so I knew Delilah wasn't in one of them. The full moon lit my way as I retraced my steps back to the start of the street. The sounds of angry bulldogs scared me and I took off. The straps felt like hot barbed wire as I ran, panting, away from that awful neighborhood. Eventually I found myself back on my street, so I reluctantly took her bag back to the treehouse.

I could barely manage to get the bag up the ladder before I collapsed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon I sat on the faded carpet in our treehouse once more. A familiar oval face appeared in the doorway. "Brandon!" Never straying from her script, she gave me a wide smile.

"Did you get in trouble with your dad for leaving your bag with me?" I held the backpack up by its straps. If there was going to be an awful encounter to hear about, we had better get it over with.

Delilah blinked. "Um, no... There weren't any problems with him or my teachers." She sat down, poised as always, in her usual spot.

"Really?" I blinked back.

"Uh... yes. I was just as surprised as you are." She took her bag out of my hands, and placed it in my lap. I dropped the issue and we talked for a while about my day. "I have to go." She leaned over and ruffled my hair, brushing it into my eyes. By the time I had pushed it back, she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our routine continued for about a week until Delilah arrived one day teary eyed. Her movements were stiff, as if she was in pain. "Brandon." Her smile was less than half hearted.

"Are you all right Delilah?" She sat her bag in my lap, before sitting on the spot next to me.

"It's just my dad again..." She rubbed her pendant as she spoke.

"There's nothing just about your dad." I held her cold, soft hand in mine. My throat seized up, I couldn't bring myself to ask the dreaded question. "Did he...?"

Delilah swallowed. She didn't answer for a full three minutes. "They..."

"Fucking bastards."

"Brandon..."

"They raped you Delilah! There's no way you can be okay with that."

"You think I don't know what they did? Laying back in their recliners afterwards while I...!" She took several deep breaths. "Never mind..."

"Why do you act as if your problems are irrelevant to me and the rest of the world? I'm just trying to help you..."

"Because they are... you wouldn't understand." Without letting go of my hand she shifted to pull her knees to her chin. "I never asked for your help."

"All you ever say is that I wouldn't understand, but I'm your friend... I'm here to help you." I squeezed her hand gently.

Delilah tensed as if she wanted to stand and storm out. I knew she wouldn't do anything out of the ordinary like that. It was too unpredictable for her. "Its best you just come to terms with the fact that no one can meet me, and that there's no way for either of us to interfere with the other's life. If you can't... You'd best just forget about me."

I didn't know what to say, so we sat in silence until she stood right on cue. "I ha..."

"You have to go, I understand." I dropped my head to my chest.

I felt her let go of my hand, and then she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon at exactly 3:17 I heard a soft voice in the doorway. "Brandon."

Delilah sat her bag in my lap then sat down. "How was your day?"

"Fine." I fiddled with the tattered backpack straps. "Yours? And I want the honest answer."

"...Today was okay..." She stared out the treehouse's window, studying the leaves to avoid looking at me.

"So last night was the problem?" I sat there waiting for her to tell me the truth. I knew what he did to her. I'd seen the bruises on her thighs during a heatwave earlier that summer. I also knew how often he did it. She was too weak to fight back, and she would't let me help.

Delilah had accused me before of wanting to play the knight in shining armor. She said I made up problems to solve so I could feel wanted. She turned away from me, just waiting until she could leave. "Just forget about me and my problems, lets talk about you."

"No! He's escalating. Its only going to get worse from here..." I yanked her arm and shoved her sweater sleeve up. Her arms were covered in nasty dark purple bruises, the types of bruises that could only come from the hands of a grown man. "Was he drunk again?" Her demeanor's shift was a good enough answer. "Aren't you even a bit worried about what he does to you?" I poked her stomach. "You're always hungry, you're too tired to eat..."

She didn't even turn around. "I have to go."

I couldn't do anything but watch her leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:29. I paced around the small treehouse. 3:35 Delilah had never been late. Never. The faster my heart raced the quicker I moved. 3:51. I couldn't stop checking my watch. 4:05. I waited all evening for her, but she never came.

The next day I wandered the streets after she hadn't shown again. "Just forget about me and my problems..." I replayed her words over and over in my head. Had she left me?

I waited, then wandered the next day too. I couldn't sit still. My feet took me to her neighborhood again. I kept hoping she'd look out of one of those houses and see me, but she didn't. The next day, I found her.

It's sad to think that after all Delilah's kindness and compassion, only two people came to her funeral. The grave digger and her only friend. The man didn't see me as I stood next to the casket. I think it was the first time I finally came to terms with the fact that I was just her imaginary friend.

I was here to protect her from her loneliness, but I couldn't save her from her father. Whether he killed her during another of his vicious attacks, drunk and babbling as he forced himself into his own daughter, or if she took her own life, I guess I'll never know.

But the fact that the bastard wasn't there himself, gave me hope that he'd be in prison for a long time.

Through the wooden lid of the casket, her face was emotionless. Someone had been kind enough to give her long sleeves and pants, so I couldn't see the bruises and scars. Even in death she looked elegant, her pose perfect. She would have appreciated that.

I tried to talk about my made up life of perfection, but in our hearts we both knew I wasn't even real. I often felt real, but if I was, I would have saved her somehow. Delilah wouldn't fight back, and I couldn't. She had always treated herself as if she was the one who didn't truly breathe. And maybe she was right.

I thought it was silly the way she protected my feelings, I had never realized I even had any. I didn't know what to do with myself after Delilah was gone. She was the only one who knew me.

The only thing I could think to do, was write out Delilah's tale so maybe... maybe she wouldn't be forgotten. I don't know if I'll be stuck here, I'd never considered what would happen to me if Delilah died. I had always hoped she wouldn't need me anymore, and then... I'd just go away.

I still worry about my dear Delilah, and out of habit I still wait for her everyday. She never shows.