One

The sunlight was beginning to feel warm on her skin. A clear sign that winter was making way for spring. It had been a long, dreadfully cold and wet winter. She could barely remember the last time she had clearly seen the sun. Twigs and brown leaves snapped underneath her feet, giving her an acoustic while walking through the woods. Somewhere Balou, the black Labrador was well camouflaged behind some rotting tree trunks. She did not care, he would follow her. He always did.

She walked the same way every day. Past the smaller houses adjacent to the woods, through a lonely path towards the lake, around the lake back into town and into Jess Andrews Café. Three large coffees and a bunch of pastries later, Delilah made her way back to her home. It was the same, mundane routine every day, for one month.

Her mother had decided she had to get out of the house at least once. It was the same day she decided therapy was in order to fix her daughter. Georgia Callahan-Montgomery was a polished suburban mother, who now had a dark past and a depressed daughter. One she could fix, the other not so much. That was why she was trying so hard, at least according to Delilah.

Sunlight made the world seem like a better place. It almost blinded its faults away.

Dark thoughts for a dark person, Delilah thought. There was stuff standing on her lawn since the garage had been overly full. Her mother was cleaning out their house and newly decorating it. She probably decided to live in a house that resembled a mausoleum was not a healthy way to live. Delilah had not protested. Maybe it was good to cut all those things out. Like a tumour. Getting rid of the malignant parts of their lives.

At least that was what Dr Nighy had told her when Delilah mentioned it. Getting rid of things was apparently freeing.

On the lawn, Georgia stood in all her glory. Tall, blonde and looking fantastic for being 52. The polished beige pantsuit looked undoubtedly fantastic on her. Delilah on the other hand had taken after her father. She was rather tall for a woman, her hair a brown colour which seemed to change in every light and her skin being rather pale. Cute freckled adorner her face, but they were faint after the long winter. She simply wore a pair of mom jeans, a shirt and her favourite sneakers. It was just a walk in the morning.

Behind her mom, Logan stepped out onto the lawn. Logan Callahan-Montgomery was now 33 years old and the eldest child of her parents. He had studied law and now worked in a renowned law firm in New York. Very cliché in her opinion. While they were siblings, their twelve-year age-gap made a relationship difficult. By the time she was eight, he had moved out and switched universities to another state. He was also the epitome of their mother. Tall, blonde, blue eyes and an expensive character would describe them well. Logan had been her parents' first kid, they had him rather early. She and Callum followed years later.

Delilah handed each of them their coffee and carried the bag of baked goods inside. Everyone would take what they wanted. Balou trotted in beside her and received his breakfast.

"Hey D, can you do me a favour and pick something up for me at the bar? I forgot my ID there last night." Logan had grabbed a croissant and was munching on it while simultaneously sipping coffee. He knew she would drive by there on her way to therapy. Pathetic really, a 21-year-old being commanded by her mother. Logan had apparently rekindled with old friends from school when he decided to come by and help get rid of all the old stuff. Mostly Callum's, since they would likely never see him again.

"Yeah, I guess, but you owe me." There was only one bar in this god-forsaken suburbian city and it was rather pleasant for a bar.

Dr Nighy's practice was half an hour away from her house and Delilah enjoyed the drive every time. Who does not like driving and listening to music, right?

"He shot a friend of mine that day. Camilla Steward. She and I were really close friends, we had the same major and were living on the same floor. I still can't bring myself to talk to her or even look at her. He only shot her in the shoulder when she ran. I saw it." A choked noise escaped her throat as she relived that moment in her head. Callum had not spotted her yet, but he seemed to recognize Camilla as she ran the opposite of him. She was lucky he was not a great shot from a farther distance it seemed.

"He grinned, you know. After he heard her shriek. He was grinning like crazy." Dr Nighy looked at her as if she was expecting more.

"Delilah, we have been here, you know. You already told me that. But what happened after? What happened when he spotted you?" The doctor seemed to lose her patience with Delilah's strategy to evade the most painful memory yet. Not to have to tell that story every, that was her goal. How her own blood had intended to end her life. Delilah went quiet, her throat closed up.

"Maybe you should try to talk to Camilla. Is she still studying?" A small nod from Delilah. "Visit her. See something else than everything that reminds you of what happened that day."

No, Delilah could not even imagine talking to Camilla ever again. Her own shame was too great. Had it not been for her connection to Camilla, she would probably never have gotten shot in the first place. Camilla had tried to reach out a few times after. But as soon as she realized nothing would come of it, her messages and calls had stopped.

Delilah never had many friends. She kept the people she loved close and was not easily befriended. Once you were in, you were in. Camilla was one of those people. They had clicked immediately and spent so much time together, they knew everything about one another.

A deep sigh went through Delilah's body. She did not want to go anywhere or talk to anyone. She wanted to get back home and into her bed. Delilah could already picture her mother's look when she would return home. It was always so expectant as if she would suddenly be fine and the old her. But Delilah knew one thing her mother did not. The old her had died that day when her twin pressed the cold gun onto her forehead.

"Cal and I, we did everything together. It was like we were attached at the hip. I mean we even went to the same college. I knew him. There was not a day where I did not see him. But I never saw it coming. Never in my life would I have had even the slightest suspicion of him doing anything like that." Only Delilah knew that she did not only mean killing six other students and injuring many more. She meant attempting to do the exact same to his sister.

The rest of the hour went by rather quick. Dr Nighy pressed her on reconnecting with friends, doing something with her life and Delilah sat there, nodding obediently. She made the short way to the bar, where her brother forgot his ID, for whatever reason. Walking in, there were barely any people. Actually, she counted exactly two. The bartender cleaning glasses behind the counter and the elder looking man, who seemed to have passed out with a glass of beer in his hand.

"Hi, I'm Delilah, my brother Logan forgot his ID here last night." She smiled at the young man who had watched her like a hawk since she came inside. He wore a simple black shirt and jeans, with which one could see the tattoo on his right arm. He looked exactly like Delilah expected a typical bartender to look like. Tall, lean but muscular and dark features.

He simply nodded, pulling out something from underneath the counter and handing it to her. It was the ID, but underneath it was a brown package.

"I owe your brother something, be a dear and take this with you. That way, I don't have to bring it to him." His voice was dark but comforting. Although his words seemed rather harsh to her. But Delilah simply nodded, taking the stuff from the counter and making her way outside again. She saw the sun was about to set and hoped for another sunny day. Sun made everything seem so bright and shiny.