Categories > Cartoons > Delilah and Julius > Surreal
Chapter Seven - Formication
Life at the Academy was becoming stressful, and for more people than just Delilah. Julius had refused to let her out of his sight since the "incident" in London. Al and Scarlett were bombarded with the constant confessions of her partner, who was extremely worried about her. Ursula had walked away with a black eye for laughing at Delilah's bunny slippers.
Everyone seemed to be testy these past few days. And the tension was wreaking havoc on two men in particular: normally cool, laid-back Julius, and slick Roger. For Roger, it was the separation from his number one customer that was killing him. Sure, he had other kids in the Academy hooked, but they were just dopey preteens. Scared, holding-back little brats. Delilah, on the other hand, had been through something. She at least had a reason to use. The others were just doing it for "fun". In the immortal words of Mimi Marquez, "Now and then I like to feel good."
Roger was still able to get his stuff to Delilah. In the halls, they would pass. Of course, she was now always with Julius, which made it more difficult. They would always high-five as they passed. Roger, slipping some sort of illegal substance into her hand, would smile and mutter "Hey," to her. Delilah, passing him some money, would nod and "Hey," back. Julius' mouth would twitch in an annoyed grimace, but he would keep walking.
Unaware.
Anyone would think that Delilah would feel the tiniest sense of guilt for deceiving her partner. Just a little twinge in her heart, telling her that it was wrong. Sure, she did feel guilty, but the pull was too strong. She had discovered too late that you never could reach that initial high again, but you were more than capable to go beyond the low. Still, she kept chasing the high, hoping that maybe, just maybe, some drug out there would work. Even if for only a second, it would be worth it.
When Roger supplied the drugs, he also supplied information. The street names, the technical names. What streets in the cities were good for what. Which drug did what. All the "essentials". Of course, he left out certain things ... things that naïve people, such as Delilah, didn't think about.
Didn't think to question about.
Overdose.
Of course she'd heard the word before. Her photographic memory could tell her the definition in an instant: to dose too heavily; "The rock star overdosed and was found dead in his hotel room."
The spy overdosed and was found dead in her bedroom, Delilah thought. No! No, don't be an idiot. Roger would never ... I'm not stupid enough to take enough ... Julius wouldn't - She cringed as she thought what she always did when she was faced with a problem. Of course she would always think that Julius would never let her hurt herself. But he doesn't know this time, Devonshire. He can't help you if he doesn't know.
Thinking these thoughts, Delilah pulled the covers over her head and attempted to get some sleep ...
... Until the horrible crawling sensation took over her ...
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Julius was lying on his bed, watching the television set up in the desk in front of him. Well, staring at it, anyway. To him, the show was just a blur of colours and sounds. He didn't have a clue what was on.
Thoughts from his last mission occupied his mind. Why had Delilah gone and tried to jump over that insane gap? She didn't seem suicidal, thank God. In fact, she seemed almost completely normal ... like jumping over a twenty-foot hole was normal.
He had talked to Al and Scarlett again. They were completely at a loss to explain her behaviour. Scarlett suggested maybe it was just stress, or the Sun had been in her eyes. Nothing could justify why she had tried to jump. Deep down, Julius wanted to say that the problem had something to do with Roger ... but he was now entirely convinced he was just jealous. Every time Roger and Delilah saw each other in the hall, they'd touch, say hi. When it was him and Delilah, he was lucky if he got a nod, let alone a smile. Roger was a nice kid, but Julius wouldn't let him have a chance.
Suddenly, Julius could swear he heard screaming. Probably the TV, he thought. Crud, that's annoying! He frowned and flicked off the screen. But the wailing continued.
"What the hell?" He sat up, realizing the yelling was not coming from the television. In fact, it sounded like it was coming from down the hall.
"Am I the only one who can hear this?" Julius muttered. He glanced at the clock, and realized every normal person would be sound asleep by now. He groaned. "Fine, I guess I'll go check out the mysterious screaming."
Rubbing his eyes, he hopped up from his bed and jogged over to the door. Only when he was halfway down the hall did he realize who's yelling it was: Delilah's.
"Oh, shit!"
He began running full tilt down the hallway, heart thumping. Why was she up this late? Why was she screaming?
Reaching her door, he flung it open and rushed inside. The sight that met him was ... a bit strange. Delilah was standing in the middle of her room, only in her pyjamas, squealing and brushing off her shoulders, arms, back and legs. Only one problem: there wasn't anything on her.
"De, what's the problem?" Julius asked, confused.
She screamed again. "Get them off! They're all over me! BUGS!"
Now he was really confused. There were definitely no bugs on her. So why was she freaking out?
"Delilah, there aren't any bugs on you!" he shouted, walking over to her.
She yelped again, and brushed harder. "What's the matter with you? Can't you see them? They're everywhere! All over me! Cockroaches! Fuck, get them /off/!"
Julius was completely at a loss what to do. How could he explain to her that she didn't have any cockroaches on her? Damn it, what is wrong with her? he asked himself. Walking over to her, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in close. Holding her against his chest, he whispered soothing words in her ear.
"Hush, De, it's okay. C'mon, there are no bugs on you. Just calm down, kay? Take some deep breaths and relax. Forget about the cockroaches."
As he was calming her down, a thought popped up in the back of his mind. Years ago, a biker had been found in Halifax, with seventeen stab wounds on him. He was dead, of course. At first, the police had suspected foul play, but on closer examination, they concluded the injuries were self-inflicted. He had stabbed himself seventeen times. Why? Because he had overdosed on cocaine, and he was hallucinating. He was under the impression dozens of cockroaches were crawling under his skin, and the only way to get rid of them was to stab. Stab, stab, stab. How could you do that? Stab yourself seventeen times, to get nonexistent bugs under your skin? There were even cases where people picked their skin right to the bone.
And it hit him right then.
Delilah was using coke.
She had overdosed.
She had almost killed herself.
=================================================================
Dictionary.com definition of /Formication/: hallucinated sensation that insects or snakes are crawling over the skin; a common side-effect of extensive use of amphetamines
Life at the Academy was becoming stressful, and for more people than just Delilah. Julius had refused to let her out of his sight since the "incident" in London. Al and Scarlett were bombarded with the constant confessions of her partner, who was extremely worried about her. Ursula had walked away with a black eye for laughing at Delilah's bunny slippers.
Everyone seemed to be testy these past few days. And the tension was wreaking havoc on two men in particular: normally cool, laid-back Julius, and slick Roger. For Roger, it was the separation from his number one customer that was killing him. Sure, he had other kids in the Academy hooked, but they were just dopey preteens. Scared, holding-back little brats. Delilah, on the other hand, had been through something. She at least had a reason to use. The others were just doing it for "fun". In the immortal words of Mimi Marquez, "Now and then I like to feel good."
Roger was still able to get his stuff to Delilah. In the halls, they would pass. Of course, she was now always with Julius, which made it more difficult. They would always high-five as they passed. Roger, slipping some sort of illegal substance into her hand, would smile and mutter "Hey," to her. Delilah, passing him some money, would nod and "Hey," back. Julius' mouth would twitch in an annoyed grimace, but he would keep walking.
Unaware.
Anyone would think that Delilah would feel the tiniest sense of guilt for deceiving her partner. Just a little twinge in her heart, telling her that it was wrong. Sure, she did feel guilty, but the pull was too strong. She had discovered too late that you never could reach that initial high again, but you were more than capable to go beyond the low. Still, she kept chasing the high, hoping that maybe, just maybe, some drug out there would work. Even if for only a second, it would be worth it.
When Roger supplied the drugs, he also supplied information. The street names, the technical names. What streets in the cities were good for what. Which drug did what. All the "essentials". Of course, he left out certain things ... things that naïve people, such as Delilah, didn't think about.
Didn't think to question about.
Overdose.
Of course she'd heard the word before. Her photographic memory could tell her the definition in an instant: to dose too heavily; "The rock star overdosed and was found dead in his hotel room."
The spy overdosed and was found dead in her bedroom, Delilah thought. No! No, don't be an idiot. Roger would never ... I'm not stupid enough to take enough ... Julius wouldn't - She cringed as she thought what she always did when she was faced with a problem. Of course she would always think that Julius would never let her hurt herself. But he doesn't know this time, Devonshire. He can't help you if he doesn't know.
Thinking these thoughts, Delilah pulled the covers over her head and attempted to get some sleep ...
... Until the horrible crawling sensation took over her ...
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Julius was lying on his bed, watching the television set up in the desk in front of him. Well, staring at it, anyway. To him, the show was just a blur of colours and sounds. He didn't have a clue what was on.
Thoughts from his last mission occupied his mind. Why had Delilah gone and tried to jump over that insane gap? She didn't seem suicidal, thank God. In fact, she seemed almost completely normal ... like jumping over a twenty-foot hole was normal.
He had talked to Al and Scarlett again. They were completely at a loss to explain her behaviour. Scarlett suggested maybe it was just stress, or the Sun had been in her eyes. Nothing could justify why she had tried to jump. Deep down, Julius wanted to say that the problem had something to do with Roger ... but he was now entirely convinced he was just jealous. Every time Roger and Delilah saw each other in the hall, they'd touch, say hi. When it was him and Delilah, he was lucky if he got a nod, let alone a smile. Roger was a nice kid, but Julius wouldn't let him have a chance.
Suddenly, Julius could swear he heard screaming. Probably the TV, he thought. Crud, that's annoying! He frowned and flicked off the screen. But the wailing continued.
"What the hell?" He sat up, realizing the yelling was not coming from the television. In fact, it sounded like it was coming from down the hall.
"Am I the only one who can hear this?" Julius muttered. He glanced at the clock, and realized every normal person would be sound asleep by now. He groaned. "Fine, I guess I'll go check out the mysterious screaming."
Rubbing his eyes, he hopped up from his bed and jogged over to the door. Only when he was halfway down the hall did he realize who's yelling it was: Delilah's.
"Oh, shit!"
He began running full tilt down the hallway, heart thumping. Why was she up this late? Why was she screaming?
Reaching her door, he flung it open and rushed inside. The sight that met him was ... a bit strange. Delilah was standing in the middle of her room, only in her pyjamas, squealing and brushing off her shoulders, arms, back and legs. Only one problem: there wasn't anything on her.
"De, what's the problem?" Julius asked, confused.
She screamed again. "Get them off! They're all over me! BUGS!"
Now he was really confused. There were definitely no bugs on her. So why was she freaking out?
"Delilah, there aren't any bugs on you!" he shouted, walking over to her.
She yelped again, and brushed harder. "What's the matter with you? Can't you see them? They're everywhere! All over me! Cockroaches! Fuck, get them /off/!"
Julius was completely at a loss what to do. How could he explain to her that she didn't have any cockroaches on her? Damn it, what is wrong with her? he asked himself. Walking over to her, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in close. Holding her against his chest, he whispered soothing words in her ear.
"Hush, De, it's okay. C'mon, there are no bugs on you. Just calm down, kay? Take some deep breaths and relax. Forget about the cockroaches."
As he was calming her down, a thought popped up in the back of his mind. Years ago, a biker had been found in Halifax, with seventeen stab wounds on him. He was dead, of course. At first, the police had suspected foul play, but on closer examination, they concluded the injuries were self-inflicted. He had stabbed himself seventeen times. Why? Because he had overdosed on cocaine, and he was hallucinating. He was under the impression dozens of cockroaches were crawling under his skin, and the only way to get rid of them was to stab. Stab, stab, stab. How could you do that? Stab yourself seventeen times, to get nonexistent bugs under your skin? There were even cases where people picked their skin right to the bone.
And it hit him right then.
Delilah was using coke.
She had overdosed.
She had almost killed herself.
=================================================================
Dictionary.com definition of /Formication/: hallucinated sensation that insects or snakes are crawling over the skin; a common side-effect of extensive use of amphetamines
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