Categories > Cartoons > Delilah and Julius > Life's True Stories: And the Answer was Love
Nothing had troubled the concert. This happened sometimes and Delilah had no objections to a restful assignment. Dismay, Ice and Kertsfield would surely concoct something and that wouldn't be that relaxing. On the flight from Rome back home they laughed a lot and made plans for Delilah's birthday the next day. It had been so perfect.
When they reached the Academy at last she was just tired. Jet lags ... how she hated it. Scarlett greeted them and then was off with the rest of the Academy for a night vision training session and told them to sleep. Delilah got inside with the others, hugged Julius goodnight and went to her bedroom. Today she asked herself if she really didn't notice anything. It couldn't be. Julius had never been that good at hiding something. But perhaps he was not at all responsible for what he did? Had she been blind? Shuddering Delilah remembered how she had awoken a few hours later.
The room had been completely dark. Pitch black. Normally she didn't shut her roller blind down ... or was she in her room at all? She couldn't have seen the hand in front of her face - that is had she been able to move it there. Her arms and legs were bound together and judging by her painful back she was tied to a heater. She moaned when she wriggled but it was no use. A pro had made these knots ... someone panted in the room and something gurgled like water in a bottle.
She knew him, even only by his panting. "Julius?" she called tentatively.
No answer, just more panting. The gurgling came nearer, she heard it. Her breathing came more quickly now as fear flooded her. The bottle was opened.
"Ju -", she began but the liquid had hit her in the face. She started spitting... it was disgusting. She didn't know its taste but the smell of it told her: benzine!
"Julius, what are you doing?"
No answer.
*
Even in the broad sunlight sitting safely at her daughter's desk the memory gave her the chills. The cold liquid over all her body. The moment she realized she wasn't wearing anything though she remembered exactly putting on her red pyjama. She had cried - and his panting had been the only answer.
*
She had been hoarse because of screaming so much when she had realised that it was no use. And the first tears came. She couldn't do anything else.
Something flickered. A new noise apart from the gurgling canister (or at least she supposed that the benzine was in one), the panting and her cries and bumping on the floor. Her eyes grew wide when she realized what it was: a lit match.
The first light she saw, that she had longed for so long was what she feared most now. It disappeared however very quickly. But it was long enough for her to see she was in her room, the carpet soaking wet with benzine. A second match was lit. The panting increased when it faded quickly again. The quick breath and the trembling hands she could see had obviously put it out.
A third match. A fourth. When the fifth was lit she could see his face. It was Julius! She had been right ... he was sweaty and looked ... despaired. It was dark again. The sixth match. The air smelled of singed hair. She remembered calling his name but he didn't seem to listen.
She tried to free herself from the heater but the knots were too strong. She had screamed she had pleaded but still the only answer she got were lit matches and some benzine from time to time.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" she screamed. But no reply.
*
Delilah looked through the sun-blind out of the window. It had taken weeks until she didn't smell benzine everywhere she went. And she still didn't like to go fuel. Not because of the price but because of the smell. A cuckoo sang loudly in the morning. A lark.
*
Delilah had given up. The noise would have awoken the whole academy if there had been anyone. How she wished now she had gone to train with the others. But she had been tired and Scarlett had said as well they should get some sleep.
A new sound. Someone was sobbing. The match box fell to the floor. It was obviously empty. Finally a ray of hope. "Julius ...", she started gently. "please, whatever ..."
He came slowly over to her, his feet shuffling on the floor. His hands were groping for her. She felt the erratic hands on her bare skin ... but after all, it was dark and she would nearly have done anything to get rid of the bonds around her arms and legs.
Julius' hands reached her neck. And all of a sudden they tightened. She struggled for air, gasped tried to wriggle away from him. No use.
And then as suddenly as he had started he stopped. "I can't" he stammered, barely audible.
Breathing heavily she asked: "What the hell are you doing? Julius, please, let me -"
He screamed.
*
Mrs. Westmoreland put her hands over her ears and hummed a little. This was the sound that haunted her dreams, the sound she couldn't explain to nobody. No one would ever understand.
When they reached the Academy at last she was just tired. Jet lags ... how she hated it. Scarlett greeted them and then was off with the rest of the Academy for a night vision training session and told them to sleep. Delilah got inside with the others, hugged Julius goodnight and went to her bedroom. Today she asked herself if she really didn't notice anything. It couldn't be. Julius had never been that good at hiding something. But perhaps he was not at all responsible for what he did? Had she been blind? Shuddering Delilah remembered how she had awoken a few hours later.
The room had been completely dark. Pitch black. Normally she didn't shut her roller blind down ... or was she in her room at all? She couldn't have seen the hand in front of her face - that is had she been able to move it there. Her arms and legs were bound together and judging by her painful back she was tied to a heater. She moaned when she wriggled but it was no use. A pro had made these knots ... someone panted in the room and something gurgled like water in a bottle.
She knew him, even only by his panting. "Julius?" she called tentatively.
No answer, just more panting. The gurgling came nearer, she heard it. Her breathing came more quickly now as fear flooded her. The bottle was opened.
"Ju -", she began but the liquid had hit her in the face. She started spitting... it was disgusting. She didn't know its taste but the smell of it told her: benzine!
"Julius, what are you doing?"
No answer.
*
Even in the broad sunlight sitting safely at her daughter's desk the memory gave her the chills. The cold liquid over all her body. The moment she realized she wasn't wearing anything though she remembered exactly putting on her red pyjama. She had cried - and his panting had been the only answer.
*
She had been hoarse because of screaming so much when she had realised that it was no use. And the first tears came. She couldn't do anything else.
Something flickered. A new noise apart from the gurgling canister (or at least she supposed that the benzine was in one), the panting and her cries and bumping on the floor. Her eyes grew wide when she realized what it was: a lit match.
The first light she saw, that she had longed for so long was what she feared most now. It disappeared however very quickly. But it was long enough for her to see she was in her room, the carpet soaking wet with benzine. A second match was lit. The panting increased when it faded quickly again. The quick breath and the trembling hands she could see had obviously put it out.
A third match. A fourth. When the fifth was lit she could see his face. It was Julius! She had been right ... he was sweaty and looked ... despaired. It was dark again. The sixth match. The air smelled of singed hair. She remembered calling his name but he didn't seem to listen.
She tried to free herself from the heater but the knots were too strong. She had screamed she had pleaded but still the only answer she got were lit matches and some benzine from time to time.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" she screamed. But no reply.
*
Delilah looked through the sun-blind out of the window. It had taken weeks until she didn't smell benzine everywhere she went. And she still didn't like to go fuel. Not because of the price but because of the smell. A cuckoo sang loudly in the morning. A lark.
*
Delilah had given up. The noise would have awoken the whole academy if there had been anyone. How she wished now she had gone to train with the others. But she had been tired and Scarlett had said as well they should get some sleep.
A new sound. Someone was sobbing. The match box fell to the floor. It was obviously empty. Finally a ray of hope. "Julius ...", she started gently. "please, whatever ..."
He came slowly over to her, his feet shuffling on the floor. His hands were groping for her. She felt the erratic hands on her bare skin ... but after all, it was dark and she would nearly have done anything to get rid of the bonds around her arms and legs.
Julius' hands reached her neck. And all of a sudden they tightened. She struggled for air, gasped tried to wriggle away from him. No use.
And then as suddenly as he had started he stopped. "I can't" he stammered, barely audible.
Breathing heavily she asked: "What the hell are you doing? Julius, please, let me -"
He screamed.
*
Mrs. Westmoreland put her hands over her ears and hummed a little. This was the sound that haunted her dreams, the sound she couldn't explain to nobody. No one would ever understand.
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