Chapter Nine
Delilah
“You okay, honey?”
“Hmm?”
I blink and look up from the garden behind our house to see my father standing there looking at me with concern.
“Oh, uh, yep.”
But no, I’m not. Yesterday, I fell into Hell and damnation. Yesterday, I gave in to lust, and the temptations of the flesh, and I let that man—that devil—put his hands on me.
Allover me.
On the one hand, I haven’t stopped buzzing since. I’ve felt more alive in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last eighteen years. I feel… a power, I guess. But while my heart wants to tell me that it’s a good feeling, my soul knows otherwise. I know that “good” feeling in my heart is Satan himself smirking and chortling for tricking me into eternal hellfire.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Papa.”
And now I’m lying to my father. How far I’ve fallen with just one slip. But then, it isn’t just one slip. It’s an entire slippery, sliding, sinful slope.
“You sure?” my father frowns. “You’ve been poking at the dirt around that tomato plant for the last ten minutes.” He smiles. “What’s eatin’ you, Delilah?”
I shrug, and he chuckles.
“C’mon, honey, talk to me. Whatever it is—”
“Have you ever thought one thing about someone, and then found out they’re not what you thought, and been a little disappointed? But then, also you don’t altogether dislike what it is they are, it’s just confusing because it’s not what you thought?”
Papa blinks in surprise.
“Never mind,” I mumble. “Sorry, don’t mind—”
“I haven’t,” he says slowly. “But your mama has.”
I frown. “What?”
“Thought someone was something else, found out they were different, but stuck around to figure that person out.”
I blink in surprise. “Really? Who?”
He grins. “You’re lookin’ at him.”
My brows lift in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that before your mother, I was…” he frowns. “Well, I was another man. And God bless that woman for sticking around long enough to decide she could look past my own troubles and see the man I was capable of being.”
I smile curiously. “Papa, what are you talking about.”
He sighs and looks away as he scratches his chin. “Aww heck, you’re old enough. I know I’ve mentioned that before your mama, I was lost, but you don’t know the half of it.” He starts to unbutton his shirt, and I frown curiously as he pulls it open to flash the tattoo ink of the cross over his heart.
“I’m, talking about this.”
I smile. “Papa, I’ve seen your tattoo plenty of times.”
He frowns. “Look closer.”
I wrinkle my brow and walk over to him, peering at his cross. “Papa, what am I—” And then, I see it. My jaw drops, and I’m not quite sure how I never noticed it before, but now that I’m scrutinizing closer, it’s hard to miss. There, under the cross adorned with thorns, is something else.