losing faith ,

[Deleted]

Delilah sat with her back firmly against the wall of her spare room with only a bottle of vodka for company. She had lost all lustre for life itself at that moment, she felt all she was able to do was lye there and take the berating. What else was there to do? She saw no purpose only a bleak future for herself and her too large house. A pity party was not something she often through herself or at all but she was so far down in the rut that the only company that could suffice were her bitter thoughts and the bottle of Smirnoff.

Was this really what became of her? What happened to the independent and daring Delilah Gardner. Who was famous for doing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She was a shell of her former self as she sat there, drinking away her sorrows like a worn-out has been. There was only so much her fragile mind could take, the façade was all too perfect but her thoughts were like poison. Leaking into every crevice, leaving no stone unturned. She had to bide her time but she feared the more she waited, the more things would progress and she would simply be left in the dust. A thought that had her clawing at her skin, as if it were too tight for her body, as if she were suffocating underneath it all. – She let the tears run freely now, not bothering to wipe away the evidence of her misery. No-one was there to watch or pity, she was free to be as weak and diminished as she pleased.

She heaved a heavy sigh as she ran her hand against the bare walls. A painful memory, a distant thought of what could have been. The wounds were as fresh as if they had been inflicted the night before.

The nights were the hardest. The empty room bore resemblance to a cancer, constantly growing on her mind when the loneliness took over. She was too prideful to chase after men and she was not desperate enough to throw herself on any random man. Despite her desperation for a child she had dignity and that dignity kept her from breaking down all those times she had wanted to. It took all her strength on those days; she would busy herself with other tasks or help out at the children’s home but even going there became too much at times. Looking at those children who had been deserted by parents stroked unfathomable rage within her. People who were capable of doing such a thing made her question humanity, did they care not that many people out there were unable to have their own children yet they deemed it proper to discard one so easily. It made her sick and it made her envious all at once. There was not only humanity to question, but herself it seemed.

Curling into herself nursed the bottle like a new born baby, with its contents nearly empty she had one on reserve, ready to take its place. It was a sad image to see what was once a strong woman crumpled in her own misery. But she laid there and took it, demanding whatever there was out there to do their worst because she couldn’t possibly sink any further than she had in that moment. She had all but given up on the light at the end of the murky tunnel that was her life when she succumbed into a deep sleep still cradling the bottle.