Delilah knocks on our front door at ten a.m. Though when I open it she doesn't seem too happy to see me. When she enters the house she takes a seat on the couch without saying a word.
My Mom walks in from the hallway, still in her pajamas. She says hi to Delilah and Delilah smiles in response. My mother then looks at me and asks me a question I don't hear. Delilah's eyes widen, her eyes fixed on me. I then realize it must've been a serious question.
"I'm sorry?" I say to my Mom.
"You can still see him, can't you?" My Mom asks.
"See who?"
"Don't play dumb with me. I know my son. Where is he now?"
I look around the room.
"In the kitchen. Watching us," I tell them.
Silence falls between us.
"Does this mean I'm going back to the hospital?" I ask.
Delilah looks at my Mom, waiting for an answer. But before my Mom can give one she says, "Judas is sane, isn't he? He's not a danger to himself or anyone else around him. So I don't think it's a problem, is it?"
My Mom glances at Delilah and smiles.
"I couldn't put Judas through that again," My Mom says, "I don't know what it means for him to be going through what he's going through but maybe it's not a bad thing, you know? God has a funny way of using people."
"Right..." Delilah says.
"Well we better get going," I say, "It's a long drive there and I like to get a head start for parking."
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The Town of Hawkins doesn't have a church so we have to go to the next town over, Willow Creek, to go to church every Sunday. I usually go alone, but today I have Delilah in the passenger seat and my mother in the back. Though, something is off about Delilah. She's been off ever since she got to my house. I want to ask her about it, but I'd rather do it in private.
The roads are practically empty on the drive there. So it's just us, empty winding roads, tall pine trees, and towering rocking walls as we drive. I always enjoy this drive to church. Sometimes I take it just to clear my head.
When we arrive, there are a few other cars that have beaten us. There are people gathered around the front entrance of the church, all smiling and conversing with one another. When we get out of the car, a familiar, red-eyed, red-haired woman approaches us.
"Judy, D. The pleasure is mine," Lucy says, bowing to us. She's dressed in all red, with a red and black checkered skirt and thigh-high red socks.
"Didn't know you went to this church," I say.
She ignores me and notices my mom, "Who's this beautiful heroine?" Lucy asks pushing past me.
I nudge Delilah on the shoulder to get her attention.
"Mind if we talk before the sermon starts?" I ask.
"Sure," she says.
The church is right in the middle of town, so we start to take a walk around the small town of Willow Creek.
"I'm sorry I'm so out of it," she says right out the gate.
"That's what I wanted to talk about. Are you okay?"
"I mean, I guess I should be okay. It's not like anybody here is causing me harm."
"But something about them is bothering you?"
"They're all—so—happy. And I should be happy for them but I'm not. I'm—I guess I'm—jealous? I want their happiness. But I know I'll never have it."
"Why don't you think you'll ever have that?"
She gets quiet after I ask that. She then stops and looks at me with her green ocean eyes. But right as she's about to say something, the church bell rings.
"We should go find a seat," I say.
She agrees, and we make our way back to the church.
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Willow Creek's Church is small and can only hold about two hundred people at a time. We find a seat near the back with Delilah to my right and Lucy and my mother to my left. When it begins, it's not a preacher that comes out on stage. But a woman with a guitar. Delilah perks up immediately. The woman is in her early to mid-twenties and it's just her. Her hair is short like Delilah's but it's naturally brown. You can faintly see brown freckles on her face.
She starts to play some chords, soft and slow. Then they erupt into a cacophony of whimsical progression for about ten seconds before slowing back down. Then she starts to sing:
"My hands are searching for you
My arms are outstretched towards you
I feel you on my fingertips
My tongue dances behind my lips, for you
This fire runs in through my being
Burning, I'm not used to seeing you..."
The song changes into its pre-chorus. Delilah turns to me and mouths Holy Shit!
"I'm alive...
I'm alive..."
I don't think the church is ready when the chorus hits. Because when it does—
"I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing..."
It's exactly how I feel about Delilah. I hope it's how she feels about me too.
"My hands float up above me
And you whisper you love me
And I begin to fade
Into our secret place
The music makes me sway
The angels singing say "We are alone with you"
I am alone and they are too with you..."
Goosebumps again. I then realize that his song can be about someone else I know.
"I'm alive...
I'm alive...
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I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing..."
The song enters a bridge, it's slow and low compared to the rest of the song.
"And so I cry
The light is white
And I see you...
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I'm alive...
I'm alive...
I'm alive...
I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing—"
I'm not expecting the next part, the bridge, to be sung so fast, but it works with the song.
"Take my hand, I give it to you
Now you own me, all I am
You said you would never leave me
I believe you, I believe
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I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healed."
I stand up and clap. Hell, the whole church does. The singer bows and smiles. I look to Delilah, expecting her to do the same, but she's sitting down. I sit back down and the pastor begins to step out onto the stage.
"Give it up again for Celeste will ya?" The pastor says. We all clap again except for me and Delilah. Delilah's not jealous, is she? I wouldn't take her to be that kind of person. But I didn't believe that Celeste was better than Delilah. More experienced sure, but if Delilah kept practicing, by Celeste's age she'd be way better than her.
The preacher begins to talk but I can't take my attention off Delilah. She looks like Spongebob and Patrick when they were put under the drying rack in their first movie. Just being absolutely cooked alive.
I'm about to say something to her when I feel a tap on my left shoulder. It's Lucy.
"Hey, where's Squid?" she asks.
"They didn't want to come," I respond, "Not their thing."
"Oh. Okay. Where's D going?"
I turn back and Delilah is already in the center aisle. Before I can chase after she's gone out the front door. I get up from my seat and follow her into town.
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"D, wait up!" I yell to Delilah's back. She's not slowing down. In fact, I think she's speeding up. I never knew those tiny legs could be so fast.
"Just go back to church with all your friends," she says. We're currently at an incline and we're going uphill. She's almost at the top while I'm only halfway.
"Those aren't my friends. Can we just talk?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll judge me."
"How do you know that?"
"Because when I tell people about this stuff they always judge me."
"Well, I won't."
"That's what they all say until they judge me."
"D, I literally talk to Jesus out loud. I'm a weirdo. There's nothing you can't tell me that I won't judge you for."
She stops and turns around. I'm at the top of the hill and I'm trying to catch my breath.
"I'm a terrible person," she says.
"No, you're not," I almost laugh at how ridiculous it sounds to me.
"No—I don't think you understand. All the things that have happened to me. And the things I've done because of them. I've stepped into levels of depravity where there's no return from. And worse of all. I—"
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'll always look at you the same, D, no matter what."
She gazes into my eyes with those aqua-green irises and tells me her deepest, darkest sin.
"I killed someone," she admits, "I killed my best friend."
She doesn't look at me. She just observes the church as she tells me, "There was once a girl. She was the prettiest, most confident girl of all the other girls in her orphanage. She was adopted by someone who had no intention of being a good parent. So she ran. She lived on the streets until somewhere down the line drugs got involved. But then she meets a boy named Marco. This boy also has a dream of becoming a singer like her. They actually had a lot in common. Pretty quickly, she falls head over heels for Marco.
Then life catches up to the both of them. The only way the girl knew how to help was with drugs. He excepted—and ended up overdosing."
She turns around, wiping a tear from her eye.
"This girl then ended up in rehab and got adopted. A few years later she moved and got a job at Chick-fil-A. Where she found a second chance."
After she's done telling me this I look over to Jesus who is standing a few feet away from us.
"I'm two years clean if you're wondering," she says. Jesus nods and I take a step towards Delilah.
"It's not your fault, Delilah," I say.
"Yes it is," she says back. No hesitation.
"I blamed myself for Jenny's death too. But you should know, it's not your fault."
"Who's Jenny?"
"My biological mother. I made a birthday wish for her death the day she died."
"Wow. I didn't think you'd understand, but out of everyone, you're one of the few people who kind of do. It's different. But similar enough."
I take another step toward Delilah. She's looking up at me now and I place my hand on her sternum, covering her golden cross.
"He's in heaven, you know. And he doesn't blame you," I say.
"Judas, I appreciate the thought but—"
"D. Trust me. He is. I know."
She smiles then takes my hand off of her chest and holds it in hers. We begin to walk back to the church.
"For his sake, I hope you're right," she says, "I'm starting to think that believing God hates you is just as bad as it being true."
"What do you mean?"
"Like, what if we self-actualize? Like our perception of our souls reflects and manifests our reality. My subconscious thought I deserved a second chance so I manifested you, Judas."
"And I was deciding to turn a new leaf. Changing things in my life. So I manifested you into my life."
"And then we met Squid."
"And Lucy."
"But we lost people along the way too."
"People that we loved dearly. And it's not like we wanted them to go."
"But maybe they're not gone, you know? They're just..."
"Away?"
"Yeah. Kinda like they're on vacation."
"Kinda like they have the plague. That really is what this all is. Just a plague that spreads and spreads. The plague of death."
Delilah's eyes widen.
"What?" I ask.
"I just got an idea for a new song," she says.
"They just come to you like that?"
"I call them songifinies. They just end up in my head out of nowhere and I gotta sing 'em. When does church end?"
"It should be ending any minute now? Wanna get home quick?"
"Yeah! But I wanna talk to Celeste first."
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Delilah is acting like a thirteen-year-old Justin Bieber fan talking to the Biebs himself with Celeste in the lobby. I'm leaning against the wall, watching from afar. My mom is talking to another group of woman while Lucy is hanging out next to me to my left.
"How goes the marriage?" Lucy asks, "Considering kids?"
"Her babies would be beautiful. How are you, Lucy?"
"Oh, you know. Everything's going as according to plan. Did you know who Daniel Martinez has always had a crush on?"
"Oh boy, here we go."
"Stacy Flannigon. Turns out Daniel is an aspiring comedian."
"Okay... What does that have to do with anything?"
"Hawkin's High used to have a talent show in November. They stopped funding it because no one came. Not enough talent."
"But we have Delilah and Daniel."
"Forget Daniel. This is Delilah's chance. With the help of Stacy Flannigon's money, we can have the right people and the cameras recording Delilah's performance. This is our chance to shoot Delilah into a legacy."
"And possibly show the world that Hawkin's isn't just a small town of weirdos but talented, amazing people. You know, I thought you were plotting something a lot more malicious. And while I don't like the idea of using people, you are hooking up Daniel with someone he actually has feelings for. Which would be a first for him. I should tell Delilah."
I lean off the wall but Lucy puts the front of her hand on my chest to stop me.
"Let her find out on her own," she says, "She's got other things to focus on right now."
I agree. Lucy takes her hand off my chest and I lean back against the wall.
"How are things going with D?" Lucy asks.
"Um."
"Treating her right?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Ha! You're telling me you guys haven't done anything yet?"
"What exactly are we talking about here?"
"Judas, my clueless disciple. You need to grow a pair. And I think you know what I mean."
"I'm—I'm not interested in her in that way."
"C'mon, Judy! Anybody with eyes can tell."
"Or uh, At least she ain't into me like that."
"Aren't you guys dating?"
"Yeah, but all she's done is hold my hand and kiss me on the cheek once."
"I'll never understand Christians and taking it slow."
"No, but that's the thing. This isn't my pace."
"It's hers? Surprising."
"Was she not like that with you?"
"Oh, no. We were at it like bunnies pretty much at hello."
So my theory is correct. Delilah is taking it slow with me. Is that good or should I be worried?
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On the drive back, Delilah is writing in her notebook she always keeps on her. I'm contemplating if she finds me attractive or not. I mean, it's possible to date someone you don't find attractive, right? You can be friends with people you don't find attractive so it's not much of a stretch to be dating someone you find unattractive. Back then, marriages were arranged. You didn't get to really pick your partner based on attraction. It was just given to you and you had to make do with what you had. I was blessed because Delilah looks like she's in her mid-twenties when she's literally a year younger than me. I know she doesn't like being called a goddess, but I completely understand why people call her that. Then there's me. Okay, maybe I'm not the ugliest thing to walk the Earth but I'm no Henry Cavil. I'm a unique-looking ugly person. when it comes to my looks. Not anything crazy but average. Okay, below average. Definitely not able not to handle Delilah. I've never had sex before! I don't wanna ruin her night because of my incompetence. She's an experienced, beautiful woman and I'm a bible-thumping loser who's never even kissed a girl.
My brain thinks along these lines the entire drive home. When we park in my driveway, my Mom gets out of the car quickly due to her having to use the bathroom badly.
"Okay. I'ma go write this song," Delilah says. She opens her door but I remember what Jesus said about speaking up.
"Delilah I—can we talk?" I ask. She closes the door. Her ocean eyes meet mine.
"What's up?" She asks.
"Do—um—Do you—uh—find—me—ugh—do you find me—attractive at all?"
"What?"
"I mean, I know I'm not 'good looking' or 'handsome' or 'hot'." I finger-quote all of those adjectives, "But you know I'm, like, average. Below average. Well, I'm at least ugly enough that I look unique enough to be one in a million—"
Delilah lunges forward, and before I know it her teeth clash with mine. Then I feel her lips. Her soft, elegant lips are on mine and she pulls away.
"I'm sorry," she says with a smile, "But you're wrong. You're not one in a million Judas. You're so much better than that."
Something takes hold of me. I put my hands around her waist and embrace her lips with mine. She grabs the side of my face with one hand and then finds my chest with her other. Our breath becomes heavier as she pushes herself into me. When she pulls away, it's like she's ripping herself off of me.
"I gotta go write that song, Stiffy," she says, punching my shoulder.
She kisses me on the lips for one more solace time and leaves the car. I stay in the car, waiting for Judas Jr. to go down before I go inside.
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Around six in the afternoon, Delilah comes up to my room with her guitar and a strange rectangular box with a speaker and a bunch of buttons on it. She hands me her phone and tells me I'm going to record our first song.
"Our song?"
"You did come up with the name after all," she says in her deep voice. Now that we had our first kiss and it was like that, she could say anything and I would melt like ice cream in a microwave.
"But there is one thing you have to do," she says in a serious tone, "You gotta hit this button with the 'laughing so hard I'm crying' emoji sticker on it when I give the signal."
"Okay. What's the signal?"
"Reverse wink!"
"A what?"
"I sing with my eyes closed about eighty to eighty-five percent of the time. So when I open my left eye to look at you, I.E. reverse wink, you press this button."
"You coulda just said when you open your eye."
"That's no fun."
She sits down in my desk chair again and I start getting ready. I get ready to flip the power button on the box and start to record her with her phone.
"Hello, I'm Delilah Lor and this is my song 'Plague'."
Short. Simple. Elegant. She forms a cord with her left and the universe stands still, waiting for the angel to sing her song. I turn the box on.
She starts to play a mellow, eerie, progression of chords while providing a beat with her finger, which has a ring that's tapping on the wood of her guitar while she's also strumming. The strumming itself again sounds like multiple people playing at the same time. And then the angel starts singing:
"A plague, a plague, upon this town
I'd give it all just to burn 'em down
And if you die, you can blame it on me
I've been burning up bodies in my hometown
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I wish I had never been born
Then you wouldn't know me, and you wouldn't care
Poke and prod, they'd just rip me out
It's only paradise as far as I can see..."
She then begins to sing but it sounds like an abandoned wolf howling for its missing pack. Each howl lasts about five seconds, four in total. And at the end of the last howl, she reverse winks at me and I press the laughing emoji button. The box then continues to play what she was just playing as she progresses into a new part of the song.
It's similar to the beginning, but with the beginning in the background and the more amped-up feeling of this part, it sounds incredible.
"There was a time when you would help me see
But instead, you were just trying to kill me
And I can try to go back to my previous lives
Were I didn't have you, where I didn't have time
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I know it's not fair to say this to you
But death is a plague, it just spreads and spreads
If you left now, you would not know
About the lives you are ending..."
She howls and begins to shred on her guitar. She howls four times once more until she returns back to playing the start of her song. She reverse winks and I instinctively shut the box off.
"A plague, a plague, upon this town
I'd give it all just to watch 'em drown
And if they die you can blame it on me
I've been burning up bodies in my hometown
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I wish I had never been born
Then you wouldn't know me, and you wouldn't care
Poke and prod, they'd just rip me out
It's only paradise as far as I can see..."
I end the recording. I set the phone down and I just admire her. She made that in a matter of hours and it showed me so much about her yet it gave me more questions. I want to know Delilah. I want to know why she thinks the way she thinks. I want to know why she's so amazing.
"What're you looking at?" she asks, putting her guitar down in its case.
I then think of something that I can't stop myself from doing.
I pick the phone up. I start tapping the screen.
"Oh no," I say in the best-worried voice I can conjure.
"What?" she says, standing up.
"I don't think I hit record."
Her eyes open so wide I think they're going to pop out of her skull. She storms over to me like a demon out of Hell and snatches the phone out of my hand.
"No, no, no, no," she stammers, "I put so much into that performance—"
With great haste, Delilah turns toward me and envelopes me with her tiny body. I end up falling back onto my bed.
"AHHHH!" I cry out.
"That's not funny!" She says, lightly hitting me with her fists.
"You're right! You're right!" She lifts her head from my chest and blows a bit of her hair away from her eyes so she can see.
"It's hilarious," I say with the straightest of faces.
She then straightens her fingers to make her hand resemble a thin blade that finds its way directly into my left armpit.
This isn't good. I'm extremely ticklish.
"Oh, you're a ticklish one?" Delilah observes.
I now regret ever trifling with the woman I love.
I don't cuss a lot. Only in very serious situations will I ever drop an F-bomb. But There's also an exception to that rule. When a five-foot woman is tickling you and you have no way of stopping her because she's The Flash when it comes to this shit for some God damn reason; The cuss words are flying.
At this point, I can't breathe and I can't move. I'm just laying there while she's mounted on top of me, laughing her ass off.
Then her eyes meet mine and oh God. I may have never been with a woman before but I know what that look means.
She is going to devour me.
"Delilah I—"
Before I know it, her lips are mixing with mine. Her firm body melts into me, pressing against me and it feels like it's meant to be that way.
She starts to kiss my neck. Something in me is stirring. Like a bowl of water, with someone slowly sloshing it around. But as she continues, the stirring begins to increase.
"Delilah there's something—"
She starts going lower. To my chest.
"Delilah I'm—"
She's at my stomach.
"Well um—you see."
Her fingers enter my pants. I sit up and grab her wrists.
"What?" she asks.
"I'm saving myself for marriage."
She looks at me like she's lost.
"But—our kiss. I thought we were on the same page."
"I thought so too. But D—I—I don't need sex from you. That should come later when we get married."
"But it's just sex Judas. It doesn't mean anything."
"That's the thing though, I think it should. I don't think it should just be about pleasure. You barely know me, D."
"I know enough. You're a good guy, Judas. And I want you to feel good. Do you not find me attractive?"
"No, Jesus, D! How could you say that? You're so attractive it's honestly like a stupid romance novel, but that's not the point. You're not just your body. What your flesh provides isn't what makes you valuable. I just think if we wait until we're unified under God, then we can work on it as one together until death. Doesn't that sound amazing?"
"Well, what if I don't want to get married? You know how I feel about God. Why wait? Life is short. I could die tomorrow. Who knows, you could have a brain aneurysm!"
That stings like a hot needle. I know she didn't mean anything by it but wow, that hurt.
She puts her hand over her mouth and her eyes widen.
"I'm so fucking sorry," she says.
"It's okay," I say, in a voice I didn't want to sound that hurt.
She grabs the top of my hand and tears begin to fall from her ocean eyes.
"I just don't want to lose you," she lips, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"I'm so fucking sorry, Judas."
"D, really it's okay. It's kinda my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you with the marriage thing. I don't even know why I believe in that stuff anyway."
"No, Judas, don't say that. You shouldn't have to compromise you're beliefs to make me feel better. Judas—I'd love to marry you—but I don't know how I'm supposed to do with that. We're so young. I barely know you. I don't know if I'm gonna live that long. God also hates me."
"D, D, D, D listen to me, okay?" I grab her hands, "These past couple of weeks have been life-changing. I have met you," she smirks at this, "I learned that humans are humans and all humans are going through human experiences with Squid. And I learned a lot about the Devil with Lucy. You see, I've been thinking. Lucifer was an angel. Born from God, light, grace, hope, etcetera, etcetera. He chose to be evil. Who's to say that a demon created from darkness, despair, and hopelessness, can't choose to be good? Because here's the thing, D. God created love, with the understanding that love can only exist when you have the freedom to choose it. It was Lucifer's choice to rebel. And it's his choice if he wants to come back to God."
"So it's not God's fault necessarily. It's choice?"
"We all have the present moment. The power to do whatever is feasibly possible within our circumstances."
"How do you know? How do you God's not just manipulating us?"
I take a deep breath, "Junior year, I was at a Church Summer Camp Retreat for students like me. I thought it would be a great way to make friends. Long story short—it wasn't—but the trip yielded other benefits. During one of our lessons, they instructed us to have a thirty-minute silent talk with God. Since God can hear your thoughts, you just find a place in private or walk around aimlessly. At this time I hadn't seen Jesus in three weeks. And I was pretty upset. I remember telling the sky with my thoughts, 'If you don't respond God, I'm gonna be forced to take matters into my own hands.' And 'I am my past and my trauma. It haunts me. Without you I am nothing.'
What did God say at that time? Did Jesus appear from behind a tree and tell me everything was going to be fine? Did a big booming voice in the sky say it was pleased while the Holy Spirit descended on my location? Nope. A whole lot of nothing happened. Just silence, sky, birds chirping, pine trees, and mountains surrounding me. And at that moment I felt like a speck of dust. Non-important. Meaningless.
Fast forward later that day I was feeling edgy. Since none of the kids liked me and didn't want me to play kickball with them, I sat in the bleachers listening to some edgy music. I'm talkin' Skillet. Flyleaf. Relient K. Thousand Foot Crutch. And some Switchfoot."
"That's all Christian rock."
"And?"
"That's what you consider edgy?"
We giggle, "Anyway I was listening to my music until I noticed someone taking a seat next to me. When I looked over I was introduced to one of the most captivating women I've ever seen."
"Careful there."
I smile, "She had a brown-haired mullet. A brown cowboy hat that complemented her steel blue eyes. A red and green flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up past the elbows. A cowboy belt with a giant steel belt buckle. Blue Jeans and cowboy boots to finish the outfit."
"Wow."
"Yeah. Then she said, 'Sup.' And I took my earbuds out and shook her hand, 'I'm Lilith,' she said
'Judas' I replied, 'Are you here on vacation?'
'No. I work here. I kinda just jump from state to state. Thought I'd give Colorado a try.'
I told her I thought she was a leader and she said, 'Oh, no! I hate religion.' And we just sorta started talking. About, well, everything. From why she hated religion to why I'm struggling with mine. I told her about how I could see and hear Jesus and she didn't look at me like I was crazy. I told her about my past, and Jenny. She told me about some of her past too. The ugly parts. I won't share out of respect for her. But she was just as broken as I was if not more. When kickball was over, it was time for dinner. All of the students and group leaders were beginning to make their way to the cafeteria but I wanted to stay to talk with Lilith.
She then said something to me that I'll never forget.
'You know you're not your darkness, right?' she said.
'What do you mean?' I asked, stunned.
'I mean all that stuff you went through. All the things those kids call you. All the shit you didn't deserve to have happened to you. That's not who you are. You're an interesting kid, Judas. You don't have to talk about seeing Jesus or your darkness to prove that.'
Then it just sorta clicked for me. I've heard other people say things like that all the time but it always fell on deaf ears. But right then, sitting on those bleachers with this extraordinary woman who hated religion told me the wisdom I needed to break out of my cage. And it wasn't Jesus who told me. It wasn't someone I knew or another Christian. It was a woman, who hated religion, with the name of a demon. An exile just tryna find her way."
Delilah is looking at our hands. I'm sure she has a thousand thoughts running through her head.
"You see, D," I continue, "God doesn't only act in people who believe in him. He acts in sinners. Betrayers. The meek. The starving. The crippled. Probably the Devil too. And, D," I tighten my grip around her hands and bring them up to our eyes, "With the way you sing and what you sing about, I know that's God acting through you too. I'm not sure how it feels, but I know it must feel like you're singing for something greater than yourself."
"It does feel like nothing else. When I'm singing, it's like I'm outside of my body and I can see myself singing. In a way, I'm sorta taking a protective, guardian angel role over myself whenever I sing."
"Keep singing to her, D. Keep singing to her because she needs to hear your voice. Sing to that Delilah and tell her what she needs to hear." I grab her phone off her bed and hold it up, "Trust me, you keep singing like this. God will act through you. And he will show you that he does not hate you. He created you fearfully and wonderfully. That means that every detail of you, Delilah, from your voice to the dimples on your cheeks was meant to be there and is there for a reason. Don't waste that."
She puts her right hand on my cheek.
"You really love him, don't you?" she asks.
"Yes. Because he loved me first."
She kisses me. I'll never get tired of feeling her lips on mine. Every time I feel them, I hope to feel them again.
She pulls away, her ocean eyes sparkling.
"I guess we're a thing now, huh?" She says.
"Do you want us to be a thing?"
She smiles, leaning in and pressing her mouth into mine. This time a bit of her tongue enters my mouth and it surprises me. I almost jolt back from shock. I've never kissed with my tongue until now. She pulls away, pulling a little bit of my lip with hers before snapping it back to my face.
"Does that answer your question?" She asks, her angelic voice ringing in my head.
I laugh, taking her cheek in my palm and returning the kiss she gave me.
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