Blind Love (Sulfur Heights Series) (17 page)

I’ve never really looked at Darcie before
, and when I do now, I notice her skin is covered in scars. There are small little cuts; round, quarter-sized ones and big healed gashes. I wonder what has happened to her. There’s a painful story behind Darcie’s healed wounds and I’m dying to know what it is.

Was
she in a car accident when she was younger? Did she do this to herself?

As s
he takes notice of me staring at her, her face doesn’t break from the TV when she says, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Her question
is filled with sarcasm and her body is straightened defensively. She holds painful memories with the scars that I can see, but is that what I really want her to help me with? She and Presley are close, closer than I like to admit, and I soon realize she can help me. She can help get my friend back.

“Yes, there is
.” Darcie’s eyes meet mine, ready for a verbal catfight, but I refuse to stoop to childish fighting. I have a friend to save and she’s going to help me. “I know you and Presley are close,” I stammer on, finding it hard to release the words. “You know she’s not well, right?”

Darcie
returns her attention to the TV and slouches into the chair, almost defeated. “Yeah, we were close, but lately she’s refused to see me or even speak to me. Reggie told me to stay out of it and let Drake handle it, and I have, but it’s really hard. You know?”

“Yes…
yes, I do know. Something’s wrong with her, more than postpartum depression. It goes deeper than that.” Darcie’s eyes snap to mine in anger. Ready to tear my head off because she knows I have a secret. I break her glare and look down at my hands. “Have you ever made a promise to keep a secret; one that you know that, if you hold it in another second, something awful will happen?”

Darcie moves to the couch, sitting beside me. At first
, I am readying myself for her lashing, but she puts her hand on my back instead, which is completely out of character for her, though it’s comforting. It’s what I need the most now. “Yeah, I do. We all have secrets around here. It’s our way of life.”

“I can’t keep this in
—knowing it could help her—but she’ll never forgive me. I may lose her forever. I’m not sure I can bear that.” The tears fill my eyes and drip down onto my folded hands.

I
glance up at Darcie and her look mirrors mine. She has a secret, too, and for the first time she sees what we have in common. A love of a friend. A friend we need in our lives. A friend who’s as good as dead if we don’t spill our secrets.

Darcie grabs my hands, her eyes
encouraging me to speak and I do. “She’s had problems all her life with happiness. When I met her, Presley was constantly bullied, always picked on by stupid kids in her class. Then we became friends; she seemed to be doing better. A few years went by and I noticed Presley would have unusual cuts on her arms.” Darcie sucks in a breath and squeezes my hands, bracing herself for my sad words.

“I found out she was cutting herself
, and when I asked her why, she only said it makes everything else go away. I didn’t know what she meant. Then her parents found out she had weird injuries on her body and tried to ask her about it. To this day, I don’t know what she said to convince them it wasn’t done on purpose. Then it all stopped. She was happy again, for a little while anyways.

“
Another year went by, then another, and I noticed how skinny she was getting. I was twelve, but I was also a pageant queen in my childhood. I knew what girls, and mothers, did to keep their girls skinny. She was slowly starving herself. When I confronted Presley about it, she got very angry and told me to mind my own business. I told her mom and dad, though. They had her admitted in the hospital for depression and anorexia. She stayed there a while, and when she was released, she was a new Presley. She was happy and full of life. I thought nothing could knock her down until her parents died and she moved here.

“
She’s been slipping slowly back into that depression, but when she had Mia, I noticed in the month I’ve been here, she’s spiraled down, fast.” I take another breath and look Darcie in the eyes. I’ve never been so serious in my life and Darcie can see that. She can feel it radiating off me.

“If we don’t help her, and I mean
, now. She
will
die. I saw her today and she’s nothing but skin. This is what she does when she can’t handle change
—
she starves herself to take away whatever pain she’s battling.”

Darcie looks down at our joined hands and sheds a few tears of her own. We’ve dropped all childish acts with each other and
have come together as a force to be reckoned with. With this nonverbal gesture
—
our hands holding onto the love we have for a friend
—
Darcie and I fuse together. We are uniting our love for Presley to save our best friend.

“We have to save her
,” Darcie whispers. “I can’t lose her. You have no idea how much I need her in my life. She’s like a sister to me. We went through some heavy shit when she moved here.”

“
Your secret,” I say out loud, knowing full well there is something she’s hiding. “Darcie, you have to tell me. Please, trust me. I won’t say anything. All I want to do is help my best friend. I’ve seen what depression can do to her, and right now, it’s beyond anything I’ve seen in the past.” I’m begging with every ounce of my will; Darcie needs to speak to me. We need to save Presley.

Darcie gets up from the couch and begins to pace. She’s stalking the length of the living room, wearing the carpet with each pace. “You don’t understand. This is way beyond what you told me. It doesn’t just affect Presley, it
affects all of us; and if I tell you, it will affect you, too.” She stops in the room, digging her thumb into her left wrist, making the skin red and angry.

I stand
and grab her hand, stopping the wearing on her scar, and plead, “Please, we are all she’s got. She needs help.” I look down at her deep red scar. “Does this have to do with your scars?” I boldly ask, not knowing how she will react.

“It’s part of it.” Darcie looks to the kitchen and we hear Drake filling his glass of water. “You have to tell him. I’ve never seen him so lost
. He loves her so much. Drake needs to know.”

I nod to Darcie as she screams
his name, asking him to join us. My heart is racing and I’m petrified to tell him.

“
What’s up?,” Drake says while looking around the room. “Where’s Mia?”

“She’s napping in my room,” I tell him.

“Just tell him. He deserves to know,” Darcie says gently. When I don’t say anything, she huffs out, “Delilah thinks she may know what’s going on with Presley. Apparently, she’s had problems with it in the past,” Darcie informs quietly. “Go on. Tell him.” Her eyes meet mine and they instantly gloss over.

I am so scared right now. I know Drake is going to flip his lid and Jake’s not here to protect me. He left shortly after I yelled at him and hasn’t returned.

Here goes nothing.

“Before Presley moved here, she was institutionalized. Her parents recognized she had a major problem and immediately took action to get her help.” I ruin my shirt as I tug and pull it, making a knot. I can’t look at him. I can’t bear to see the anger in his eyes again. “She’s struggled with depression for a long time, and right before her parents died, she was doing so well, but then she moved here, and I can tell she is rapidly slipping back into her old ways. We have to get her help before she dies.”

“Institutionalized?”
Shocked and confused, Drake whispers back to me. “For what?”

“Depression and anorexia. She has always been a sad person, which led to Presley getting teased constantly when she was younger, which only advanced her deep depression and led her to starve herself. I think she stopped eating because she was trying to give up on herself, but we wouldn’t let her give up. Her parents put her in a rehab facility where she learned how to cope with her depression. God, she was just so sad and skinny
, but over the few months of therapy while she was there, Presley started to pull herself back up.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
As predicted, Drake’s voice booms through the living room, causing me to jump from fear. “Do you realize all of this shit could have been avoided if you would’ve enlightened me, Delilah?”

“I’m sorry, Drake. Presley made me promise never to tell anyone. She was so embarrassed and didn’t want to be judged by her past. It just wasn’t my secret to share
, and I really wasn’t sure she was doing this until I saw her this morning.”

“Just like it wasn’t your secret to share when Presley went to the abortion clinic!”

His jab hurts. I will never forgive myself for not saying anything, and I only wish Drake could realize how secrets are kept in my family. I’ve been trained from a young age that, if you give someone your word, you stick to it. My father has always been this way and will never change. Secrets are impossible for me to share because I feel like I’m breaking a code. I will get sent to the firing squad if I utter a single word.

Drake begins to angrily pace the room while
I shake in fear. He’s walking back and forth, mulling something over in his head while Darcie and I stand by and watch him, wondering what he will do next. Then she speaks up.

“Drake, I think it’s only fair we tell Delilah what happened to Presley while she’s been here
.”

Defeated
, Drake caves and my life is forever changed the minute Darcie begins speaking.

Chapter 11

Delilah

Our plan is simple. We are going to approach her intervention style.
We will give her no other choice and the three of us are doing it together. Drake has tried to take care of this himself, but with Darcie and me now a united front, he soon realizes it isn’t going to happen. Before we leave the Evans’ house, I call my dad briefly, explaining what is going on. He’s known what happened to the younger Presley, and helped her parents find a good rehab place for her. Now, I am depending on my dad to help us again.

He
is worried, tells me he loves me, and then gives me the name of a highly recommended place all the rich folks use. The cost is enormous, but Drake doesn’t care. He says he has the money in savings and would spend three times as much if it means getting Presley well.

He’s such a good man. Presley is
so lucky to have someone like him. He’s fighting so hard to keep her alive. Do I have that with Emerson? Do I have that kind of relationship with Jake? I’m appalled at the thoughts and the answers to those questions all at the same time.

On the car ride to their apartment
, I attempt to process Darcie’s story. How awful for her to be tortured her entire childhood, held captive and abused by the man who has been supposed to care for her. Then, to have your own mother allow it to happen; it disgusts me and pains me jointly.

I i
mmediately think of what Maggie has told me at the youth shelter and think of Darcie. All she has ever wanted is to be loved
—
her mother’s love
—
but instead she got handed over to a monster. A monster who happened to be Presley’s uncle and responsible for her current state of self-loathing.

Then, there is Reggie.
Here’s a man who would do anything for his family and for the love of his life. He did all of it, knowing the risks to his freedom. His heroism is awe inspiring, tragic and beautiful. Who are these Evans men? I thought I knew them, but after seeing so much self-sacrifice, I suddenly learn I really don’t know them at all.

Does Jake posses
s these qualities? I’ve seen him protect me from dangerous situations, but I can’t say he would move Heaven and earth just to keep me from being in pain. He’s too self-absorbed to sacrifice himself for someone he truly loves. That’s what my head keeps telling me anyway.

The car slams to a halt when we pull up to the apartment
, and then we begin to make our way inside. Darcie and I sit on the couch, hashing out our plan and what we will say to her. I warn Darcie that, if she gets too aggressive, it will push Presley away and that’s the worst thing we can do. I glance down the hall and watch Drake, who has just left Mia’s room, standing just outside his bedroom door. He’s taking deep breaths. Nerves, I’m sure, are getting shredded as he realizes this is going to be a fight.

Drake returns from the back bedroom, completely bewildered. “She’s not here.”

“Well, where the hell is she? Could she be next door?” Darcie asks. She begins her own search of the apartment.

“No. Mrs. Fields is out of town visiting family,”
Drake answers, confused.

This is the
twenty-first century people, and she does have a cell phone. She doesn’t go anywhere without her phone, however the obvious seems to be slipping away from Drake and Darcie. “Well, let’s simply call her cell phone and see where she’s at.” I reach into the pocket of my shorts and grab my phone.

“You can’t,” Darcie
shouts from the back. She moves up the hall, waving Presley’s cell phone in her hand.