Boys of the Dark | ✓ (2015)

6. The Boy with the Highway (to Hell)

A silent boundary sat between their hands as both were careful not to brush fingers with one another.

The exhaustion and cold air put Delilah under what felt like a hazy dream as they walked in the dark. Her numb fingers poked past her sleeves, the chilly wind sending needles to her bare ears.

She itched to stir up a conversation, that way her frozen lips wouldn't have to be so goddamn purple.

Then Ryland lifted his arms to tug the collar of his jacket closer to his chin and Delilah caught a glimpse of something sticking out in his pocket. "What do you got there?"

He quickly put his arm down, hiding the object back in his sleeve. "Nothing."

He stopped walking, and Delilah released her mind from its sleepy state, and let her senses wake up to the scene before her. "This doesn't look like home," she said.

A crooked smile was slapped n Ryland's lips, smearing this amusement across his face that she still didn't understand. "Just listen."

A rush of cars zoomed beneath the bridge and their feet rumbled at the incredible speed. Headlights flashed like shooting stars below them; oddly enough a wish even slipped into Delilah's mind:

She wanted to know: What kind of dark was this?

She expected to come across a graveyard or a special tree but this—this was unexpected.

"It's a highway," she blandly stated.

"Listen," he repeated.

She didn't. She pretended to do so and stole a discreet glance over her shoulder. Ryland had his eyes closed, almost as if he was giving himself to the world.

He's ought to be the dumbest idiot I've ever met.

"I know you're not listening," he said.

Her gaze darted to his eyes. They were still closed. Did she say something aloud?

"If you don't want to listen that's fine..." he began.

"I do so!" she interjected.

"Then do it," he dared.

She was going to wipe that smirk off his face. She'd be the best listener he'd ever seen!

Delilah folded her arms over her chest and shut her eyes and waited.

Waited some more.

And waited a little longer.

"You can't hear it can you?" he spoke.

"The dead people? I hear them all the time."

"You can't hear it."

"Yes I can."

"Your nose is scrunched, I've never seen that many wrinkles on your forehead and your brows are narrowed enough to form caterpillars."

Her eyes flashed open. "I'm sorry that all I hear is fucking air!" Delilah itched to claw that smile off his face.

"If you're not going to try, they don't bother to join me anywhere."

How could a smiling boy say something so cruel? Not in that evil kind of way, but in that sly, 'I-know-more-than-you-loser'.

Delilah bit down on her retorts and turned back to the highway, lips tight and pursed. Dropping her arms to her side, she took a deep breath and exhaled out a big cloud of cold air. She closed her eyes and allowed the world to take her.

There was a nip at her cheek, a slither down her back and a whisper in her ear;

The wind.

The stupid fucking wind. Was this all he wanted her to hear?