Delilah: An Under Your Scars Novella

by Ariel N. Anderson

don’t know why I cared so much about those stupid pancakes, but Dad told me he’d get them for me if I counted to one hundred, and I tried so hard to be good and do it.

And if I see a pancake? Well, who knew something so innocent and sweet could be the source of a full-blown panic attack? Grandma was in the kitchen because of me, because Mom promised me pancakes for breakfast. They were all in the kitchen because of me. They’re all dead because of me.

I was left with nothing but a disgraced last name and two gravestones.

And the worst part about that thought is that if heaven exists, I know my father can’t exist there with her, which means that in killing himself after losing her, he probably still ended up having to live an eternity without her.

Be better than me. Do good in this world. Be selfless and passionate and never let go of the way you choose to see the best in everyone.

Tell your mother that I’ll be waiting for her on the other side, yeah? Love, Dad.

He didn’t kill himself because he gave up on me, but because he lost the only thing that was holding him together. His love for me would have never filled that hole in his chest.

I chose pancakes over my family. So in that regard, I deserve his anger. I deserve the guilt. Most importantly, I deserve the loneliness he was so afraid of.

“You loved her first, but I love her now, and it’s the honor of my life to have her by my side.”