I could instantly name one thing I hate in this world. In probably less than 3 seconds flat, and that's half assed apologies.

Much like the one leaving Zak's mouth as he says sorry but doesn't really mean it. Even as he asks me to explain it to him again, I know he doesn't really give a shit and find myself ignoring him because;

1- I'm childish.
2- His apology is pathetic
3- He doesn't mean it.
4- What is the point?

Number four was a little more complex than what's the point, as if it's a lazy approach. No. It's more of the fact that he didn't care enough to listen to me the first time, why would he when I repeated it again? If anything he had just shown me the same support I received from the police all those years ago. - Next to none.

"Delilah, come on." He urged as I laid on the bed, my hand protectively over the wound in my stomach as I tried to sleep.

Sleep seemed to work for everything. lie. It was simply an excuse for him to stop with the grovelling.

"Babe, I'm sorry—"

"Shove your apology. You don't mean it. So why say it?" I ask as silence fills the room. "Exactly."

I turn my back to him and hear his heavy sigh "You know what, I'm going to the museum. You have this pity party sulk."

His words make me grit my teeth. Playing the victim and having a pity party. He just doesn't know when to stop. Does he?

The fake sleep manages to pull me into a nap and I wake up two hours later to an empty house. He even took Gracie...

Shaking my head, I walked around the lounge for a few minutes, working out what I could do when it dawned on me.

Heading up into the office, I plunked myself down in the chair and began writing. My hand ached as I gripped the pen tightly as I wrote out my letter before finally finishing it off and slamming the pen down.

Taking a breath, I felt a slight ease in my body. Signalling that I'm moving in the right direction.

It wasn't an easy decision, but one that was more than likely needed. Okay it was definitely needed.

He didn't understand and that's okay, really it is. Because this, none of this is his problem, it's mine. I have to deal with it and it is my choice if I pursue with charges against Randy. But my evidence is almost nonexistent, I couldn't prove he had done it with his belt, he more than likely had a new belt by now, so all evidence of traces of blood and there would be blood , would be gone. My word against his.

So as I packed my bag of little stuff I had, I cast my eyes over the bedroom, remembering all those little moments we had in here, those lip biting, toe curling hours spent beneath the sheets..

I had come to love him, with every morsel in my body, but he thinks I'm playing this all for sympathy, for pity.. How can I be with anyone who thinks that of me?

It's simple. I can't.

+++

Eating humble pie was never a favourite thing of mine. In fact, I hated to do it...

Standing on Poppy's doorstep, I knocked and waited. Trying to work a sense of apology in my mind because the last time I seen her, I was short, curt and sometimes just plan rude.

So you can imagine my surprise when she pulled back the door and grinned "Delilah! How are you?"

"G-good. You?"

"I'm great! Come in, you should have walked in, silly. You have a key." She laughed as I followed her through her home.

"I know, but what if you and Trent were up to some afternoon nookie on the couch."

She giggled "Nope, its strictly bedroom. Because I'm exhausted after."

I smiled. Some things never change,
Poppy and her overshares. "So what's up?" She asks putting on the kettle instantly.

Sighing, I pull out a chair to the table and notice her eyes lingering on it.

"Oh Poppy! You said strictly the bedroom!" I complain making her laugh wickedly.

"Well it kind of started on the table. Let's go into the lounge."

I nod in agreement.

Settling onto the chair opposite the couch, I give her a gentle smile.

"What's wrong?" She asks in a more serious tone and I find myself looking out into the garden than at her. Watching a dragonfly zip through the air..

What was wrong? It's more of what was right and what needed to be done to get things right again...

"I'm leaving."

+++

She'll cool off. Get a grip of things and we can have that bastard nailed into jail for the rest of his days.

Zak rubbed his temples as he looked at the figures on screen. Along side the first window was a second, which held an email, a complaint from nearby houses or businesses, it didn't say which.

"What can we do?" Zak asks looking over the laptop to his publicist who also took care of the museum whilst he was away.

She pulled an unsure face "We've done so much already, my only suggestion is that it's a vendetta. Whoever is making these complaints are set to see the museum fail."

"They didn't want me building it in the first place." Zak grumbled. "You know some people refused on the vote of this place becoming a museum."

His publicist nodded.

"Hell knows why, I'm doing them a favour." He added.

"I'll give them a ring and find out the purpose of the complaint, we can work on making changes after. Within reason of course."

He nodded.

"The figures on your screen are showing you a tidy profit every day. We can use that to show the council how beneficial it's been having the museum here."

"Okay. Ring them. Find out what someone's complaining about." He ordered and picked up his phone.

Time had flown since being at the museum and he only knew it had been a long time because his stomach ached signalling that he needed food.

"You know what? Leave it until tomorrow." He decided. "The last tour is going around now, they are about 15
minutes through, head off home."

"Are you sure?" She asks making him nod.

Closing the laptop lid, Zak waits until his publicist leaves before using his phone to check the cameras at home. He skipped room from room, unable to find Delilah in any of them. Figuring she was either in a blind spot of in the bathroom, he clicked off it and slid his phone into his pocket.

The ride home felt long. With Gracie in the passenger seat asleep, he sighed and felt guilt weigh in knowing he had only taken Gracie to piss Delilah off. But her lack of communication had him worried.

Pulling into the garage, Gracie peeked up and hopped out his car door before running into the house.

Zak stepped into a dark kitchen, flicking on a light, he made his way through the house turning on the lights until he got to the bedroom, and turned on the lap beside the bed.

Only to find it empty.

Folded onto his bedside table was a letter, knowing Delilah's writing, he took a breath before perching on the edge of the bed to read it...

Zak,
If you haven't guessed by now, then I'm gone. It wasn't an easy decision, nor was it one I wanted to make. But it was one I made...

You deserve so much better than what I can give you at the moment, and I will understand if you are angry at me for leaving but it is something I have to do.

I plan to go to California for a while. Back to place where I feel like me. I have emailed Detective Wicks and explained my plans.

This is not me running. This is me leaving whilst I find myself again, because the last few weeks have been nothing but carnage and I find it setting us against each other. I don't want that. I never want that..

You're an amazing person. But you don't understand some parts of me. The parts, being my past. Parts that I'm not okay with. That girl will always be stronger than me and maybe it's because she has to be strong, for her child. But I don't, I'm not this person who can stand up and tell my story. Because I don't have evidence, I have scars. Scars that could be from anything, the jury could believe his defence team when they accuse them of being fake. I don't want to be torn apart on stand. I don't want this to effect you and the show. Or the museum! Because it will. There's a risk the stabbing might and the last thing I want to see happen is my past fucking up your future..

You don't deserve that. You never deserve that. Please know this is one of the hardest things I've done. Harder than running as a child. Because with you, I feel safe. I feel guarded and loved. And right now I'm in pain. Real pain, but no medication can touch this. I know we have skipped around a certain subject, but I can't go without telling you, that I love you. That I would do anything for you. But staying in a place where you think I'm doing it for the sympathy, isn't one.

This isn't forever, it's just until I can find myself back to being that hard-ass bitch, the one that has been lost under the baggage and depressive bullshit. I don't expect you to wait for me, either. But know, no man will come close to you. I don't want any other man apart from you.

Look after Gracie for me.. I'm sorry to do it this way, but I couldn't stand to see your face when I told you. Because I can't see you hurt.

Your Phoenix, Delilah xx