discovery (noun); the act or instance of something being discovered.

It had been strange that morning, waking up to see Max not there in her bed. Blue eyes blinked in confusion as she sat up in her bed, looking around. A frown settled onto Delilah’s lips—her roommate had always been… restless. She was brave and didn’t really seem to care about things; and sometimes—most of the time—that included herself. At the top of the list, more than likely. And Delilah… Delilah had never pushed it. She had been terrified to. Max cared about Delilah so fiercely that it was one of the rare things that the brunette never doubted and the last thing Delilah wanted to do was cause some sort of fight. So she never asked, never pushed it… she sort of just went along for the ride. But after the previous night’s activities, Delilah was beginning to think that was maybe a grave mistake.

Though the dark-haired girl was nowhere in sight, Delilah still found herself pathetically calling out, “Max?”

Of course, no answer returned her call. She slowly pressed a hand to rub at her eyes as she sat up. Frowning, she realized that the dorm looked something similar to a war-zone. Anxiety ebbed at Delilah’s every limb. What was going on? Carefully, she got up out of the bed and winced when she almost immediately made contact with some sort of glass. A hiss slithered through Delilah’s clenched teeth and she carefully grabbed her foot, digging the tiny piece of glass out. Nearly hopping all the way, she flung the door open to the shared bathroom and hastily grabbed some toilet paper and a band-aid before making her way back to the dorm. She perched on the end of her bed, applying pressure on the wound for several long moments before deeming it okay enough to place a band-aid over it.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped down to the ground again on the tips of her toes. Taking a careful look around, it didn’t take long for Delilah to figure out that the pieces belonged to Max’s cell phone, and that it had presumably been thrown by Max herself. Delilah flinched against the memory of a phone flying out of Holly’s hand, a memory that Delilah had had more than one nightmare about. There was no note to be found, Delilah finally deduced. Nothing to tell her where in the world her roommate had gone off to and, furthermore, no way for Delilah to check in on the girl and see if she was okay. Or… okay enough. Delilah’s stomach twisted. Already, the day ahead looked terrible at best.

Delilah’s hands started to tremble and she immediately assumed the worst. How could she not? Terrible things happened to the girls at Westbridge all the time. Delilah’s breath fell in pants and guilt clawed at her. Why hadn’t Delilah just stayed awake? Why wasn’t Delilah better? Where in the world was Max? Was she okay? What more could Delilah have done?

Delilah shut her eyes, attempting to gather her thoughts and breath. She saw Max’s face flash before her eyes, could almost hear her calming tones assuring Delilah that things would be okay. For a moment, Delilah almost forgot Max wasn’t there.

Almost.

When she had herself mostly under control again, Delilah had seemed to already sink into a downfall of emotions. She felt numb, disconnected from her body. And all she could do was an all too familiar scene: pick up broken pieces of a cell phone.

She breathed in deeply, trying to not think too much. It felt like she was holding pieces of Max inside of her hand. It felt all too personal to just throw the pieces away. How could she throw something of Max away? Delilah would never toss Max out. Ever.

You’re being stupid, Lilah, she thought. It’s just a phone. Not even a phone anymore.

She nodded to herself, taking a deep breath and collecting everything. When she was finished, she walked back into the bathroom to throw it all away. The room would probably need to swept thoroughly—she made a mental note to get in touch with someone about that before too late that day. Now that her mind was not only more calm but she was more awake, Delilah was able to take a better look around the bathroom. Something looked… different. The bottom of her roommate’s jewelry box, Delilah realized, wasn’t with the rest of the box.

What the hell?

Delilah re-exited the bathroom, looking around carefully for the familiar box. Normally Delilah could spot it anywhere… Finally coming to terms that the box was nowhere in sight, Delilah headed back into the bathroom. She tried to quiet down the voices in her head that were screaming that something was very, very wrong. Max had had a bad night after all. That was it.

Under the sink, maybe? She pondered when she attempted to get back to the task at hand. She wanted things to be as organized as possible for her roommate when she returned. She was already going through so much, there was no need for her to worry about a mess too. Delilah could handle cleaning it. In fact, it was the least she could do. Delilah bent down, opening up the wooden doors and peering inside inquisitively.

Satisfaction had her feeling a bit better when she spotted the item. Very carefully, she pulled out the box to restore it.

And paused.

For inside the box rested a white powder. Delilah furrowed her eyebrows, crinkling her nose against the smell. Delilah had grown up in a poor neighborhood—she’d recognize it anywhere. She shook her head wildly, letting the box slip out of her hands and into the sink. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. Max wouldn’t do something so serious, would she? Not her Max. Not the Max that had helped her through so much…

But still, there was no denying the drug’s existence. “No,” Delilah whispered, digging her hands into her hair, “no. Please no…”

Slowly but surely, she felt like her world was getting turned upside down all over again. She had always just assumed that all Max did was smoke pot. And she was against it, sure, but she didn’t want to start a fight… but this. Why would Max do this? How could Max do this? How could Delilah have been so blind?

What didn’t she do right to prevent this?

Delilah’s heart hammered as her mind raced. What did she do? Tell? That seemed like the logical thing to do… this was dangerous. But who? Miss Martin? Amber? Piper? Miss Matthews? Delilah’s stomach twisted and she was certain she was about to start throwing up. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t.

She needed to tell. She couldn’t hide this, not when Max was so obviously doing this… but Max would be so angry with her. Could Delilah handle that? She’d have to know it was her to tell. She’d hate Delilah for sure. But wouldn’t that be worth it?
She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She just needed to get out.

Hastily, Delilah fixed the box and tried to avoid looking at the drugs. But they were there, right there, they were practically burned in Lilah’s memory. She couldn’t escape them. And she certainly couldn’t leave them here. Maybe she didn’t know what she needed or wanted to do about it yet, but she knew she didn’t want Max finding them. She could do that.

Holding her breath, Delilah reached out and grabbed the small bag before shoving it in her pockets. Banging everything shut, Delilah practically ran out of the bathroom. Her back leaned against the door and she slowly sunk to the floor.

Oh God, she thought, oh god, oh god, oh god….

A shaky hand reached into her pocket and produced the bag once more. There, in her hand, was Max’s vice. She closed her eyes. Feeling numb to it all suddenly, Delilah stood up. The drugs were clenched in her hand. Throw them away, she urged herself. Her feet soon betrayed her and lead her over to the drawer where Delilah kept her clothes. She opened the top drawer and buried the small bag beneath her clothes.

She’d find out what to do. She would.

Slowly, she walked back over to her bed and sat down. She nervously played with her hair. As she did, her fingers graced over her tattoo on her neck: free.

Free, she pondered. Would Max ever be free from her demons?

She laid down, letting both of her arms fall to her side. Maybe this was all a bad dream. She hoped it was. She desperately hoped it was.

Delilah closed her eyes.

Her half of the best friend necklace seemed to bear the weight of an anchor. It burned in her skin, deep to her bones, the promise she had made to Max. Max was her best friend. She had said so. She wouldn’t lie to her, right?

Free.

Delilah had to try and help her be free.