My subconscious is aware that someone is behind me, but my desire for the truth is greedy and requires answers.

“Those aren’t yours.” The single sentence is chilling. With my heart slamming into my throat, I whip around to face Cody, nearly falling off the chair. Caught red-handed.

What makes matters worse are that his eyes look how mine feel. Exhausted and spent. The remainder of his expression, though, is hard and lacking forgiveness.

Swallowing thickly, I tell him, “I’m sorry.”

“I mean it, Delilah.” Cody’s pale blue eyes hold a warning as he adds, “Everyone has their boundaries.”

Marcus

The majority of people in Delilah’s hometown, a staggering ninety-two percent, are born in the hospital that’s thirty miles from her home. It’s where she was born and her sister too. We’re far away at the moment, but I think of that hospital oh so often.

Nostalgia, perhaps.

When I looked up her birth records years ago, I noted her mother was also born in that hospital, delivered by the same doctor. A woman named Meredith was proud to be the lucky doctor who brought them both into the world. Isn’t it a beautiful thing, bringing a new, innocent life into this chaos?

Staring at the monitors while Delilah stares at Cody, I think back on those days, the earliest ones of my life. There’s not much before the barn that I remember. Only the immediate events leading to it. I consider those events my conception. After all, had they never happened, I wouldn’t be who I am.

She was born in the hospital and I was born in that barn.

“I appreciate it, Cody, really I do … but I can’t stay here.” With her arms crossed, Mr. Walsh should know he’s not winning this one. It’s his controlling nature, his arrogance even, in thinking his home is better suited than Delilah’s.

Turning my head to face the window, I can make out their silhouettes through the curtains. From my vantage point, and given their positions, it’s easy to tell they’re having a heated argument. Having the monitors, though, is far more helpful. I should feel guilty that a system I put in place years ago is now being exploited. I should feel many things … and I am, just not the correct emotions.

My phone buzzes with a message, but it’s not one from either of them and I’m far too interested in this development.

Their argument is unfortunate. Not because I wish them pleasantness, or because either of the two are making a better case than the other. It’s unfortunate simply because the raised voices and harsh tones are so very reminiscent of a lovers’ quarrel.

Memories swirl and I lean back against the roof tiles. With the moon setting just beneath the tree line, it’s dark enough that no shadows can survive. They’ll never see me, but I can see them just fine.

And with the monitor in my hand, I can hear them just as clearly.