The Secrets That We Bury

By Salem Miles

"No matter how far you run from the past, it always catches up to you. And we aren't exceptions to this rule."

***

Following the revelations of The November Party incident, Dalia and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ukiyoto Publishing
• Release date: Sep 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9789360490904

Book preview

Prologue

Dear Dalia,

I

know there’s a chance you’ll never read this. I’ve done some pretty shitty stuff as your best friend. I just hope you know that I told you the truth for a reason.

I told you because I know you won’t make the same mistakes I did in the past. Desmond held something over my head to keep me from reporting him, but he has nothing over you; you’re the only one that can put him down.

If you ever open this, I just want to say I’m sorry. There are things I wish I’d never done to you, secrets I wish I never hid from you and lies I wish I could take back. James has my diary, and in it, is your fully blown letter of everything I’ve ever lied to you about, secrets kept from you, and much more. This letter is not to instill more anger in you, it’s to let you know that I apologize and that I am humbly asking for forgiveness.

I wish I could take time back. I wish I could’ve fixed the mistakes I made before I decided to end it. But I couldn’t. I had too much pain and regret that I just had to. I never meant to hurt you like that. I never thought that a harmless joke could ever turn into a horrendous rape story. I don’t know what happened in that room, and trust me, I don’t want to know. I probably won’t ever know.

I love you, and I believe within time you’ll move on from me. Sometimes, the wrong people meet at the wrong time and connect in the wrong way. We met at the right time, but we ended up disconnecting because of my vigorous action.

Don’t push away James because of me. Don’t push away any of your friends because of what I did. You tend to do that when you can’t handle your emotions, but don’t, it’s not their fault, it’s mine, so don’t push them away…EVER. You’ll need them more than ever now, and they’ll be there for you every step of the way, especially my brother. That boy doesn’t give up on anyone that easily, and I’m sure that he wouldn’t give up on the person he fought so hard to even catch a glimpse at.

My last piece of advice is to not give up on yourself. You’re stronger than I’ve ever been, and you will get through this. The journey to recovery is tough, and it’s okay to feel hopeless or restless, but in the end it’ll all be worth it. Breathe. Remember to breathe. That air is there for a reason. To calm you down, to satiate your fears and your body. Take a breath, and do this. Do the right thing; you’re good at that anyway.

And remember that you’ll always be loved and accepted by those who love you. And even if you feel like I never loved you, it’s okay, but just know that I did.

And I always will.

To forever and beyond, from your blondie,

Julianna Stefanie Robinson.

James

"I

f you’re looking for her, she’s not here," I mumble as Delilah bursts into the house, turning every pillow as she paces across my living room.

Dalia left. She actually left.

It felt like a dream to me. Everything felt like a fever dream; from seeing Julianna on the screen one last time to the revelations, I thought I was high or drunk. The only thing that brought me back to reality was the empty space next to me when I opened my eyes and shifted in my bed.

A part of me knew she would’ve had a mental breakdown and possibly ask to go home. I thought she'd trash Julia's room for the sake of releasing anger. Heck, I thought she’d beat me up for the sake of it. and I was willing to take it all because I know what that type of trauma and pain can do to a person. I know what it feels like to feel lost and betrayed.

I was hurt by my own sister and parents anyway.

When she beat herself up and almost broke her freaking hand, I knew something would happen. I was prepared to take her home if she asked me to, but all she did was curl up into a small ball as I cuddled with her to bed.

When I woke up, she was gone. No note. No nothing. Just gone. I’m not surprised either.

She didn't come over first thing in the morning like she promised and she isn't answering her phone, James, she says, and I hum as a response, examining the glass. Delilah walks up to me and snatches the empty wine glass I am currently toying with. This isn’t funny, Robinson. Where the hell is she?

I stand up, my anger slightly reaching a boiling point. "Well, you see, Delilah, she isn’t here, and I don’t know where she is in the slightest. So, take your little search party and leave my house."

James, I don’t care about what you want me to do because this isn’t about you; this is about Dalia, she says, her hands clenched into fists. If you don’t tell me where the hell she is, I’ll go find out for myself. I don’t have time to waste with you.

She left early, so good luck with that, I scoff, watching as she attempts to walk away. Delilah?

James.

I take a deep breath, keeping my composure. How close were you to Veronica?

She looks confused. We were tight. Why?

She knows, I deadpan. Guess you don’t know your friend well enough.

I don't understand, what does she know?

About the rape.

For the first time in forever, I see Delilah freeze. The glass falls from her fingertips and crashes onto the floor, millions of tiny pieces scattering across our porcelain tiles. I look at the scattered glass on the floor in amusement, waiting for Delilah's response.

Tell me you’re joking.

I honestly wish I was, I reply, leaving the living room to go grab a broom. Dalia got up and left in the morning without another word. I guess that’s what happens when your trauma slaps you in the face.

I don’t get it, James. I don’t. She grabs the broom and starts sweeping the shards. There’s no way she could’ve remembered that easily.

Before I could utter my statement, I walk up to her and gently place my fingers on the delicate necklace around her neck. Where did you get this from?

She eyes me curiously. Dalia. She gave it to me a couple of weeks ago.

Interesting.

Dalia only remembered because of my damn sister, I say, the disgust and bitterness present in the tone of my voice. Had I known Stef would say all that and Dalia would run away, I would’ve never told her to play it in the first place.

Play what?

The video tape, Delilah. There was a recording.

Delilah sits on the couch, hands in her hair. She then wipes the excess hair food on her orange crop top, looking at me. She closes her eyes, takes off her orange hair band and lets her now straightened hair loose, angling her face in a sculpted manner. She almost looks like an orange demigod with the orange makeup highlighting her entire outfit.

Must be the fact that she wants to be a makeup artist in the future that makes her look magnificent while coming to a broken household.

Do you have any idea where she is? Or what exactly she found out?

I can answer your second question, I still don’t know where the girl is yet. I shrug, taking a seat next to her. It was Desmond.

She looks confused. What? He took her away from here or…

Desmond raped her last year. I sneer, my own hands balling into fists as I think of that bastard son of a bitch.

That’s not true…Des was with me, Julia and Veronica at the party. I look at her incredulously. "Oh…oh."

You understand now, right?

She nods, getting up. There must be more to the story. Dalia would’ve killed the bastard by now.

You’re really dense for a therapist’s daughter, I comment.

No one asked for your opinion.

Yet I still gave it, Lilah, I say, giving her a small smile.

She sighs. Vero had something to do with this, didn’t she?

Positive. Your best friend—

"Former, she corrects me with a downcast look. Former best friend."

I clear my throat. "Right, sorry. Your former best friend and that dead piece of shit decided to lure Dalia into a room with Desmond."

You’re joking.

And he fucking touched her, hit her, put his penis—

Okay, okay, I get it. she frowns. Fuck.

That’s how your crew does things, I guess. I really wonder why you're shocked. I shrug. Aren't you guys used to doing stuff like this? I know my sister was, and Veronica and her were friends before you showed up in the picture.

She sits up. Wait a second, how’s that my crew?

You’re friends with Veronica, right?

Yeah, and?

So I'm surprised you're still here, putting up a front, I say, cocking my head to the side.

You can't be serious, she murmurs. You can't be fucking serious, Robinson.

I shrug. Who knows, you could be lying to me about this.

James, are you trying to blame me for what Desmond, Veronica and your sister did? She stands up and eyes me down.

I stand up too. I don’t know where your loyalties lie.

I’ve been friends with Dalia for too fucking long. I’ve also been friends with Veronica, and I’ve never let the two blur out their relations with me because of what they have going on, she says, moving closer to me and sticking her finger in my face. So for you to think that I’d have something to do with some sick shit like that really hurts my feelings.

So, you didn’t have anything to do with it?

No, James. No. she pushes me back, showing the middle finger. After everything you and I have been through, you’re really going to turn your back on me because of something your sister did?

I don't care about what we've fucking been through, Cromwell! I exclaim, watching her flinch a little. Shit, I'm sorry, fuck I'm so sorry.

She brushes my outburst off. It's fine. It's alright. She shakes her head. You know I had nothing to do with this. I promise you. I had no idea Veronica would stoop so low.

Maybe if you had put your friend on a leash, we wouldn't be here in this fucking mess. We wouldn’t be in this position if you told your friend the exact time and place to be joking around. I shake my head. We wouldn’t be in this position if—

James my dude, are you crying?

I don’t respond, taking a seat back down as I close my eyes. I could’ve done something, Delilah. Anyone could’ve done something, but we were all stupid. We’re stupid young kids doing things meant for grown-ups.

Surprisingly, her arms wrapped around me for the first time in a year. This isn’t an intimate hug or anything, but it’s one that gives you comfort, one that makes you feel like you're not alone. Loneliness occupies my heart right now, the heart that died when I woke up and my baby girl wasn’t next to me.

Dalia and Delilah are literally of the same build. I say this because there’s no way I’m letting Delilah touch me for this long and not pushing her off me. Maybe the reason she’s still latched onto me is because she’s somebody that I can feel Dalia through. I miss Dalia.

But that doesn’t mean I will force her to be in my presence if she doesn’t want that.

I now know why you’re acting like such a cunt, she whispers. I’m sorry for not seeing it before James. I’m so sorry.

It’s okay, you can let me go now, I mumble, hearing her project a small apology before she sits back down.

Let me see if I can call my mom, it’s Saturday and Dalia is probably there at her office, she suggests, pulling out her phone. Should I?

I shrug as she dials. She immediately places the phone against her ear, her eyes never leaving mine.

Hey mom, sorry to disturb you but is Dalia over there?  a relieved grin stretches across her face. Great! I’ll be there in a minute mom! Alright, I’ll be right down there. Bye. She looks at me. She’s at my house. We have an office for her there as well.

Oh, thank God, I mutter. I hope she wasn’t out in the cold or anything before that. I can’t imagine her freezing in this weather.

It’s still warm as fuck, I’ll be on my way now. We both stand. She gives me a tap on the shoulder. I’ll get to the bottom of this. We’ll fix this mess.

We’ll try. I give her one last hug. Delilah?

James?

Are we ever going to tell Dalia about—

"No, she says quickly. No. There are just some secrets that need to stay dead." Delilah shakes her head.

I stick my hand out, waiting for her to shake it. "We're friends, we've always been friends, and we will always be friends."

Delilah hesitates. James, what if Julianna–

She never knew. I clench my teeth. And Dalia will never know.

Nor will Lionel. She shakes my hand, and pulls me closer. If this ever comes up again, I'm denying you. I'll deny our friendship, I'll deny the allegations. All of it, I'll deny.

We stare at each other for a little longer, and I use my other hand to run my fingers through my hair, and then delicately touch her necklace.  Dalia and Delilah need each other; whatever happened between Delilah and I can never come to light. Ever.

She looks at my hand, and slaps it away. Keep your word.

I'll take it to the grave. I shrug. In the meantime, check on Dalia for me.

Deal.

She starts to walk to the door. Delilah?

She stops, hand on the doorknob. Robinson?

I hope we're okay. I sigh. We're genuinely okay, right?

She grins, almost sadly. Of course we are. After all, I know you chose the better woman.

Before I could respond, she walks out the door and slams it shut. I sigh, heading up the stairs. When I finally reach Julianna’s bedroom, I enter and look around.

I was right.

The place has been rummaged through, as if someone had been looking for stuff. Her purple nail polish was splattered across the walls, her banana powder littering the floor. I’m not surprised, if I was the one who did it I would’ve done worse. I only know that it’s Dalia, because there was no one else in here but us.

I open Julianna's little safe with the code I found on her desk, taking out her diary. A piece of paper falls out of it, and I pick it up, reading the contents of it.

Typical. Of course, Stefanie had a couple more letters. If it was directed to someone unimportant like Desmond, I would’ve ignored it. But, it’s directed to Dalia.

Somehow, this letter gives me a bit of hope. Julia knew Dalia well, and obviously sensed something like this would happen if she found out. This may just be the only request of Julia’s that I’ll honor.

Below the diary lay two butterfly pendant necklaces, and I assume it was something Julianna planned to give Dalia for her birthday, because it was under the letter anyway. After examining one of them a little longer, I put it back in the box, going over Julia's letter one more time.

Honey! We’re home!

I stuff the letter back in the diary and place it on the bed, ready to take it to my room later. When I close Julia’s door and head down the stairs, my blood begins to boil. My parents lied to me for months, keeping a dirty secret, and there was no way I was going to pretend in front of them.

Hi honey! my mom begins but I take a step back. What’s wrong?

I don’t smile, I just look straight at my dad, who is staring at me with such intensity. I’m used to his incandescent gaze by now. It never fazed me before, and it surely won’t make me miss a step now.

Son, he greets.

Dad. I nod. "Mom, dad, I need answers from you two."

My mother frowns. What happened? I’m sorry if we’re a bit late, you know how traffic is nowadays.

That’s no problem mom, what’s wrong is that you haven’t told me something, and I’m surprised.

Just say it, son. Stop talking in riddles, My father orders.

Stefanie was pregnant, I say, watching the couple fall silent. Why didn’t you tell me?

Dalia

"D

alia, Dalia can you hear me?"

I continue to stare straight ahead, eyeing the picture of a sunset hung on Ms. Cromwell’s wall. The orange calmed me, the orange blending in with the red and yellow glow of the atmosphere, trying to calm me. My body is shaking convulsively, and I can’t stop thinking about everything he’s ever done to me. He’s the physical embodiment of a devil, and if there’s one thing my mother told me is that;

Demons aren’t born. They’re made. They live among us. In us. With us.

Dalia. Ms. Cromwell sighs. I’m here to help. Please, speak.

I remain silent, and lay down completely on the couch. It’s been hours since I’ve eaten anything, hours since I’ve taken a shower, and probably years since I’ve felt like atomic shit. I’m not only in physical pain from throwing up all morning and scratches that I obtained from the fall that I took on my way to the therapy session. Beside the physical pain is the emotional one; living a lie for so long will make you restless when the truth finally comes to your doorstep and swings you in the opposite direction. One that you’ll probably hate for the rest of your life, one that’ll leave paths of destruction on its journey to self-discovery and peace.

Your body is a demon’s playground and you’re the monkey bars. Prepare for it to stick there for as long as possible.

Stacy, my manager at the Coffee shop, let me stay in the shop for the night, not sure of what to do. I hadn't said a word, and she didn't ask, so I sat in the shop and drank at least four cups of coffee. I needed something to stop my growling stomach, and at the time, it did. But now, I can feel the high rush of adrenaline and energy dwindling down to nothing but despair and depression.

Suddenly, I feel Ms. Cromwell’s hand touch mine. She rubs the surface of the bandages, sighing. I look her in her eyes, and wonder when she’ll just quit. There's nothing left for me anymore; I don't think I can be helped, even if I desperately need the help.

I’m not here for a therapy session, Ms. Cromwell, I state, my voice getting progressively lower with each word I utter.

Then what are you here for, Dalia?

The thought of telling her the real reason crosses my mind not once, but twice. Speaking up could get me