There's always more than one way to look at things. I thought I'd explore Delta's so-called "evil" actions and try to find some justification for them.


Monster! They shout at me, beast, savage, and I want to scream, to tell them no, I am not a monster, but all I can do is make noises no different than the mindless sound of bullets hitting flesh. No meaning, just noise, and I'm not a monster, I'm just scared. Scared for Eleanor, scared that I won't be able to save her, that I'll get there and it will be too late. A monster doesn't care about anybody like that, at least not if I remember the stories I know about monsters, but it's possible they put those in my head too. But they run screaming at me and I can't help it, and I cut them down, over and over.

The old woman, not that old but something in her voice and posture makes her seem so much more so, stands there, her eyes hard as stone, and I hesitate. She cares for Eleanor too, but she's sent hordes of madmen after me and what's to say she won't do it again? I close my eyes against the shudder of my drill colliding with flesh and bone, and I am sorry, I am so sorry Eleanor, I tried asking what you wanted but you wouldn't tell me, and I'm just so scared, please, Eleanor, it's like I don't even know where I am. Things are so much worse than they were when I died.

The man, the man who said those things about me and had me locked away, cowers before me now, his lips moving in silent prayer, or moving, anyway. I don't remember if he lied or not. He might not have, but the anger in your voice is frightening and I pull the trigger without thinking. He dies with his arms held up and urine soaking his pants and I wish I could have given him some warning. He was only afraid too, and you never know, maybe he was telling the truth and he was right to have me turned into this thing. There's so little I can be sure of, only what you tell me, Eleanor, and I know you would not lie.

The girls are scared now too and they run from me as I come near, but I need what they have so I can get to you, but the pain on their faces stays behind my eyes, so even when I turn away I still see them screaming and the slow fade of that yellow light, and feel the twist of their small bodies as they die in my hand, afraid. You told me they were all part of you but isn't that like killing you over and over, and is that really okay with you? I wish you would speak to me more often, because it's getting harder and harder to sleep, and I feel like you might be angry at me. Please, Eleanor. Just wait a little longer. I'm doing my best, I promise.

The tank, full of blood and flesh and the remains of a once-kind man. I gather the plants to the soft echo of his cries, as if he knows what is coming as well as I do. He doesn't remember making those speeches and asking to be killed, so he begs for his life and I wonder if we are really all that different, our memories full of holes that others insist on filling for us. Then I remember you Eleanor and I know that you are what makes us different, that I have someone I am loyal to, and that the screaming thing in the tank is just a ghost that cannot move on without me. I watch the water turn white and then red and I wonder if the doctor is finally happy, even if I am not, not yet.

Finally we are here, Eleanor, between the waves and the restless sky. You are beautiful but my eyes are fading and I cannot even move to hold you. You lean over me and your eyes are cold, dark, like the sea itself, and that scares me because I thought you would be happy, Eleanor. I tried, I did so much and I thought of you every step of the way, but I'm afraid again, like I was in front of the old woman and the man and the thing in the tank. I'm scared, Eleanor. Why won't you smile? I thought we would finally be happy together, one last time, but you're not, and I feel so weak. I cannot see your face through the red haze and the pain in my skull. Are you still there, Eleanor? Please tell me what I did wrong. I just want to see you smile again.


I love you, Eleanor.

I'm sorry.