17, Still Can't Swim

Wherein Delilah's best friend, Isabeau, drowned in the open sea where she never learned to swim.

As Delilah mourns her loss, her guilty mind casts off her intimate cries onto the back pages of her self-made book of rage.

The rawest of love exudes wicked things; you would let them cut your skin and your heart would shiver by the torrid redness of intimacy.

And it was all written in this diary.