forum A Thousand Cranes // Rated PG-15 // Eris

Started November 30, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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I have a hard time to give in to it and let my body rest and heal, but I cannot deny how blissful it feels to be alone and unbothered for such long periods of time. Nothing has happened to indicate it will become the same here as it was before, with Peter, with William. The relief is staggering, just as powerful as it was last night. I shudder when I think of them. I don't know what I did to deserve them being out of my life, but if I were to believe in a God, I'd thank him on my bare knees in a pile of glass for it.

Even this first week here, however riddled with bad luck and horrible fuck ups, has felt like a vacation to me. Not your typical sun-vacation, as the sun hasn't really shone in all the days I've been around here now, but a vacation nevertheless.

Although I can’t sleep anymore, I still rest. Flicking the tv on for some background noise, I sit in my window seat holding a notebook in my hand. I have the urge to continue my childish obsession, just because I feel good right now, but there is a little part of me that still hesitates because I do not want my little arts to be stolen from me again. My fingers play with the edges of the soft paper.

Just as I’m about to put the notebook away, a small bird zooms by the window, chirping as loud as can be. That decides it for me. Within moments, I have several sheets measured out. With a final huff and a peek over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching, I fold one into a crane.

And then another.

And one more for good luck.

Maybe one more.

By the time I’m done, I have six paper cranes of different sizes perched on my desk. I can’t help the little quirk of a smile that appears on my face. I lean back, gazing along the ceiling of my room, wondering what it would look like to have the cranes dangling from the ceiling. I enjoy the mental image immensely, remembering how Iona had a pretty swirling tapestry hanging from her ceiling. Maybe Emmy would let me if I asked. I could make them out of colored paper too, instead of lined…

I shake my head, feeling silly. I search my desk for a pen writing the corresponding numbers on the body of each crane: 656, 657, 658, 659, 660, 661. Six hundred sixty-one. I stare at it for a moment. My wish still hasn’t changed from when I was a child, no matter how cynical or bleak the world turned out to be around me, I still had this one thing, this one wish. Even though my heart knew I didn’t want to know the answer.

Five of the six cranes get swept into a desk drawer. The biggest one sitting proudly on top of the unused laptop. A reminder. But I’m not sure what for yet. A reminder that I’m childish? A reminder that dreams and wishes are as flimsy as paper? A reminder that maybe, maybe I can make a better life for myself? I don’t know.

Best not to think about it now. I turn and leave the room.

It feels wonderful to get my legs moving again, although my muscles protest fiercely when I walk down the stairs. My stomach growls — maybe I am getting better. The wonderful news is I get to eat some bread and more broth.
I'm almost giddy. Food, what a godsend. Who knew?

Emmy is not in around when I reach the kitchen and softly rummaging about I find something to eat and to drink. Yes. Bliss.

The house is quiet, but I am fairly certain I am not alone. Emmy would have let me know if she was going to go out. I hear the soft tones of her talking in her office and figure she’s on a call.

Outside, it's not raining for a change, but the wind is blowing, and I can hear it rushing faintly in the trees. It reminds me of the ocean back in LA. Funny to think that would be nostalgic to me. I never thought I’d miss the sand and waves. Or sunlight for that matter. I want to go out, to get some fresh air. Maybe I can find the coat Emmy has lent me before. Walking into the hallway, I find the closet that holds the coats and find the Burberry in it. Taking my chances, I put on the coat while crossing the house and I slip out the door to the porch.

The fresh air is liberating. I walk to the railing and stand with my face in the wind. It feels soothingly cool on my skin. Looking up at the clouds, the wind picks up my hair and whips it around my face. It feels light, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel light, too. There is no sunshine through the cloud cover, but it’s okay. Somehow, I image that I can still feel it on my skin, warm little pinpricks all over my face.

I close my eyes and let a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth.

"There you are!"

I turn around quickly, my mouth opened in a silent gasp. Emmy is standing in the door, she is smiling but the look of worry is apparent on her face.

"You weren't in your room, safe to say I got a little worried." She chuckles as she comes to stand next to me. My eyes go wider still and convey what I hope a silent apology. Oops. Will she be angry?

The look on her face changes, softens. "You scared me, is all. I was afraid something was wrong. Feel better? Less tired?"

I nod, in understanding. I’ve been such a recluse that not finding me in the cave that is my room must have been quite the shock. Next time I’ll text her that I went outside. I can't prevent the tiny smile that accompanies my affirmation. I'm better now.

"I'm happy that you are starting to move around on your own. Don't stay out for too long, okay? It’s cold season, and I’d rather that we keep you healthy. Shall I keep you company?" She looks happy to be outside as well, and I honestly wouldn’t mind having her warmth beside me, but I have been enjoying my own silence, my own company for once, I think I would like to keep that way for a bit longer.

I shake my head. No, thank you.

Reading my face correctly, she smiles again. "I'm glad you feel better." And with that, she goes back inside. When she is out of sight, I turn to look back over the driveway again and let my thoughts drift with the wind.

I'm not sure how long I have been standing there when I see a car coming down the lane. As soon as I recognize Emmy’s Tesla – with Declan behind the wheel — I make my way inside.

Fully intending to slip past Emmy and hide out in my room, she steps out of the kitchen at that precise moment, holding a dishtowel and a wet plate. "Won't you keep us company for a bit?" She asks softly, carefully.

Does she really want me to? I don’t want to put a damper on everyone’s evening, but I think—I think I would like to join them.

Behind me, I hear the bustle of a car entering the garage.

"Please?" Emmy asks, and it's a loaded word. She's asking me for more than staying downstairs for now. It's the same type of 'please' that was used when she hugged me.

Oh, that hug…

"I know it's hard for you," She whispers as multiple sets of footsteps approach the door. "Will you please try?"
There something in the way she says it, as if she is afraid to ask this of me. This woman confounds me. Doesn’t she know I would do anything for her now? Honestly. I am still busy being confounded when the door opens and Declan, Iona and Josh enter the room.

"Oh, you're up!" Iona exclaims and suddenly she’s right before me, those long legs of her covering the distance in no time. She claps her hands and looks down at me with a sparkle in her eye. "I am so happy to see you better! You had us worried, you know."

Worried? Us? Hmmm.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Declan looking at me. To his right, Josh stands, and he's looking at Declan.

Iona, in the meantime, has continued talking. "… now we can finally start to get to know you!"

I look back at her as her words register. The age-old knowledge makes itself known again. I'm not worth knowing. Lowering my eyes, I fidget a little before I shove my hands into the pocket of my sweater. I don't know what to do.

"Declan, I haven't heard you play lately?" Emmy asks out of the blue. Innocently, changing the subject as she dries the already dry plate in her hand.

"Yeah, well, haven't had a mind to," He replies, shrugging and looking away.

"Well, play something now? I'm sure Cassia would like to hear you play." This time I look at her searchingly. Does she know about my violin? I don’t know why I get the impression that she does.

Now Declan looks up at his aunt and I can see he's uncomfortable. When his gaze shifts to me, I shake my head in a way I hope conveys that he shouldn't feel uncomfortable on my behalf. He doesn't have to play if he doesn't want to, especially not for me.

I'd like to hear him play, though. A baby grand… I wonder how that will sound in this house. I'm know the acoustics are fabulous from my little self-concert the other day. If he’s as good as Iona said, maybe we could play together some day…

I shift my feet. What a thought, Cassia. Jezz.

Declan smiles, that crooked smile, and looks down at the book he is holding. "Some other time, maybe."

Emmy tuts, but doesn't push. "So, how was school today?"

"Okay," Josh answers, obviously lying, just as Declan says "Purgatory, as usual."

I can't help my smile at this, and I look down to hide it.

"Tons of homework," Iona says brightly, before she turns to Declan. "Come on. I still need to kick your ass in Super Race."

"I'm game. Prepare for disappointment, though."

His twin huffs and leads the way to the living room. She turns before she rounds the corner and the boys walk past her. "Hey Cassia, want to see me embarrass Declan?"

"You wish!" He calls from the living room.

"Come on," Iona says beckoning with an elegant hand. Her smile is so gentle, and her eyes are so sweet, I can't resist. I'm giving in to an awful lot lately. I'm indulging myself. Yet I can't stop. It's completely addicting.

"Do you want to play?" Declan asks me.

I shake my head, startled by his request. How in the world would I know how to play video games? The controller he holds out to me looks like more of a torture device than a gaming utensil.

"Already trying to back out, bro?" Josh says teasingly as he throws an arm around Iona when she comes to sit beside him.

Declan cocks an eyebrow at him. "Never. Bring it on."

I take my seat in the same chair as I have used every time before in this room and I watch as Iona and Declan race equally silly looking cars on the big screen. It's serious business as both of them fire halfhearted insults at each other during the game. Iona beats her brother handily the first round.

Declan looks incredibly embarrassed. The high points of his cheeks and the back of his neck turning bright red. He mutters something about the first game never counting and looks over at me with a sweet grin. He’s having fun despite himself. His usual intensity diminished slightly and replaced by an easy carefree nature that is extraordinarily charming.

I force myself to look away.

Declan starts a new game and he and Iona race again, faces tense and fingers flying over controllers in order to get the cars on the screen to do what they want. Iona wins.

Nobody is really talking, apart from the occasional comment ("Three out of five!") or the occasional insult (“You really suck butt, Dec.”) and I find I am quite okay being here like this. They aren't paying any attention to me and it feels nice to be a part of this atmosphere, even, no, especially from the sideline.

It's incredibly selfish, I know, but I’m smiling more than I have in my entire life, I think.

The third round, Declan wins, and he pumps his fist in the air to celebrate a silent victory as Emmy comes in with drinks for everyone. She looks down at me and she's positively beaming.

"Are you okay?" She asks very softly so the others don’t hear.

I nod, showing her my smile.

"Good. That makes me happy." She whispers, and then she is away again.

Yeah, the woman confounds me. Something so casual makes her happy? I’m not doing anything special here.

And oh, that hug…

When Declan and Iona are on a tie, Nick comes home. He gets a snack from the kitchen and then comes to crash in the living room as well for a bit. It's a little crowded to my taste, but I try to stay calm. No signs of danger.

"Heya, Cassia!" Nick says as he sees me. "What a happy surprise!"

I cringe at his comment. Damn, I really need to get out of my cave more.

Declan makes a little “oof” sound and chuckles. Running hand through his messy hair as he stretches. His shoulders give a solid crack! and he relaxes back into his spot on the ouch. “Way to make it awkward, Uncle.”

Nick shrugs and mumbles something incoherent. "So, racing?" He tries.

The others chuckle and turn their attention back towards the game.

Whoa. I have rarely before witnessed this type of easy conversation. I am stunned.

"Cassia?" I look up and see Emmy standing at the entrance to the living room. "Will you join me in the kitchen for a moment?"

Oh, what did I do? I hurry to get up and do what she asks, trying to ignore the eyes I can feel watching my back. Emmy invites me to sit at the table and places a steaming mug of coffee before me. I lower my head in thanks and she smiles widely. "You're welcome. You really like coffee, don't you?"

I do. I used to be unable to function without it. I'm tense, anxious. What does she want?

She sits opposite me, with her own mug, smiling, although I don’t think she realizes that. "So, how are you? Really?"

I look up to meet her eyes and blush when again I think back to last night. Looking away quickly, I realize I don't know what exactly she means by her question. I tilt my head to the side.

"Do you feel good enough to stay up? How long did you end up sleeping for? Wait," She adds incoherently, and she gets up to produce creamer and sugar.

"Okay. I’m ready." She grins. It takes me a second to realize that she’s so focused on me because she wants me to sign at her. To my surprise, it doesn’t bother me to communicate right now. So I do.

Over ten glorious hours.

She grins, eyes flashing from my fingers to my face. "Good! Good! Do you have any pains still? Any discomfort? How is your throat?"

It's good enough. I shrug and nod. Nothing that I need extra medication for. Maybe I can just use Advil from now on?

"Okay. Just take it easy, will you? You don't have to do anything here but get better." She drops her chin into her hand, looking playful and young. I mean…I guess. To me, it's a non sequitur, and I try to hide my frown by picking up my mug. Sipping from my coffee, I realize how easy it has become in such a short time to even drink with others around.

"Is it confusing for you?" Emmy asks softly, after watching me for a moment.

Her words are so spot on right that I look up at her, unable to hide my surprise.

She chuckles softly, kindly. "I guess that it's different here from what you know?"

Yeah, you can say that again.

Emmy takes a drink, thinking. When she puts down her mug again, she takes a moment before she speaks. "It won't change, you know."

I blink, stunned. It stuns me every time she says something like this. I really don’t know why. She’s been on repeat since I got here.

"Here, I mean. How things are here. It won't change. Just making things clear," She smiles.

My breath escapes in a gust and I find I am shaking. Hesitantly, slowly, because I really mean it. Thank you, Emmy.

She waves away my thanks with another one of those sunny grins. "Oh, something else, I have filed a complaint against the doctor that examined you last week. He had no right whatsoever to treat you like he did, and he will have to answer for his actions."

My eyes go wide again, and I swallow. I wouldn't want that doctor to be in trouble because of me, but what strikes me more is that Emmy seems to think that the man did treat me badly. I have thought this over before but I'm apprehensive to draw any conclusions.

"He had no right," She repeats softly, yet sternly and I have the distinct feeling she is no longer talking about that doctor.

For the second time in less than thirty minutes, the room feels too hot and I don't know where to look. I wring my hands behind my mug. This is dangerous territory we are approaching here. I wonder, if she realizes that.

"Auntie, what will we have for dinner?"

My eyes fly up and I can see Declan standing at the breakfast bar. How long has he been standing there? I didn't hear him come in? What did he hear? Damnation, I really should start paying attention more. He's so quiet it's alarming.

Emmy fills him in on the menu and I fidget, uncomfortable.

"Speaking of which, I should get dinner going." She stands up and puts her mug in the dishwasher. Declan trails back into the living room, with a lasting look in my direction, which I do not return. When he is gone, Emmy asks, "You okay? You look flustered."

I shrug it away, hands flexing.

What can I do to help?

She smiles at me, although the look is cheeky and mischievous. "You can help me by taking it easy. Keep me company if you want or join the others in the living room. Whatever you like." Emmy shrugs, carefully folding and refolding a towel before her.

Whatever I like… Taking the shot I speak again.

I'd like to be cooking.

Emmy is smug as she nods. She's trying to hide it, but I think she's happy that I communicated an actual desire. However, she can't be any smugger than I am right now. I am helping out.

I am finally making myself useful.

I am pleased with myself indeed.

When Josh steps in and starts to set the table without much more than a mumbled greeting, I look at him for a moment. I'm tensed up, but he's not paying me any attention whatsoever as he sets out six plates in a manner that drips with routine. I shift my gaze to Emmy, narrowing my eyes at her. She sees me and laughs, a happy laugh.

Hey, what's so funny here?

Even Josh stills, surprised. “Uh—Auntie did you lose your mind for a second?”

"I'm sorry," Emmy apologizes, but the corners of her mouth keep tugging into a smile. "I should have handled that differently. But you look so indignant. I'm sorry," She repeats, and laughs again.

Josh hesitates, probably sensing he's intruding something, then turns to leave the kitchen. "I'll come back later."

Looking back at Emmy, I wait for her to explain why I am not allowed to help out when the others obviously do, and even without being told.

"I'm sorry," Emmy says again, somewhat serious now. "Let me try to explain. You probably took care of the entire household back in Los Angeles, didn't you?"

Carefully, I nod. Where is she going with this? I notice though that she doesn't use William’s name.

"Because it was expected of you?"

Again, I nod. My heart is slowly picking up speed as my apprehension builds. I clasp my hands together.

"And there were consequences when you didn't?"

I swallow thickly and I can see on her face that my reaction says more than any other sign could do.

Emmy thinks for a moment, her mouth grim as she processes my responses. All traces of her earlier mirth gone.
"That's what I thought. I wanted to teach you that we do not expect you to take care of the entire household. I thought it better to not let you do anything, for fear that you would do more and more. You see, we spoke to Jackie about this and she warned us you would. We wanted to give you some time off. Later, when you feel better and more at ease around us, you can do your part."

I listen, stupefied.

She faces me completely as she continues, dinner bubbling and snapping behind her. "It's not that we think you wouldn't be able to do it, but we don't want you to do it. Not for now, at least. You have to learn to enjoy your life, without feeling obliged to take care of the house, or those who live inside it. You’re a teenager Cassia, you should have the chance to live like one instead of as an adult."

Okay, now she's starting to talk nonsense.

"There will be no consequences if you don't make yourself useful," She finishes in a much softer voice.

Baffled, I look at this woman, my caretaker, my foster–aunt.

"Never, Cassia. Remember the contract? No violence."

I look away, fidgeting again. I stick my hands in my sweater pocket. How do I convey that this life she doesn’t want me to live is all I know? That ‘living as a teenager’ is so completely foreign to me that I can’t even begin to guess what that entails. How do I completely change my programming? How do I do any of this?

I stress for a few more moments before a yawn takes me by surprise.

"Will you rest?" Emmy’s voice from over my shoulder. Of course, she saw that. My goodness. But I guess she was watching me to see if I had anything to say in regard to her speech. I’ll have to stew over that some more until I lose my mind trying to figure out what this all means.

I might. The words are quick, and I don’t look at her. I hope Emmy understands that I’m not upset. Just overwhelmed. I turn to the sink to wash my hands and resume chopping the last of the vegetables to indicate this conversation is over if I have any say in it.

Emmy sighs softly and turns back to the stove, stirring dinner in its pot. After a minute or two, Josh strolls back into the kitchen like nothing has happened and he finishes to set the table.

Only now do I fully register that the table is set for six.

My movements still as I take in this tiny fact. I—All thoughts leave my mind. I’m touched that they would do this for me, but at the same time I feel bad that they go through all this effort only to stare at a blank space on their table every night. I frown slightly, uncomfortable as I shift on my feet. I glance at Emmy over my shoulder, question in my eyes.

"Of course, we set the table for you," She answers softly, reassuringly as she notices the direction of my gaze. "You are part of our family now." When I tear away my eyes from her to look at the table once more, she smiles. "Will you join us for dinner? You don't have to eat if that's too much, but maybe you will join us?"

Oh Jesus, will she ever stop asking me questions like this? Seeing my hesitation, Emmy continues. "You don't have to. Would you rather eat in your room?"

I have spent the afternoon in the company of others and to be honest, I am exhausted. I guess I have to take my social time like I take my meds, in doses.

So, I eat up in my room once again, sitting by the door with my tray so that I am able to listen to the banter and conversation down stairs. It’s like I’m sitting with them—in a way. I feel guilty and awkward when I return to the kitchen to clear my dishes away.

From the living room, I can hear the TV. In the kitchen, I’m startled to see Declan, rummaging through the freezer. He looks up when he hears me and smiles in greeting.

"It's becoming a habit, us meeting in the kitchen," He says, a crooked grin lingering on his face, as he pulls out a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

The corners of my mouth turn into a smile at his words. He's right. It seems that every time we are alone together, it is in this kitchen.

"So, how are you? Really?" His eyes are ablaze with sincerity as he asks me the exact same question his aunt asked me earlier. He keeps shooting me glances as he gets a second mug from the cabinet above him and scoops out two healthy portions of dessert. He places the second mug on the breakfast bar before me while he finds spoons, looking at me from the drawer.

He notices me pointing to the ice cream he got on his hand, which is melting and sliding off his skin.

"Oh shit. Uh—Thanks. Well?" He asks, licking up the side of his hand to catch his mess. I watch, semi-intrigued, barely noticing that he leaned closer to stick a spoon in the mug before me.

I give a one-shouldered shrug. I'm not overly tired, but I don't want to be uselessly lying in bed again.

"You know, I'd be staying in bed as long as I could if I was you," He says softly, lightly. A little air of mischievousness at the edge of his grin. "I’m just lazy like that though. It's amazing to see you up and about already."

He indicates that the mug before me is indeed intended for me and slowly I scoop out a small spoon of the treat. To what do I owe this unbelievable kindness?

Munching on a piece of chocolate from the ice cream, he steps back and leans against the counter, completely at ease. "Do you remember that you screamed last night?"

I shifted, looking away and lowering the spoon without taking the bite. Oh man. I shrug again, not really wanting to answer, but knowing it’s better that I do and do so honestly.

"You really had us worried," Declan says. A hand trails up to rub the back of his neck. He's uncomfortable.

That's a common reaction people have around me and I am used to it. Then how come that with him, it matters?

"Anyway, good to know your voice still works, eh?" He makes a show of shrugging, giving me yet another playful grin. I don’t really know how to react. I remember Nick saying something similar to Emmy as she was holding me last night. I think he thought I was asleep. Why do they consider this so important? I really don't see the fuss.

Seeing my expression, his smile falters, spoon halfway up to his lips. "You're not happy to know that?"

I cock my head, confused. Why would I be happy about this?

He exhales, lost for words. Well, this is awkward. I fumble with the glass, not sure what to do. I grip the handle about to bolt up the stairs, but Declan looks like he wants to say something so bad, that I linger.

The sound of his telephone pierces through the silence in the kitchen and while I jolt, his face doesn't change as his hand slips into his pocket to get his cell out. Checking the screen, he presses a button and the phone silences. He looks up at me, apologetically. "It's Lola. You know, the girl you met Sunday? I broke up with her last week, but she keeps calling me."

Looking down at his feet, he sniggers. "She told everyone at school that I had cheated on her. Unbelievable."

Oh, is that why Josh said something about his mistress? Makes sense now.

Declan shifts his gaze back to me. "She wasn't very nice to you when you met her here. I'm sorry for that. She had no right and I told her so."

Again, with the right…

"Anyway, I have to get going. Homework, and such." He puts his empty glass in the sink and turns to leave the kitchen. At the corner, he turns around. "It's nice to see you down here with us, Cassia. It means a lot to the family and—and to me."

Then he's gone, leaving me cold and lonely once more

The next morning is uneventful as I lay in bed listening to everyone get ready. I’m actually kind of thankful that Emmy wants me to linger in the house for a bit longer. As much as I know I’m ready to go to school once more, every time I think about how everyone will be staring at me that first day makes my stomach knot painfully. As the house settles after everyone has left, I begin to drift off once more. I know I’ll eventually have to bite the bullet here, but I suppose a few more days of ‘general relaxation’ won’t kill me.

The irony doesn’t escape me.

My phone bleeps, alerting me to the fact that Emmy has texted me.

I’m off to an appointment for the morning. I’ll be back around lunch. Please text me if you need anything. :)

Another message comes through a moment later.

Don’t forget to eat! Leftovers in the fridge and ice cream in the freezer. XOXO Auntie

I smile a little bit. Seems I finally know what to call Emmy. Hesitating, with my thumbs over the keyboard of my phone, I’m not sure what to say. ‘Thanks’ seems too flippant. ‘Thank you’ with a smiley face doesn’t seem like enough. Ugh. How do people do this?

I’ll be okay. See you soon.

I shove the phone in my pocket, embarrassed. Even communicating without the person present is a damn challenge. Perhaps I’ll need to talk with Ion about proper text etiquette. I sigh pushing all thoughts of the phone out of my mind. No need to stress over something I do not plan to use often.

Seems I have the house to myself again. For a few hours at least. The thought makes me a bit giddy. I can do whatever I wish, with no one watching me. I debate momentarily on taking out my violin again to play. I like the idea of filling this big house up with trilling notes, but in the end my stomach growls grumpily enough to spur me into moving out of my room. Maybe I’ll even watch some tv downstairs instead of returning to my reclusive cave.

After I’ve showered and relaxed a bit more, I put on my sweater and step into my jeans. I actually feel like a human being for the moment. I open the bedroom door a crack to listen if the house is indeed empty.

The silence should say enough.

On socked feet, I make my way downstairs, towards the kitchen, towards food. Although, I do stop in the living room to turn on the tv, spending a few moments flipping through channels before settling on a baking show that looks more than a little ridiculous.

Satisfied with the outrageous problems of British bakers, I move into the kitchen to make my own meal. A peek at the clock tells me it is closer to lunch than I realized. I frown slightly, putting the container of leftovers back on the shelf of the fridge. Emmy said that she would be back around this time, would she want me to wait to eat with her? Does she expect me to have lunch ready?

Oh no.

I have no idea what to do. She said that they really expect nothing of me, but I am doubtful. Besides, it would be the polite thing to do to wait. Right? I sigh shakily. I am hungry. My stomach takes that moment to yowl. I rub my temples, frustrated. I just don’t know. All these non-rule rules drive me insane. Sighing, I grab a large green apple from the fruit shelf and leave the kitchen. That way I keep my promise to Emmy that I ate, and I will still be hungry for lunch should she expect to eat together when she returns. Compromise.

The apple makes a satisfying sound as I bite into it. So yummy.

I settle into the mound of blankets on the couch, focused completely on my show. The cakes that get finished look absolutely wonderful. Enough to make my sweet tooth ache. I take a hearty bit of apple, imagining what it would be like to make a wild looking cake in the kitchen behind me. I’d make a hell of a mess, but I would enjoy it. I’m still smiling to myself as the next episode begins.

Ooh look, tiramisu. My favorite.

I’m practically drooling as I lean forward on the couch to memorize how to make the dish when I hear someone clearing their throat behind me. I fly up to see who's here. I thought I was alone.

Declan.

Hair in disarray, t-shirt and pajama pants. Eyes still foggy from sleep. Honestly? Looking a little pale and tired.

"Hi."

I look at him, alarmed. What does he want? Why is he here?

"Don't… Don't panic. I’m sorry I startled you." His voice softens with the last words, as if he is shy about saying them.

Gripping the blankets for support, some means to ground me, I try to prevent my heart from crashing right out of my chest. I nod and give a tiny wave.

"Um, I heard you down here and I was wondering if you were all right. Maybe would want some company watching–" He squints a bit at the tv as he carefully clears his throat again. I frown, it sounds like there is some ick in his chest. I hope he’s not getting seriously sick. “—Bake Off?” He smiles a bit, naming the show I was watching.

Slowly, I straighten up fully, my hands still knotted in the blanket. Cold air drifts around my legs, sending a shiver through me. I’m not used to this cool weather just yet. I shrug and smile guiltily. What can I say? I like cooking shows and I’m a little annoyed that I’m missing the recipe for tiramisu.

"Are you okay? Better? No more nightmares?" He shifts so he’s leaning against the edge of the couch.

I nod again. Thank god. I finally feel rested today.

"Good. Seems I caught a little something. I have a raging headache."

I frown slightly, wondering if I should grab him a glass of water and some advil. I let go on the blanket and it slumps on the couch with a soft noise next to the remote I also dropped.

"Gah. You don’t have to listen to me complain," He says, a crooked apologetic grin appearing on his face. "Did you want something to eat? Drink?"

I nod, because I am still hungry. But what about lunch with Emmy? Will she be upset if Declan and I get started without her?

"I’ll fix you something. Do you want a sandwich maybe? You can have solid food, right?" His voice quiets as he turns away from me and into the kitchen. I hesitate. Do I follow him? Do I sit back down and wait for him to come back? I could hardly focus on my show now. Besides, it’s a commercial and I’ve missed the most important parts.

I jump as Declan’s hand appears through the doorway, beckoning me inside. Well. That answers that question. I trip over my own feet as I hasten to follow his request.

"Why don't you sit down? I've to make up for the milk disaster, anyway. Just to show you that I’m not a complete disaster." He chuckles, scratching the side of his face, which is slightly pink.

I look at him incredulously. What a silly thing to say. I shake my head, once, twice and then a third time. I don't think that about him actually. I hug myself, feeling shy. Milk is tricky, you have to keep it moving so it doesn’t develop that icky film on the top. Not to mention that it froths like crazy, which would throw anyone off. I would hardly think that anyone is a disaster simply because of that.

Declan looks at me, head cocked to the side a bit, searching for something I don't know. Emmy has that look too, sometimes, come to think of it. "Please? Or are you not hungry?"

Sincerity once more radiates off him with this question, but I don't understand why he would want to do this for me. Maybe I should just ask him. I've got nothing to lose and it's one way of trying to learn if he will want something in return to this.

Lifting my hands, I make a typical 'why'-gesture, hoping he understands.

Declan laughs a little, but I can tell he is baffled at why I question him. "Because I want to do something nice for you. I've scared you and I fucked up making hot milk — let me make it up to you?"

Now it's my turn to cock my head at him. To my utter horror, my stomach growls loudly in the silent kitchen. I blush crimson and look down to hide it.

"Just sit down," He says, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. "Let me make you something. In this house it's normal to take care of each other."

As he moves to the fridge, I step back and walk around him to position myself at the other end of the breakfast bar.

"What, you going to see if I'm doing it right?" He asks lightly, teasingly. “Trust me, I can make a sandwich.”

I can't hide my surprise at his remark, and I notice that from where I’m standing it would be easy for me to make sure he doesn’t burn down the kitchen. For some reason that is ridiculously funny to me and I let out a little laugh sigh. Declan blinks in surprise and he turns towards me again, facing me fully.

"You laughed! I—Wow I didn’t think I was that funny. To be honest, I feel like I just made a miracle happen. I was starting to think your only emotion around me was ‘wary’ or ‘vaguely aloof’. Broke my heart, you know? I was worried you’d never like me. But I’m growing on you. I know it. It may be a weird friendship, but what friendship isn’t weird?” He winks at me playfully.

I think my mouth has popped open after this little speech. Apart from the fact that I never heard him speak so many words at once, I am stunned at what he just said. It’s just so ridiculous and casual. Like we’re already friends. Like I’m not a burden in this house. Like he cares about me. The fact that it pleases me that Declan already thinks so, is another shock. I’ve never had a friend before. Other than Jackie and she was kind of paid to do it at first.

Declan looks at me for a moment, his expression still open and inviting. Very different from how he is around everyone else, where he is more closed off. We exchange smiles. Obviously, he is learning how I communicate and although it is different from what he is used to, he is making an effort not to bombard me. He turns back to the fridge after a moment and chooses some stuff to make a sandwich with. I hardly see what he is doing. My mind is reeling with the information that I have a friend.

As Declan is deftly making two sandwiches, working quickly and efficiently, he smiles. "There are other places in the house where we can hang out, you know. The kitchen is cool, but Iona said you like music? Classical, I mean."

He looks at me as he asks his question, but I am suddenly shy. I know that he plays like I do, but he’s probably a lot better than me. Besides I don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough to pick up my violin in front of him. Best to avoid the subject, so he doesn’t accidentally find out. I frown and look away, but somehow, I think Declan has caught my blush.

"I do," He answers his own question. "I used to play a lot, but it’s been—” He puffs out his cheeks as he thinks for a moment. “Jezz, I guess it’s been a few years now actually. But I still listen to it a lot. Helps me relax, especially lately. " He looks down at the sandwiches and bites his lip after this admission, almost as if he regrets saying this.

I can feel my expression shift to concern. Declan doesn’t seem to notice though as he focuses on the cheese slices that he is adding to once side of the bread. I want to apologize for causing him—the entire family, really– so much stress, but I’m unsure how. I try unsuccessfully to meet his gaze as he puts the cheesy bread into the toaster oven. He has disappeared into his thoughts and I can certainly relate. So, the kitchen is silent for the most part, except for the ticking of the mini-oven’s timer.

"However," Declan continues, after the moment almost becomes unbearable, trying to lighten the mood again I think, "At least I don't have to worry about the quality of my sandwiches. Here you go, my lady." With an elegant swirl, he picks up the plates and takes them to the dining table.

He sits down at the head of the table and gestures for me to follow his example. I'm torn. I want to follow him, but it's a big leap for me to go and sit down at that table and eat. With a man present.

Swallowing, I deliberate.

"Oh, come on now," He says, smiling. "I'm not going to take it away from you or anything."

Oh, Jesus. What a thing to say, Declan.

He sees something in my look, for sure, as his eyes go wide, and he swallows thickly. "Oh—god. I'm so sorry."

I bite my lip, not sure what to do.

"What have you been through?" He asks softly, and I'm not sure if he's really asking me. I couldn't answer him, anyway. I look at the floor, embarrassed. Why can’t I even do this one stupid thing?

"Here's an idea," Declan says finally. "You sit down there and try to eat. We don't need to talk if you don't want to, and if it gets too much you just get up and leave. I won't hold you to anything, but maybe you could just try? We will still be friends even if we fail at this. I swear." Another once of those easy, carefree smiles appears on his face, lighting up everything about him. Especially those intense eyes of his.

He makes it sound like it's easy.

Thinking, he sits back, drumming his fingers on the table in a smooth rhythm. It’s easy to see how good he would be at the piano from this simple gesture. "If you would take half the energy you spend worrying about what could go wrong, on thinking of what could go right, would that help?"

I cock my head at this. I've never looked at it like this before, but then again, I've always been right about things going wrong, so why be optimistic when being realistic prepares you better for the worst?

He leans forward again; upper arms resting on the table and face serious and sincere.

"I won't hurt you, Cassia. Please believe me when I say this. I won't."

Oh, my God.

I believe him.

I really do.

I don't eat the sandwich, of course. I do sit down with him at the table finally and when I do so, the biggest smile I have ever seen appears on his face.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Declan was smug. Smug as hell.

He doesn't speak much as he eats and I pick at my food, and I find I enjoy the silence immensely. No questions, no consequences, no deliberations for once. Just sitting down. I didn't even know this could exist. I'm careful though. My body is tense as I watch and wait, my hands fidgeting in my lap under the table. There's always a catch, even though there doesn't seem to be anticipation in the air right now. I’m actually more relaxed than I usually am. Still tense, but my heart rate is somewhat normal and I’m not shaking.

Declan is eating, quietly, calmly. He doesn't look like he's brooding. He's not shooting me warning glances.

He's just here. A friend. I like that.

When he is done eating, he sits back. "Nothing better than napping with a full stomach," He says, patting his belly contentedly. "Don't you agree?"

Caught off guard by his question, I wouldn't know what to answer. Well actually, past me wouldn’t know, but me right now? She knows. So I nod carefully.

"I'm sorry," He says, smiling kindly, as he stretches his broad shoulders. "I know questions make you nervous. Yet I can't seem to stop asking you things. I guess I just want to know you. That’s what friends do, you know."

I'm incredulous and I'm sure this shows on my face. I'm not worth to know. Honestly, haven't they figured that out by now? They all keep going on and on about wanting to know me. They are exceptionally stubborn on this fact.

"You're so strong," Declan says so softly it's almost a whisper. "We can't even guess what you're been through and yet you're here, with us, holding your own."

I swallow thickly at his words. They sound so wonderful. He's wrong, though. Nothing strong in going through your life on autopilot. Nothing strong about doing everything wrong just by breathing. And certainly nothing strong about not being able to fight back, because it's all your fault. Always.

Looking down at my plate with the sandwich that smells like it fell out of heaven, I frown and sigh.

"Hey, Cassia?" Declan asks and I look up at him, surprised at the sudden change in his tone. Playful once more. I can’t help the tiny smile that flutters across my lips. "I dare you to take a bite out of that sandwich."

He's grinning and there is a spark in his eyes.

"In fact, I double dare you."

Stunned and unmoving, I keep looking at him. I blink. What?

"Of course, I wouldn't know what to wager, as I don't know what you would like to win, but I think you can eat something. Go ahead and try. I won't look if that makes it easier for you?"

What is he getting at? Rebellion washes over me, and I sit back, crossing my arms and arching a brow. Dare me? Huh, no. Double dare me? Now we’re pushing our luck, Declan James. I don't eat with others present. I thought this was very clear and it is my only condition.

"Don't be mad," He says softly, surprised by my defiance maybe. It only now occurs to me that I have indeed defied him and he's not angry. I'm shocked at my own behavior. Stupid girl, no wonder you trigger a beating so easily.

"I just would like to see you try it. I know you ate ice cream with Auntie, and we had that milk together. It's a good sandwich," He adds lightly, tapping his empty plate. "Believe me, I know."

Still with my arched brow, I look from him to the sandwich that not only smells like it fell out of heaven, it looks like it did, too. My lips twitch as I fight the smile that trying to burst free. He’s playing with me in an innocent, carefree way. Like friends.

"I won't take it away, and I won't bother you while you eat. Try it," He coaxes. "Just that tiny slice of cucumber there. It's calling your name. Can you hear it?"

Two things flit into my thoughts simultaneously. The first is that he is being funny on purpose, for my benefit. The second is that he is not manipulating but trying to persuade me. He's leaving me the chance to opt out if I want to.

This is… new.

"Cassia, eat me," Declan calls softly in a silly voice, impersonating said cucumber slice. My eyes fly back to him, incredulous but amused. His silliness is making me laugh. I can feel my ribs shaking, but all sound remains trapped behind my lips. They twitch more obviously now, which he notices.

He cocks his head for a moment, waiting for me to give in. He’s just as stubborn as me it seems. Finally, he shrugs. "Okay, suit yourself," Conceding, yet smiling. He doesn't sound disappointed or angry. "You're missing out though. It's good food and I know you are hungry."

I won. Ha ha.

Declan gets up, taking his plate with him. The moment his back is to me, I pick up the cucumber slice and put it in my mouth. My eyes close briefly without volition.

It's a sodden cucumber slice for gods sake, but it's the best damn cucumber slice I have ever had in my entire life.

Declan keeps busy at the counter, taking more time than needed I'm sure. Following his movements with my eyes, I give in. I pull the plate towards me, cringing at the dragging sound it makes on the table, and take a tentative bite from the crispy sandwich. The crunch makes the most satisfying sound I think I’ve ever heard.

Before me, Declan doesn't look around, but he pumps his fist in the air in silent victory.

I am pretty sure that could I see his face right now, it would be very smug indeed.

Declan manages to stay busy at the counter until I have eaten about half of the sandwich. I'm decidedly full and when I push the plate away, he finally turns around again, leaning against the counter.

"I'd like to say 'well done' but somehow I don't think that's appropriate. Was it good?"

I look at him, not blinking, afraid to admit that it was, indeed, good, even though my stomach is already protesting with the amount of content that it has been given to process. My lips betray me.

"This is a victory. We shall celebrate with mint chocolate chip. It’s my favorite, but I don’t mind sharing." He says, smiling as he straightens up and walks towards me. Following him with my eyes, I have to look farther and farther up as he approaches. I sit rigid, not sure if I should try to get up and away or stay put and see what will happen.

I grip the seat of my chair for some support as my traitor heart starts to pick up speed. Why is he approaching me?

"Just getting your plate," He smiles gently. "Are you done?"

When I nod, Declan leans forward over the table to pull the plate away from me. I exhale as he turns away from me again, my shoulders sagging from their tension. Although, my heart wasn’t racing as much as it would have before. I sigh. Declan confuses me.

Walking back to the kitchen, Declan looks to his left. "Oh! I completely forgot. Something arrived for you today. That box over there." He points and nods into the direction of the living room.

My heart is in my throat immediately. What could possibly arrive for me here, what can be in that box?

"I think it's your stuff. It was from someone named Dwyer?"

Dwyer! That's Jackie’s last name! Dare I think it’s a present?

I bolt into the direction of the living room and find the box on the floor. Checking the address, I can see it's from Jackie indeed. My smile is big and bright. She hasn’t forgotten me!

"Do you need help to open it?"

Startled, I look up at Declan, who is leaning against the wall near me. Again, I didn't hear him approach. Jesus Christ. I step back to put in more space between us out of reflex, berating myself for doing so immediately after. Friends don’t do that.

"Come on, let's get it into the kitchen," He says, apparently oblivious, as he comes forward, picking up the box with little effort and placing it on the kitchen table. I hover around him as he does so. Anxious—or is it excited?–about what’s in the box.

He goes to get a pair of scissors from a drawer and holds them out to me. I stand looking at him. I hesitate.

"Don't you want to open it? This is supposed to be your stuff, right?" He wiggles the scissors at me. I can tell that he is more than a little curious about what I received as well.

Without looking up, I nod. I'm biting my lip as I contemplate.

"Then open it! Or would you rather do it in your room? I mean, it's your stuff, after all." He lowers the utensil slowly. I can see the doubt darting across his features. We may be friends now, but I’m sure he realizes that there are things I want to keep private.

Finally, I look at him. I don't know what to do. It's not the question of where to open the box. It's more that I am apprehensive of what I will find in there. I was finally getting to feel the distance between my time with William and my time here. I don't know if I can face my old life.

"Open it," Declan repeats softly. "You must want to know what's in there. Hell, I would want to know what's in there. I’ll be right here if anything jumps out at you. Promise."

Biting my lip, I decide to just do it. It doesn't really matter if Declan is around or not. I've no connection with the stuff in this box, anyway. I'm not scared he'll take it away or mock me with it. I'm just scared of the memories that box holds for me.

Well, best to get it over with then. Picking up the scissors, I cut through the tape and open the flaps. Nothing pops out at us. We both sigh in relief. I pick up the letter that's on top of the items first, but don’t look any further. As I open the envelope with shaking hands, Declan steps back.

"I'll let you read," He says softly, and he disappears into the living room.

I have to hold the letter against the box to still my trembling hands.

Swallowing hard, I read.

Dearest Cassia,

How are you doing? I haven't heard from you since I saw you last at the airport and I want to know how you are. Did you receive my emails? I hope you are well. Nick told me you had a rough beginning but are on the mend! He thinks it's a reaction to the exhaustion and malnourishment and I agree with him. I don't have to be a doctor to see that you were running low on reserves.

I hope you are better now and that you are starting to see that the James family is genuinely nice. Please tell me your thoughts on them when you feel you can email me. I'm curious what you think of them!

Underneath this letter you will find the box with your stuff William has sent to me. Don't worry, he does not know your address and he never will. You will never have to go back to him, Cassia. And the James’ will never send you away. You have done nothing wrong and you deserve to stay in a good home.

Don't shake your head at me now, because deep down I know you know I am right.

I have not opened the box William sent. The contents are yours and yours alone, and it was not my place to check them. I hope you can use them still, but I am sure Emmy will understand perfectly if you want nothing to do with the things from your old life.

You've been given a new start, Cassia. I hope you will soon realize this.

I miss you.

Love Most Dearly and Forever,

Jackie

Tears are flowing freely now, and I can't prevent a sniffle to prevent my nose from dripping. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater and press my lips into a line, holding my breath and willing the tears to go away. She didn’t forget me. Jackie even said that she loves me.

What a world. It hurts, but I’m smiling. I guess I have more than one friend.

"You okay?" Declan asks softly from the entrance to the kitchen.

I look at him briefly, startled, again, before I look down again and wipe my face once more. I know I’m beat red in embarrassment.

"Are those good tears or bad tears?" He asks tentatively. "I mean, are you upset by the letter?"

I shake my head, not willing to talk about this but unable to ignore him. He's going through so much effort. Even I realize this.

"Good tears then?"

Nodding now, he steps closer slowly. "Do you want to open the box?"

Shrugging, I pick up the knife and rip through the tape of the smaller box inside the big one. Declan is on the other side of the table, a safe distance away. Although still protecting me from anything that should pop out, I guess. I am beyond caring if he sees what's in that box right now. There can be nothing of any value in it, anyway.

Finally opening the box, I look inside. My breath halts instantly and my heart explodes out of my chest with shock. Folding the carton back closed, slowly but determinedly, I step away from it, as if the contents could hurt me.

"Cassia?" Declan asks, alarmed, immediately putting himself between me and the box on the table. He looks from it to me and back again.

I could have known this. Sucking in air between my teeth in annoyance, I berate myself for not expecting this.

Stupid, stupid girl. What were you thinking? Of course, something like this would happen. Of course, I would get kicked in the back after all that happened. Of course, he would not give in that easily. Of course. And I have myself to thank for this.

Fuck.

"Cassia?" Declan asks again. This time a bit sharper. His hand comes up as if to touch me but freezes half way there.

I stand, unmoving, scowling at the box and willing it to disappear from this table, from my life.

Well, at least the message is clear. I shouldn't have opened it.

"I am looking inside the box now," Declan announces as he closes the distance between himself and the table. Gingerly, he folds open the carton and peers inside.

"Oh, what the fuck?" He breathes. "Oh, my God." Looking deeper inside the box, he reaches to pick something out and hold it in the light.

No! Panicked, I step towards him and reach out and pull the fabric he is holding from his hands.

No need to see this. No need to look at it. Put it away.

He doesn't let go.

Desperation and fear wash over me as we both hold a ragged piece of cloth that may or may not have been a sweater. Bright white spots all over it betray where the bleach has hit the fabric.

"Cassia," He breathes, still not letting go but trying to catch my gaze now. Holy crap, he is so close to me. I can feel the heat from his skin. Smell his soap and the faint scent of the apple he must have eaten while waiting for me in the kitchen. Holy. Crap.

All that registers with me is the frantic need to not have him see this humiliation. I clutch the fabric, desperate to get it from his hands and to put it back safely in the box, unseen.

His hands move and suddenly they're over mine.

My breath halts and I freeze immediately, my mouth still open slightly as I stare at where he touches me.

God he’s so warm.

"Look at me."

It takes some effort to tear my gaze away from our hands and to meet his eyes. I can only detect worry there and… compassion? Gah, I can't think like this! He’s so close all I can see are those goddamn icy eyes of his as they bore into mine. Yet the way he holds me is gentle and so kind that I want to burst into tears. But I don’t. My eyes remain stubbornly dry.

"This is… Oh my God Cassia, I am so sorry for you." He speaks lowly, yet with so much emotion I can do nothing but believe what he is saying. Still looking at his face, I am acutely aware of every inch of skin where his hands cover mine.

"Breathe," He whispers, as he lets my hands go, breaking the contact, I inhale, gulping in much needed air.

Dropping the ruined sweater back into the box, I hope he will let it go now. Just let me hide the box and nobody needs to know this has ever happened. I wish there was a way I could make this clear to him.

But he is not done and he starts rummaging through the contents, mumbling, "maybe not all is ruined," but he doesn't sound very hopeful.

I stand looking, frozen and feeling utterly powerless. I don't want him to see this, see my humiliation. Yet I don't know how to stop him. I am afraid to stand in his way. My hands somehow end up knotted in my hair. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Declan please stop.

Fuck. I will my tears back. Don't cry now. Don't make it worse.

William has shredded my clothes and if that wasn't bad enough, he has poured bleach over it to make sure they were ruined beyond repair.
I watch, helpless, as Declan looks through my stuff. I don't mind him seeing what used to be mine. I mind him seeing what William did to it. I mind him seeing me getting what I obviously deserve for what I did. He knows now. He so very obviously knows how much of a piece of shit I am.

Oh god, I don’t want to lose my friend.

"Hey, what's this?" He asks, as he grabs hold of something to pull it out. "A belt?" Confounded, he looks at the rolled-up strip of leather.

Oh no. Oh no, no no.

My breath leaves my body as every hair stands on end.

"This is not a woman's belt," He mutters, turning the brown leather over in his hands. "Why would he send this? Is it a mistake?"

When Declan looks at me, his eyes wide in question, holding the belt up as if to ask me what he should do with it. My stomach clenches and bile rises in my throat. That delicious sandwich is making a reappearance and I am powerless to stop it. I can’t take my eyes off of that damnable belt. Declan holds it out towards me and I back into the table in my haste to get away. My stomach turns for real and I have to run, fast, to the downstairs bathroom where my body gets rid of the heavenly sandwich.

It takes me some time to calm down again afterwards, and to suck up the courage to leave the bathroom and face Declan. And the belt.

That belt.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the hallway and immediately hear voices in the kitchen.

Ah, hell.

Listening in for a moment, I can hear Emmy. Did she get home just in time for the show?

Oh my God, will she be angry?

I halt. I need to see how the lands lay before I go back in.

"I feel so sorry for telling her to open it," Declan says. "But when she saw the belt she just ran off to vomit. I…"

“Oh honey,” Emmy says, there’s a shuffle and I know she’s hugging him. “You had no idea what would be inside. It’s okay.”

"It's just… She was so scared suddenly. What could I possibly do with a belt?"

The silence that follows is tangible.

"Oh, what the f–Sorry. This cannot be happening. To Cassia? Cassia?! She couldn’t hurt a fly?! Why would someone do this–?"

"You couldn't know." Emmy interrupts as Declan’s voice breaks. "Don't berate yourself over this. You were only trying to help."

"And here I was, being so proud I got her to eat something," Declan says desolately.

"You made her eat?" Nick asks, and the surprise is obvious, but genuine. I hadn’t even realized he was home as well.

"Yeah," Declan says, sounding falsely off-handed. "Although I think she wouldn't want you to make a big deal out of it. It was great. Really great."

"It's still quite the achievement, Dec. She must start to feel more comfortable around you." Nick again, always so compassionate and proud.

Just as I start to walk again, a disapproving sound from the living room alarms me and I halt in my tracks, apprehension gripping me.

"This is horrible," Emmy mutters. "Look at this. How could he do this?"

A silence falls and all I can hear is my own heavy heartbeat.

"She deserves so much better than this," Emmy continues muttering. "He has ruined her almost beyond repair already and now he kicks her in the back. It's a good thing I don't know where he lives. I want to kill that man for doing this to her."

Emmy’s words rattle me. I'm afraid to believe she means what she is saying right now. But it seems to me that she's blaming William for this.

"Her foster father?" Declan asks softly, and another heavy silence falls.

"Yeah, Dec," Nick says quietly on a sigh. "Her foster father."

"This… He… What…?"

"Yeah.” Nick admits with another sigh

"But…And that belt?"

Some shuffling, some rubbing sounds.

"Shit."

"We know," Emmy says comfortingly. "Ssh."

I wait for a moment, not wanting to interrupt this and not allowing myself to think that what is going on in that living room actually has to do with me.
"I can't believe what she must have been through," Declan says so softly I can barely hear it. "I mean… There's just so much good in her, and here she is, afraid to breathe."

"We know. That's why we let her come here. All she needs right now is a warm and welcome home. The rest will follow." Nick says and there is a sound like a pat. Nick must have gripped Declan’s shoulder.

"I didn't know."

"We didn't either, honey. Not that it changes our point of view on her stay here, but we never knew."

I have to swallow hard to hear them talking about me like this. Not a vile word, not one nasty thing. They're nothing less than kind and gentle. I'd expected them to at least be honest behind my back, so either they know I may be listening in, or they are speaking the truth.

Huh.

The one solidly rotten thing about this however, is that Declan now knows about my past. The delicate bond we have built — if I can call it a bond, no best not call it a bond — will now surely stop.

Back to one friend, I guess.

Deciding to put an end to all of it, I come around the corner and make myself known in the living room.

"Oh sweetheart," Emmy breathes, turning to me. "I am so sorry for this. Are you okay?"

What a silly thing to ask. Declan, standing behind Nick, looks uncomfortable. See? He'll want nothing to do with me now anymore. Nick just looks at me with a look of concern etched on his face.

I stare down again, fidgeting, not knowing what to do or what they expect of me now. I am ashamed beyond reason and I can feel it on my cheeks.
"Do you want to go through the clothes to see if anything can be salvaged?" Emmy asks softly.

I shake my head, no. I don't like that they all have seen the ugly truth in that box, and I fidget some more, uncomfortable.

It's obvious. William always told me I ruined him. I guess that by leaving, I did. And now he gets back to me the only way he still could. He sent the belt along too. Just to be helpful for the James’. Just to make clear that he expects my life here won't be too different from what I knew with him.

A wave of nausea washes over me again and my empty stomach contracts so fiercely it hurts. I hold my breath and wait for it to pass.

Nick disengages himself from the tiny group at the table and walks towards the kitchen, not speaking. I follow him with my eyes, waiting to see what will happen. The atmosphere is decidedly tense, yet I do not sense any danger.

Pulling something out of a drawer, Nick walks back to the table. His face looks grim, which alarms me. When he picks up the belt, I take a step back, heart once more picking up speed and eyes going wide. I bring my hands up in front of me in a half-defending, half-apologizing gesture, waiting.

Without a word still, his lips pressed into a tight line, Nick unfolds the belt and cuts it in half. It's tough work through the broad strap of leather, but he's succeeding. Apparently, he is strong as hell. The two smaller parts undergo the same faith and finally he cuts off the metal clasp. The leather belt that has caused me so much grief, no longer exists.

This belt at least will not be used on me anymore and the relief I feel about this is palpable. I do not fail to see the ritual in Carlisle demolishing this belt. I let out a silent sob, my body shaking as I drop my hands back to my sides.

When he is done, he leans on the table for a moment, before his face relaxes, and he looks up at me. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get rid of this."

Stepping back, he beckons me to come forward and pick the pieces of the table. I go immediately and without hesitation. The belt feels heavy in my hands, the leather feels like tiny needles against my skin. Taking a shaky breath, I look at the pieces of what once could hurt me so much.

"No more," Nick says softly, but almost authoritatively. "That's over and done with. No more."

Looking up at this man, I can see hurt in his eyes. There is nothing threatening about his demeanor at all as he talks to me.

Stepping ahead of me, he holds out his arm in a gesture to follow me. "Emmy, if you would join us," He says softly, and she moves immediately, preceding me out of the kitchen, out of the house, towards the small dumpster they have under the porch.

None of us are wearing coats, but I barely feel the cold.

Nick opens the dumpster for me and holds out his hand. "Go ahead," He says invitingly. He’s even grinning. I stare at him as I step forward gingerly, for once not entirely alarmed by his close proximity, and I drop the belt in the bin. I’ve kept his eyes this entire time, their brown warm and happy. “That’s my girl.” He says into the air between us.

My lips quirk. Oh.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Emmy says, ferociously. "This is your new life, Cassia, and it doesn't contain any violence. Let this be the sign to start it for real."