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

Started November 30, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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Thursday is dreary, the world shrouded in a grey curtain of mist and rain. The drive to school is quiet, even Iona appears to be contemplating life as she stares out the window in the back next to Cassia.

The tiny brunette always stares out the window on the drive. Her gaze is different from her usual tense expression she wears at school or home. As my gaze flicks to her in the rearview, she’s giving the passing landscape that gentle speculative gaze that makes her look like the soft dawn again.

"Dude, we need to go and do something fun this Saturday." Josh says suddenly as I'm pulling into a parking spot at school. His voice makes all of jump.

I look pointedly at the rain, then back to him. "What do you propose, Josh? A stroll along the lake? Besides, we have a game."

He shakes his head. "Ass—I mean after the game. I want to go out. Saturday is supposed to be better. A party maybe?" He asks hopefully.

I think for a moment, tempted by being letting loose for a bit, but not looking forward to being surrounded by everyone I go to school with all night.

"Maybe," I say. "Last time we went to a party; I was sick for a week."

"That was no one’s fault but your own. You didn’t have to stick your tongue down—oof!" Josh breath leaves him entirely as I elbow him fiercely in the gut.

Iona looks at me sharply, mouth popping open in shock. “Excuse me?”

Absurdly my gaze flicks to Cassia. She’s looking from Josh to me to Iona and back again, expression perfectly blank, but there is a light shining in her eyes that is definitely amusement.

"You're such an asshole." Josh adds under his breath.

"I heard that." I mutter, opening my car door. I step out, ignoring my sister’s questions and popping up my collar against the cold. I jog towards the main school building, itching to be out of the icy rain. Cassia is already under safe cover, watching us approach. She’s fidgeting, tugging on her fingernails in the coat that makes her look even tinier than she is already.

That soft expression is gone again.

It’s really too bad. She looked so at peace.

She looks at me, but as soon as I catch her gaze, she looks away. It seems that she's holding on to her conviction that she's not good company. Well, like I told her before, I'll decide that for myself, thank you very much.

"We can go get Jets before we go. A good deep dish will put you in the mood to party. It always does." Josh bargains, jogging up to my side.

Iona hums in agreement. I’m sure it’s just for the pizza though, Jets in certainly Iona’s main weakness. To tell the truth, it’s everyone’s weakness. The pizza is just that good.

"Josh, you can’t tempt me with Jets. That’s just not fair at all—Can we please go inside? I’d rather not get soaked. Jezz." I hold a binder over my head, frowning. We have a few minutes before the bell rings, and I want to be inside where it’s warm.

"I don't get you; I love the rain." Josh mocks, then shakes his head rapidly, spraying us with the water that has gathered in his hair. We duck away and Iona squeals, holding up her hands against the flying drops.

Cassia, I see from the corner of my eye, looks at us and seems to be taking it all in like she is watching a movie. I've seen her doing this before, and sometimes I wonder if our interaction really is new to her.

She likes to observe. This is one thing I know for sure about her.

We chat for a bit more until the bell rings, and then I watch how Cassia takes a deep breath and seems to hold it for a long moment, before she nods to herself and takes off to class. I'm sure she knows the way by now, but it appears that Iona still feels the need to accompany Cassia to her classroom.

Standing there, watching my sister and Cassia walk away, I can’t help but think that there should be more that we could do for her. She needs to not just feel safe and comfortable but accepted. I'd like to take her somewhere special. I know chances are slim she'd actually go with me, but I'd love to take her somewhere sometime that puts a smile on her face. She never gets out of the house except for school or groceries with Auntie. I don't think Cassia has a driver's license, even.

I'll have to figure out what she likes to do. She's doing a good job in hiding that. It's almost like she is afraid to show us. That again brings me back to the question of what horrors she has been through before she was placed in our house.

During first break, Lola bounces up to me as I try to make my way to the quiet corner where we've been going to with Cassia this week.

I try to hide my annoyance as she blocks my path and stop myself from looking over her shoulder, where I can see Cassia standing with Iona.

Cassia is looking from Lola to me, her face carefully neutral as usual. Then Iona asks Cassia something and she turns to my sister to give her the attention she seeks. Again, it strikes me how Cassia seems to be infinitely giving, always. If you ask her attention, she will turn to you, whatever she is doing. But it's not just fear that motivates her to be that way. I think she is inherently caring.

She wants to have a connection with people, she’d do anything for it. Whether or not she can admit it to herself, she already cares deeply for a number of us.

I hope I’m one of them.

Or perhaps I am looking too much into this.

There's more to Cassia than to Lola at least, who is now trying to catch my gaze, looking slightly frustrated as she comes up on her tiptoes to reach my line of vision.

I look down at her and try to understand how I could ever have been dating this girl for months on end. The bit of feeling I had for her back then faded before I even broke up with her. I still feel a little bad though, I never meant to use her as I did.

"Hey, Declan!" Lola says. It sounds like she's looking for the right tone of voice to approach me, and in doing so, she fails, and her words come out absolutely flat.

"Lola. Hey."

"So, um, how are you?"

"I'm good," I say carefully, being careful not to sound too suspicious of this interaction. "You?"

"I'm okay," She says, looking lost.

The silence is beyond awkward. We are probably the most incompatible people on this planet.

"So, did you want anything? Or…" I trail off.

"Eh, no, just wanted to know how you were." She twirls a blonde lock around her finger, looking up at me expectantly.

I don't believe her for one second. Nor do I know what she wants from me.

"Okay. Well, we've established that I am, in fact, doing good, so if there's nothing else?"

"Well," Lola hedges, chewing her lip. God, it's just annoying when she does that. Not when Cassia does…because when Cassia does it means she's thinking of what she'll say.

Well, it means the same when Lola does it, but usually it's not all that interesting what comes out of her mouth then. With Cassia, it is. Well, not out of her mouth literally, of course but — her lips are–

Why am I thinking about Cassia biting her lip right now?

"How is Cassia doing?"

Lola's words are so sudden that I need a moment to process them.

"She's okay…" I frown. Glancing over her shoulder again, I see that Cassia is smiling slightly at Iona, who seems to be reenacting some kind of wild story.

"Why?"

"Oh, I was just curious, Declan." Lola says, but there's a sharp edge to her tone. She drops her hair and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Really." I deadpan. What is going on here?

"Yeah. Because she's been through a lot, you know…"

Oh, so this is where this is going. More snooping.

"She's okay. Anything else?" I don't have it in me to spend any more time with her. I'm so done with her, with her games. She always has a hidden agenda. Always spreading nastiness about anyone that she thought wasn’t good enough or was in her way of getting what she wanted.

"You can tell me, you know," Lola says. "Her secret is safe with me and I'm sure she could use some friends. A troubled girl like her? She just needs to feel normal."

I fight to hide the horror and rage that's threatening to show on my face.

"Her story is not mine to share," I reply through clenched teeth. "If Cassia needs friends, it's up to her to make them, not us. Don’t force yourself into her life, Lola."

I wish I could call her out on her behavior around Cassia in Spanish class, but I've not been there to witness it so I'm not even sure what happened. The fact that Cassia never has denied something happened and absolutely refuses the talk about it however is a clear enough sign to me that Lola has not been very nice to her.

"Jesus Declan, no need to be like this with me. After all that happened…" She's referring to our relationship. If you can call it that.

"Like what, Lola? How am I supposed to react after all that happened?" And I am referring to the fact that she told everybody I cheated on her, to the love notes she left, to the shitstorm she put me through simply because I didn't like her enough to keep up a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere.

She looks properly taken aback by that and bites her lip again. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her and wait until she speaks again.

"Okay. Um, I have to go." She skits away and I look after her, the surprise probably evident on my face still when I walk to the group. I honestly wasn’t expecting her to give in without a bitch fit. It’s very unlike her.

"What did she want?" Josh asks, looking over my shoulder to a Lola who now is in crisis meeting with Cate probably.

"Nothing." I shrug, not wanting to relay my conversation with Lola when Cassia is present. I'm pretty sure it'll freak her out when she hears somebody has been asking about her past.

"Hm. Yea, Okay." Josh nods, letting it go for now. But the way his smile doesn’t return to his face, lets me know that he and I will probably talk about this again later on.

God. Ex-girlfriends suck.

"Everything all right here?" I ask, looking at Iona before my gaze wanders to Cassia. She's looking at the floor, but if I compare her stance to last Monday, she's infinitely more relaxed. It looks like she's no longer in that half-aware state she was in earlier this week, and I think that is a good sign. From what I've seen and from what Iona told me, the teachers are okay around Cassia too, and I'm glad they're not giving her a hard time.

The poor girl has been through so much, I'm happy that for now at least school seems to be going relatively easy.

She's quiet today, though. Well—more so than usual. She's not making eye contact with us and she gives minimal answers to questions. Texts are involved and even Iona seems to feel that Cassia wants to be left alone.

I wonder if something happened to make her act like this, but perhaps she's just having an off day. We all have those, once in a while. I wonder if I can do something to cheer her up.

But what? I’d love to make her another playlist, but I’d hate for that to be the only thing that I can do for her. Seems kind of…lame. Although, music seems to be strangely therapeutic for her. Perhaps this is how I can connect to her? It’s easiest to talk to her when music is involved.

I wonder how she will react to the notion of therapy. How would that work, anyway? She can't really talk, can she? Would online therapy perhaps not be better for her? I mean, she can type. Maybe it's easier for her to write things down like that.

Maybe I should ask Nick about this.

I move through third and fourth period, making notes and trying not to yawn too much. I really should go to bed earlier, but I've been lying awake again last night, worrying.

At lunch, it's once more raining like a mofo and I rush to intercept Cassia at her Spanish classroom. When I round the corner, I see that Cassia is surrounded by two blond-haired girls.

Oh, for the love of all that's holy. Why can’t my girl catch a break?

I don't even want to listen to what they are saying. All I can see is that Cassia is looking highly uncomfortable and tense. I walk over to them to save her from the Bitch Club.

Cassia spots me first, looking up at me with wide eyes in a tired, pale face. Lola and Cate follow her gaze and turn their heads to look at me.

"Ready to go?" I ask Cassia, ignoring the other two. I hold my hand out, despite knowing that she won’t take it.

She nods quickly and moves to follow after me.

"If you keep hauling her away like that, she won't make any friends here, you know, Declan." Cate says suddenly, flipping her blonde hair over a shoulder.

I raise my eyebrows at her, but then Lola speaks.

"Or are you trying to hide her away?"

What the flying fuck?

Do I even respond to this?

I think fast. "I am not. Cassia, do you want to stay here, or do you want to come with me for lunch?"

Much to my relief, and also to my surprise, Cassia resolutely steps forward and away from Lola and Cate, firmly taking my outstretched hand in her own. She grip is strong despite the size of her fingers. Her skin is cool to the touch and soft, except where there are scabs. Unfortunately, there are a number of those.

I stare dumbly down at our clasped hands, realizing that the shaking is not from Cassia, but from me. My heart is doing something wild in my chest and honestly, my brain is straight up blank with shock.

She leads us down the hall, before pausing once we are out of Lola and Cate’s sight. My brain seems to start functioning right at this time and I use the brief moment of us pausing to tighten my hand around hers and take the lead to the cafeteria.

As we enter the loud room, I catch my sister’s gaze as we approach. Her eyes glance down at Cassia’s hand around mine and she raises her brows as if to say: “I told you so, butthead.”

But I can’t think about that right now.

Josh jumps up to get her a chair and Cassia sits down without hesitation, letting go of my hand, and smiling a little as Iona greets her enthusiastically.

Whatever Lola and Cate have been trying to achieve, it looks like they are not succeeding.

This makes me happy indeed. I shake out the hand that Cassia gripped, the skin tingling as if I had been electrocuted.

But at the same time, I worry. I am worried that Lola and Cate are trying to plant seeds of doubt into Cassia's mind. I just can't understand why they would try to make her feel unwanted by us.

I decide to bring it up to her when we are in Biology. We are once more working together on some assignment that is ridiculously easy, mostly because Cassia really knows her stuff. She does the majority of the exercise without blinking, despite my hovering as I try to help her.

I really wonder what she knows. I've seen her reading all those science books at home, the ones I never even thought of trying to comprehend, and yet she seems to be immersed in them completely. She's scarily good at math, and I wouldn't be surprised if she were proficient in languages too.

Yet, when it comes to social interaction, she sometimes seems to be lacking. Not because she acts antisocial, at least I think not because she does communicate if you ask her the right questions, but because she can look on and watch others with rapt attention and fascination. Especially when we are bantering. There is something in that she can't get enough of observing, it seems.

She's a spectator to life in so many ways.

However, we need to talk. I haven't even really apologized yet for the Brent Zeller incident. Thank fuck the guy didn't come over again, but the class isn’t over yet.

"Hey, Cassia?"

She looks up at me and not for the first time I see a flash of dread in her eyes before she masks her gaze and faces me fully, letting me know she's listening.

"So, ehm, sorry for yesterday. I shouldn't have spoken for you like that." I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, looking away to check to see where Mr. Banner is as he makes his rounds helping other students, but my gaze wanders back to her to see if she will respond.

Cassia frowns a little, then shrugs and looks down.

"No, I really am sorry. But I heard you'd said no before, and…"

She looks back up at me, and there are so many emotions in her eyes I can't begin to name them, but sadness seems to be the clearest one I can decipher.

"Anyway, I guess I feel a bit protective over you. I'm sorry, it was condescending of me." I look away in my petulance which is unfortunate since I can't see Cassia's reaction now. I can’t believe that I admitted that I was protective over her. That’s not something she wants to hear. Cassia values her independence more than anything, she doesn’t want me brooding over her like a dark cloud. Protection or no.

When I look back down at her after a long moment, Cassia has turned and is focusing on the lab assignment again. Despite her fixed gaze at the papers on the table, her hands don’t move to continue the project. She just stares, so still, so focused inwardly that I doubt she’d even react to a bomb going off right beside her.

"Cassia?"

She turns to me again, her face carefully neutral.

With an overwhelming sadness I realize that if I were to call her name fifty times, she would turn to me fifty times. I'm willing to bet money on it that not once would Cassia show me her frustration, which would undoubtedly start to grow. She's such an expert in hiding her feelings, but I know she has them.

In fact, I think—no I know–she's a very emotional person. She won’t allow herself to feel or show others what she's feeling. That night in the kitchen when she was crying and she let me stay, Cassia let me in to more than just her private moment. She let me into a part of her that wasn’t exposed to anyone else. Realizing this now, that night was huge for her. For me.

Iona's words drift back into my mind. Is my bond with Cassia really that different from the others?

Cassia holds my gaze and waits for what I'll do, and her tawny eyes pull me back into the present. A second later, one of her black brows flicks up just slightly.

I give her a slight grin in response. Her sass makes an appearance in the most bizarre of moments.

But—she is waiting for me to say something. Damn. What was I going to say again?

"Jess and Cate have made introductions, I see." I say incoherently, realizing too late we already discussed this on Monday, and she knows I know all that has happened already.

Nice one, Dec.

Cassia nods, obviously wondering where this is going. That brow quirks further.

"So, do they want to be your friends?"

She thinks for a long moment, either about the answer or about the fact if she should answer, I don't know. Then, slowly, she shakes her head, a calculating look on her face.

"They didn't?"

To my utter surprise, Cassia reaches over to my forgotten notebook and writes.

They say they want to be friends.

I look at the note, then invite her to go on with an enthusiastic nod. It takes her a long time to continue writing. I can't even comprehend how it would be if it were such a struggle to give words to others. What happened to make her like this?

But still–she writes.

I don't trust them.

This coming from Cassia is so exceptionally alien, since she obviously doesn't trust anyone, but I do think I know what she means. I must say I am happy to see these words because she is right, and it means she won't fall for her tricks. Her poor heart won’t get broken again by false friends.

I mean, Cassia’s not stupid. Of course, she would see right through any bullshit.

"Why don't you trust them?" I ask, just to keep the conversation going. Besides, it will look bad if I warn her away from them, especially after they implied, I was keeping Cassia away on purpose, albeit for different reasons.

Bad vibe. They're not honest.

But—they’re also not wrong. I won’t admit it out loud, but I would prefer to keep Cassia from the masses of stupid teenagers that make up our school.

She doesn't rat them out, though. It would have been so simple write down how they had been nasty with her because I know they have been. But she doesn't give me any real ammo against them.

That's… impressive.

"About what they said when I came to get you earlier… I hope you know that is not true." I say, tapping the edge of the notebook. I hope that she will keep writing.

The look on her face tells me she's not sure what I'm talking about.

"About us hiding you from others. I'd love to see you make friends besides us. Just be careful who you befriend, okay? Not everybody is nice." I almost sigh at myself, I sound so old.

Cassia does something that surprises the shit out of me. She snorts.

She snorts.

She actually makes a sound and it's a scoff in reply to my warning that not all people are nice. Cassia even rolls her eyes dramatically as she does it.

The “No shit, Declan.” Is plainly obvious.

I'm so shocked by her reaction that I throw my head back and laugh. Hard.

---

~O~

We finish Biology in silence, and I have to work hard to suppress chuckles every now and again when I remember Cassia's face in reaction to my laughing. She'd been incredulous and obviously not sure why exactly I had laughed so hard that the entire class, including Mr. Banner, had looked at us to see what was so funny.

Cassia had hidden behind her hair and focused on the assignment; her face so red I thought it might explode.

Of course, I realized way too late what her reaction actually meant. The nausea lasts until the end of class and I find it impossible to speak to her again.

I wouldn't know what to say. I should apologize. Even though it was funny, and she had cracked a smile in response to my laughter, the truth was plainly lain for me to see.

Was she warning me again, in her gentle way?

Crap.

After Biology Cassia lingers at her table, seemingly having trouble to get her books into her bag.

"Can I help? We have to go." I ask, a bit nervous to be honest because I have Spanish right now and I've been scolded before for being so late in class. If I come late again, I will get detention. When I tried to explain the teacher why I was late, she scoffed and told me that any new student was a big kid and would have to find their way around school by themselves.

Okay. Best to get to class in time then.

Cassia waves me away and fusses with her bag, her hair falling over her hands so I can't really see what she is doing.

"Can you find your way to your next class?" I ask. Come to think of it, I've never walked her from this class before. I'd guess she can find her way by now.

Cassia nods and gestures for me to go to Spanish already. I wave to her quickly and leave the classroom, not thinking about it anymore as I am still a few seconds late for Spanish and pretty sure that will mean detention on a Friday afternoon.

I'd rather not want that, actually.

I get lucky, Senora doesn’t notice me.

But I can’t get it out of my head that I should have lingered with Cassia.

---

~O~

When we get home, Cassia steals away to sleep. She has done this every day so far and I'm guessing that school is costing her a lot more energy than she lets on. I'm glad Auntie is forthcoming and as such Cassia often sleeps until Auntie calls her down to dinner.

In the meantime, Iona and I work on our homework on the dining room table. Both of us letting out deep sighs of frustration at the amount. Iona struggles over calculus and I dread over economics. Occasionally, we switch assignments when something gets too hard, Iona doing my political intrigue and I breeze through her math problems. We’ve been doing it since we were little, and now it’s a routine that both of us barely think about anymore. Only ever been caught once by Nick who lectured us for ages about ‘cheating’. Safe to say it was in one ear and out the other. Despite our subterfuge, it’s a long couple of hours.

Cassia then reappears, always a little rosy from sleep, her hair ruffled and her eyes tiny as she tries to wake up again. For some reason I feel the heat rise within my body at the sight and immediately stand when she enters the room all the way. Iona and Cassia both blink at me in surprise.

“Uh—Good morning sleepy! Wait. Good night—Evening.” I turn away and head into the kitchen, completely unsure what the hell just happened.

I hear Iona say something about how lame I am and then she begs Cassia to help her finish with her math homework.

It’s about ten minutes before I feel less idiotic enough to go back into the dining room. The girls look up at me but pay no mind as they both return to their homework. Well, seems I won’t be ridiculed. Thank god.

Cassia helps Iona and I watch through my lashes, in utter awe, as Cassia explains calc to Iona in a way that my sister gets. Where I would have huffed in frustration and just taken over for her, Cassia tries a different angle to make it clear patiently waiting for Iona to get at least two problems right before moving back to her own work.

I try to engage Cassia in conversation when Iona is finally working by herself, but it's stilted. She’s obviously is not in the mood to talk. I hope it's not because of my semi-inappropriate reaction in Biology.

Another thing I would have to apologize for, it seems. But I don't want to do that with everybody else around.

Cassia finishes first, silently restacking her books in a pile before shuffling into the kitchen to help Emmy with cooking dinner. She seems so content with the routine, the tension in her shoulders released enough where she can actually appear as relaxed, but we all know Cassia is fooling no one.

I finish my homework just as dinner is ready and Cassia shuffles away again holding a tray with food, up the stairs and to her room.

I wonder how that must be for her. To not be able to eat with others around and as such to be forced to eat in solitude. Does it bother her? I already know she won't just eat if you ask her. It's like the one thing I've found so far, she won't do when asked. Yet when I made her a sandwich and kind of made her feel like I was ignoring her, she ate.

Has she eaten with anybody else yet? Yes, with Auntie, I know. And I could have sworn I saw her popping popcorn into her mouth the other night.

But with anybody else?

I'm pretty sure she hasn't.

She’s solitary and seems to enjoy the quiet. I should respect that.

However, I find myself knocking at her door, not five minutes after we've all gone upstairs to get ready for bed. Cassia doesn't respond even though I know she is in her room.

Sighing, I push away from trudge back down the hall to my room where I shower quickly and collapse in bed. I have to respect her wishes and her boundaries. I have to tell myself this over and over, despite the fact I’d rather be spending my sleepless night in her quiet presence.

Staring in the dark, I know I won't be able to sleep. Too much is happening, and I don't even know what it all is, let alone put my finger on it to label it. Iona's words haunt through my memory, but in all honesty, I don't think that what Cassia and I have is all that special.

Besides, it's obvious she is pushing me away.

Best to step back then until she has sorted out what she is struggling with.

Sighing, I turn to my stomach, punching my pillow into a more comfortable position. I can feel my recent nightly adventures catching up with me as a yawn threatens to crack my jaw in two and my eyes slide shut.

It feels like seconds later when my alarm blares at me to wake up and the noises coming from around the house filter through my morning haze.

The dream I had been having lingers at the corners of my consciousness. My waking mind not willing to let it go. It had been so warm, like a summer day at the beach. The tinkling sound of a light laugh still playing with my eardrums. Heavenly and girlish, echoing the playful way a hand had clenched mine.

What had we been doing? This nameless girl and I? Blinking a few more times brought me fully to consciousness and the dream vanished. Getting all the way up, I drowsily started my morning routine, hearing Iona singing along to her morning playlist as usual. A soft step passed my door letting me know that Cassia was making her way downstairs for breakfast.

I carelessly style my hair and brush my teeth, scooping up the first pair of clean dark jeans and a t-shirt that I can find. As I step out into the hallway, bag slug over my shoulder a sudden still of my dream comes back to me.

A girl. Facing away from me but laughing freely as she lead me down a city street teaming with all sorts of lights, long hair streaming down her body obscuring anything else that may identify who she might have been.

Huh. I usually don't prefer brunettes.

---

~O~

Winter seems to have started overnight. A cold front has settled over Willow Hills and temperature has dropped significantly. I shove my hands in my pockets when we arrive in the parking lot, seeing my breath escape in white puffs.

"Damn," Josh mutters, rubbing his hands together. "What the hell? It’s fucking freezing."

Iona walks up to him and wraps her arms around him, shivering dramatically as she snuggles her head in the crook of his neck.

"Even your hair is cold," He complains, pushing Iona away slightly so her midnight curls can’t reach the skin of his face anymore but he's laughing, and we move along.

Cassia seems even smaller than usual in her too-big coat, folded into herself in defense against the cold.

She's from Los Angeles — she must be used to heat and sun. It's obvious she is not built for this weather and she looks miserable even though she tries to hide it.

Hell, I think I can even see a blue hue to her lips. She’s very obviously trying to conceal her shivering.

This will not do. I know I have another pullover in the trunk of my car—the blue one that she’s already worn actually—but I doubt that she would take it.

I really wish she would. Those shivers are killing me.

I take the lead and guide her into the school well before the bell rings and take her to a spot near a wall with a heater. She smiles gratefully, and huddles in close to the vent. Slowly, she warms up until some color comes back into her cheeks again.

But she's stressed. Cassia’s eyes are empty and haunted, and her lip is chapped from chewing on it obsessively. Did she sleep at all last night?

I frown a little, concerned by her obvious tension.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask softly, barely heard over the thrum of the other students. I reach out a hand to touch her arm gently to grab her attention.

She looks at me for a long time and I swear I can see some sort of longing in her eyes, but then the veil comes down again and she shakes her head, looking down as she steps back a little. Out of reach, my hand falls limply back to my side.

The bell rings, giving me no other chance than to let her go as she walks off with Iona and Josh to her first class.

During first break, she is much the same and I meet gazes with Iona several times. She's noticed it too.

In lunch, still the same. Although a little worse. She’s extra fidgety, and the way she wrings her hands in her lap looks painful. I get anxious just by looking at Cassia and something is up, I can feel it. But if she doesn't talk about it, there is little I can do.

There's a coil of nerves in my stomach and I don't know what to do with it. The tension rolls off of Cassia in waves, but she doesn't want to tell me about it, or Iona for that matter.

When I ask her in Biology, she denies that something is wrong.

"I can tell you are tense, Cassia. What's wrong?" I insist, but her reply is short and for the first time, I sense irritation in her communication because she starts to sign at me again, before realizing midway through that I don’t understand. With a silent huff, she writes quickly in my notebook. The scratch of her pen quick and brutal.

Nothing. Leave it. Please.

The fact that I need to leave it tells me that there is indeed something wrong, but she asked me to let it go, all I can do is obey.

At the end of class, the asshat Brent Zeller saunters over to our table.

"So, Cassia," He says slowly, probably attempting to smile down at her but it's almost a leer. "Don't you have Gym class now?"

I halt in my movements, hearing something in his words I am not sure about. The tone is too arrogant, but in a way that makes it sound almost alluring. If he were anyone but Brent, I’m sure it would be. Beside me, Cassia freezes up completely as she looks up at Brent with wide eyes.

"Why don't I walk with you? Since it seems you haven't been able to find it before?"

I blink as something clicks. I turn to the girl beside me, frowning in confusion. Cassia has not been to Gym. Her lingering in this class for every day of this week, making sure I would not know where she would go, finally makes sense.

Why doesn't she want to go to Gym?

Why would she pull this kind of deception? Why not just tell me? Hell, I would suffer through a few detentions with her if she wanted to skip. Iona too. Josh would skip the whole day if anyone asked. So why would she keep this from us?

I’m hit with a strange feeling of betrayal deep in my gut. Cassia still doesn’t trust me. Not even a little bit.

So much for Iona’s theory.

But it’s not anger that makes me shift uncomfortably, its understanding. She may be feeling more comfortable around me, sure, but I have to do more for her to trust me.

Why does it seem like the most important thing in the world? I’m—I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I know that Cassia needs more than just a lame protector.

She needs a friend to back her up.

"Come on," Brent says. "I have Gym too now. Let's walk together so I can show you the way."

I swallow harshly and see Cassia get up, her movements rigid. I don't think she is breathing at all.

I wish I could do something but how can I stop Brent if he has the same class as Cassia? With what reason other than 'Cassia is scared' could I send Brent away? Besides, Cassia wouldn't want others to know of her fears. If I would use that argument, I'd betray her trust in a horrible way.

So, I watch helplessly as Brent guides Cassia out of the classroom. My brain is scrambling for something, anything, to say that would bring her back to my side. It feels so very wrong to let her go like that, but I honestly don't know what I could do about it. My jaw is locked in anger and the sudden urge to punch something overtakes me enough that I have to pause out in the hallway to take a deep breath.

In my next class, I am anxious, pent up. Cassia has skipped Gym this entire week and she hasn't told us why. Going to Gym obviously stressed her out beyond belief and now I have let her go with the biggest douchebag that walks around in this school.

I should punch my damn self.

This jittery anxiety is why I'm not even that surprised when I get a text from Iona, twenty minutes into class.

911 - Come to the gym. Now. Now. Now. Something wrong with Cassia.

I look at my Spanish teacher, who is working behind her desk as we are supposed to work on an assignment. I know she won't agree with me going, but I have to. There’s no way anything can keep me from going to that gym right now.

I pack my bag quickly, not really expecting to come back here this period, and walk up to her desk. "I'm sorry Senora Gomez, there is an emergency regarding Cassia. I have to go."

She looks up at me with stern eyes. "And how you do you know of this emergency?" She asks lowly.

"I got a text." I admit, confessing I have been checking my phone during class. Honestly, why does this even matter. ‘Emergency’ means ‘move your ass’.

"What is this emergency?" Senora Gomez asks, and I can feel the seconds tick away as she is trying to verify my story.

"I don't know, Senora, but my sister texted me and I really think I should go to the gym now." I shift from foot to foot, preparing to bolt out of the class. Come on.

The moment she takes to try and make me break, seems to take forever. She’s trying to call my bluff. Goddammit I don’t have time for this.

Finally, I break the silence. "Senora, I am going. You can put me in detention for this, I don't care. But I need to go to Cassia now. She needs me."

I don't even wait for an answer before turning to leave the classroom. I honestly don't care if I get detention for this. It will be worth it if it means I can go help Cassia now, because obviously that is infinitely more important than a Spanish class I can do with my eyes closed.

Speeding through the empty hallways, I arrive at the gym quickly. I have no clue where Cassia is, so I decide to enter the Gym through the guy's locker room.

Only a few people there, mostly guys, and no teacher. The atmosphere is decidedly tense. A few guys on the team nod at me, but I’m too busy moving through to really give a proper greeting.

I move on into the gym.

"Cassia is in there." Somebody points into the direction of the girl's locker room. A lanky girl who I recognize from the cheer squad.

I jog over there, but hesitate before I peer inside the open door, knocking loudly on the doorpost to make my presence known. “Iona?”

I mean, come on, it's the girls locker room. I can’t just storm it.

"Declan! Come here. Now!" Iona calls out through the door. I’m inside before she has a chance to finish the sentence. Over the thrum of girls that are crowded in the corner of a room, I can hear her voice soften. I assume she’s talking to Cassia.

I push my way through the mass of girls all of whom are not moving an inch to let me pass.

"Come on. Move it." I snap when a brown hand reaches out and pulls me through the throng of girls. Tatiana. She’s got an expression on her face I’ve never seen before. Fierce and protective. She and Marissa stand like sentinels in front of the crowd of girls. Marissa frowning so hard as she barks something about throwing hands with the next girl that steps any closer.

“Over here. I tried to help, but we had to grab Iona. I—I wasn’t sure what to do.” Tati’s voice was a hundred times softer than her expression and she continued to lead me to the back of the locker room. I nodded sagely, prepared to thank her when I spot Iona next to a tiny shadow tucked into the corner of the lockers.

Cassia sits, huddled on the floor, hiding her head in her arms, completely rigid. I don't even have to ask if she is shut down, because I am pretty sure she is. She’s shaking so hard, I’m sure I can hear her bones rattling.

My heart threatens to shiver up in my chest. It hurts, a physical pain, to see her like this. Cassia is so scared, the little huffs I’m hearing is her hyperventilating.

Good god. What happened? Who did this to her?

Carefully, I drop my bag and move to stand as close as I can to Cassia. I don’t want to alarm her, so I move very slowly.

At that moment, Coach Gell seems to finally come to his senses. "Everybody out!" He calls authoritatively. I’m beyond pissed that he allowed them all the stay in here and watch the show, I’m there will be gossip tomorrow from the way all the girls reluctantly, and very, very slowly, move out of the room.

That rage comes out of nowhere again as I glare down at Coach—but Marissa’s form appearing in from of me stops me from yelling out anything profane. “It’s not his fault.” She warns, and I turn away with a nod. Later then.

Tatiana lingers by her girlfriend’s side. "Call me if you need anything. We’ll stay by the door okay?" She says softly to Iona, who is crouched down in front of Cassia, coming as close as possible without touching her.

Iona nods and the three girls exchange looks before Tatiana and Marissa disappear as well. As they walk out of the locker room, the Coach comes back.

"I'm lost here. You guys best call your Aunt." He says gruffly, rubbing at his baseball cap.

"I already did that." Iona says, not looking away from Cassia. After a moment, she does look up. "Do you have any idea what happened?"

Coach Gell shakes his head, looking lost. "No idea. The girls were late to come out of the room and a student came to get me. When I came to check, they were all… hovering. I found Cassia like this. She's completely unresponsive."

"This happened before. Our Aunt should be here in about twenty minutes." Iona says. It’s almost odd to hear her sound so serious—so adult. She sounds like—me. I never realized how eerily similar our voices are. Iona’s normal pitch is so much more graceful than my deeper rasp. "Is it okay if we wait here with Cassia?"

"Shouldn't she be brought to the nurse's office? I can carry her there."

"No," I say, fiercer than I want to. "Don't touch her. She's not to be moved right now."

The Coach quirks an eyebrow at my tone, and he has a right to.

"I'm sorry," I amend immediately. The last thing I want is to be sent away from Cassia’s side. I crouch down, right next to Iona, and as close as I can get to the tiny shivering mess. I want so desperately to reach out and touch her, to let her know that I won’t leave her, but I know touching her will only make it worse.

"Very well. You know her, so I will assume you know best for now. Let me know when your Aunt arrives. I have to go and give class now."

"We'll get you." Iona smiles, that lovely smile where people would let her get away with murder in a heartbeat, and coach Gell leaves. We are left with a rigid Cassia who is locked inside her own mind with only her fears as company.

"Cassia?" Iona asks softly as she scoots a tiny bit closer. "We're here. Declan and I are here. Everybody else left. Nothing will happen. Auntie will come soon, and you can go home."

No response.

This time I try. "I know you can hear me where you are. Listen, I'm sure that you shut down for a reason and nobody will think less of you that you did it. You’re safe, Cassia. We—I’ll protect you."

A pause, and Iona looks up at me with big eyes that are filled to the brim with tears and worry. We use our twin telepathy to have a quick conversation and then we switch spots, Iona protecting the door and me closest to Cassia, as we both decide to have me take over trying to bring Cassia back to us. I don't know if I can do much good, but I can try.

"Why didn't you tell us you didn't want to go to Gym?" I ask softly, careful to keep any judgmental tone out of my voice because I'm not judging. Truly, it’s an awful class.

Iona's head snaps around to look at me. This knowledge is new for her, too.

"You should have said something, saved yourself this stress. You know you can come to us with these things, right? We gotta keep you safe, sweetheart. That means even from stress." Crap, it's hard to talk with a Cassia who's only nodding or shaking her head but talking to a Cassia who's absolutely giving no response at all is damn near impossible.

I just want to know that she knows I’m here next to her.

"What happened? Did Brent do something stupid?" It's a wild guess. But apparently, I’m on the nose and bile rises in my throat when her entire body convulses in a terrible shiver. I reach out reflexively worried that she’s going to snap herself into a bunch of tiny pieces. My hand brushes her shoulder and Cassia folds up her body tighter, wrapping her arms around her waist with more force.

"Oh my God." I mouth, meeting gazes with an utterly shocked Iona.

We both know. We know. We just never said it out loud, afraid to admit it. The trauma. Iona and I both know what happened to her in the past now.

I swallow thickly but find I cannot speak for a moment; my jaw is so tense. I’m going to kick Brent Zeller’s ass.

Iona, always the stronger one, takes over. "You're safe now, Cassia. You're with us. If Gym stresses you out like this, I'm sure we can find a way to get you out of it."

No response.

"Auntie is coming soon. She'll take you home, and there you can come out again when you feel like it. She won't be angry or anything." I promise, although my voice sounds strange. Iona’s fingers lace with mine, her grip strong enough to stop the circulation in my fingers, but I find I’m holding onto her just as tight.

No response.

We are adrift, us three, struggling to find our way out, but completely lost. Iona’s hand in mine is the only sensation that makes any sense right now. Her touch is what makes me do another stupid thing.

I reach out towards Cassia again, dropping my hand on the ground where I know she can see it. Iona’s hand tightens around my own and I almost make a sound at the pain but remain silent. Waiting.

We are adrift, us three, but Iona’s hand has me grounded. I want to be that for Cassia, but she has to do it. She has to trust me to lead her out. It’s so, so hard for her.

But I’d wait forever for Cassia to take my hand.

"Hang in there," I say after a long pause. "We're not going anywhere."

Cassia shivers intensely again, but at the end of it her hand drops down onto mine. I can’t help the noise I make at the contact, and Iona’s glance has fire going across my cheeks, but immediately, I flip my hand palm up. Cassia’s fingers lace gently through mine. Her hand is so cold and shaking terribly, but her grip tightens with each passing moment.

I let my thumb trace a small patch of the back of her hand. I don’t know if it’s for me or for her, but it feels good, and Cassia’s shivers ease.

After many more minutes of softly spoken reassurances and tense silences, we hear some ruckus and then Auntie bounds into the locker room, flustered and beyond worried.

"Cassia?" She asks.

Before we can get up, she's kneeling down next to us. She pauses momentarily at how the three of us are all holding hands but remains silent. Auntie’s gaze flicks, worried, at Cassia before going to us for explanation. Iona quickly relays what she knows of the story.

"She's still here though. Completely aware" I add. I shake our clasped hands as proof. Cassia’s grip goes as tight as Iona’s, almost as if she’s afraid I’m going to let go. I squeeze back twice, hopefully passing along the message that I’m not going anywhere. "I said something about Brent, and she reacted. Ah, reacted poorly that is."

Auntie nods slowly, taking in this information. She doesn’t miss the meaningful look that Iona and I exchange, instead she merely shakes her head. Now is not the time nor the place to discuss what we have figured out. But holy hell is that going to be a conversation.

She turns to Cassia slowly. "Cassia, honey, can you hear me? I'm here now. Shall I take you home? Don't worry, I'm not angry."

"I'll go get Coach Gell." Iona says softly as she gets up and releases my hand. "I'll wait for a bit to bring him back though."

I nod and Iona slips quietly from the room.

"I think Cassia skipped Gym until today," I say softly. I don't want to betray Cassia, but Auntie has to know. Another firm squeeze on my hand, and I do the same back gently. "Then Brent Zeller came to walk her to class, but she was already so tense, Auntie. I should have said something. I wish I had stopped him."

"You couldn't know," Auntie says softly. She looks back to Cassia. "Don't worry about Gym, sweetheart. You don't have to do this. I should have known you wouldn't want to do this. It's all right. Don't worry about this class. You were right by not going. I've failed you once more. But we'll fix this. We'll work it out. You're safe now."

No response, but somehow the tension in her body seems to lessen a tiny bit. Her grip on my hand stays strong.

"Do you hear me Cassia? You are safe now. No need any more to shut us out like this. I'm not angry, nor will Nick be. I promise. Shall we count?”

She waits a beat. Cassia’s trembles slow to a stop. “One, you're okay. Two, you're in the locker room…"

Auntie trails off as she stretches her hand out over the floor towards a completely unresponsive Cassia, in a clear, desperate way to get closer to a girl that can't stand to be touched, but wants to so much as is evident by the way she holds my hand.

"Let us in," Auntie whispers, and her voice breaks. "Please let us help you."

Infinitely slowly, Cassia moves her other hand away from her body, keeping her face hidden behind her hair and her knees. The hand that moves descends, hesitantly, almost reluctantly, until it touches the floor not an inch away from Auntie's hand.

After what seems like an eternity, Cassia's hand slides forward and touches Auntie's. When Auntie slowly, carefully moves her hand to make it easier for Cassia to touch, Cassia's hand moves along almost as if naturally and then all of a sudden they are gripping hands, Cassia's fingers turning white with the force she is using to hold on to my Aunt, matching the grip she’s got on me.

Cassia squeezes my hand twice, I notice that she doesn’t squeeze Auntie’s, just mine.

I feel like a sap, but I have a lump in my throat as I squeeze her hand twice back.

I’m here.

I’m not leaving.

And from the corner of my eye, I can see the tears fall from my Aunt’s eyes.

(Hi yes, permission to chop off Brent's dick and make him eat it?)

(I would like to second the motion.)

Warmth.

Touch.

Heart crashing.

Touch.

Touching. Me.

They’re touching me.

Or I them. I—I think I initiated.

Neither of them pulled back.

Contact.

Words being spoken, but I cannot hear. Don’t understand anything over the anxious hum clanging around within the confines of my mind. Overloaded, right now there is only one thing, one sense that registers, the warmth of their skin.

But—

He’s touching me. Declan. That thought flows within the hum. Twisting and forcing its way to the front of my mind. His hand is like fire in mine and every time he squeezes to let me know he’s still there, he’s not going anywhere, the need to squeeze back is almost unbearable.

But I can’t move.

I’m—

I’m so sorry.

And then…Emmy.

Her voice calm, soothing. Promising and reassuring. Just gentle tones.

I have to move, I know. Get up and get out.

I know.

Give me a minute.

Gripping her hand. Her skin on mine, the contact I've craved. One second more, I don't want to let go.

"I'm here, Cassia. You're safe. Can you get up? Let's go home, okay?"

Yes. Home.

But, to move. How to move.

Moving means letting go.

I can’t. I can’t do that. Please don’t make me.

Please don’t leave.

My arm moves, shifted slightly as my grip is gently eased away from a hand. Through the mist I see Emmy getting up.

I blink once, twice, and then a third time. The room around me slowly coming into focus. It’s so droll, bland, colorless….lifeless. It almost sends me into a panic again as I search for something—anything—that looks alive.

Please.

My wild gaze freezes on a shocking shade of blue. Declan. He’s staring at me, gaze as intense as an azure flame. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear the words. With a gentle tug of his hand the intent is clear. He wants to help me up.

Okay. I can do that.

Slowly I stand, hanging onto his gaze and the soft smile Declan is giving me like a lifeline. The hum in my mind in receding and I use it to wish fervently that they take me back home. Something moves out of the corner of my eye, another hand reaching for me, causing me to flinch so hard I stumble into Declan, who automatically goes to catch me. His free hand coming to rest on the small of my back. It’s too much, this is all too much and I flinch away again, a wild gasp coming through my clenched teeth.

I remember. Brent, walking with me. His hand on my lower back, making small circles that travelled a bit too far. His mouth too close to my ear. Talking, I don't remember the words. But his breath is hot and smells faintly of overly sweet gum. Then Gym. Too crowded in the locker room. Undressing.

I can't.

I can't.

Panic.

A low wheeze makes it way out of my mouth and my body starts to sink back towards the floor. Emmy is immediately in front of me, more kind words flooding out of her mouth. Her hands rest just beneath my elbows, not quite touching me, but keeping me from moving further down as her own blue gaze desperately clings to mine.

Please. Please take me away. Take me home.

She nods, apparently understanding my silence. Gently, but with a firmness that left no room for any kind of resistance, Emmy lead me through the locker room and back out into the school hallways.

The long rows of stark white were mercilessly quite as we walked, but the few people that happened to be milling about got a sharp bark from Declan or Iona. Seems they were my sentinels once more.

How will I ever begin to repay them?

Then a car ride. Near silent. Or maybe I still can’t hear what’s being said around me. Emmy’s fists are tight on the wheel. Declan is gesturing aggressively in the front seat, face set in a ferocious snarl. He’s so angry. I really hope it’s not at me. Iona is glaring out the window her own lips moving harshly as she adds to the conversation.

I have no energy to tune in. Instead I turn my gaze towards the wall of green that the trees have become as we speed past them.

Before long I’m standing in the hallway just passed the front door, numbly shucking off my coat.

Can I sleep now? I just want to disappear.

"Do you want to talk about it? Tell me what happened?" Emmy’s comes from my left. I have the feeling that she has been standing there for a while, talking to me. My brain just happened to finally tune in.

I can't react. Can't reply. I'm not ready. Please don't hurt me. I am sorry.

"Cassia?"

No, I can't.

The silence stretches between us almost becoming uncomfortable.

Finally, a sigh from the woman beside me. "Okay. Go and make yourself comfortable, and when you are ready, come find me."

I am alone in the hallway. Fighting to see through the fog in my head, I go to my room, locking the door behind me.

I don't even make it to the rocking chair. Fall to my knees at the foot of the bed and cry.

---

Hiccupping still with the force of my breakdown, I don't hear the knocks on my door at first.

"Cassia? Please open the door. Cassia?"

I can't move yet. It's a miracle in itself I can hear Emmy talking right now. See my hands wringing in my lap, feel the burning in my legs as I have been kneeling down for so long.

"Let me in?"

Those words. She used them before. In the locker room. Why?

"Please, Cassia. Let me help you."

I can't move, and if I don't get up, she will go.

But I don't want her to go.

If only I could let her know to wait for me, please to wait for me. Have patience. I am trying.

Without my involvement my stiff legs unfold forcing me up into a wobbly stand, joints feeling as if sand has been rubbed into them.

The door. My hands tremble so badly I can't open the lock at first. It rattles, and for once I hope Emmy hears. Me. Hears me.

When I finally manage to open the door, I look up in Emmy's ashen face. She looks worried, tired.

That is my fault.

Always, always my fault.

"Can I come in?"

I step back, giving her space to enter my room. She looks around and as I follow her gaze, I see what she sees.

It's tidy. Not a thing out of place, I live here like I will have to leave any minute. The room is not mine. It has been given to me until I leave. Even the decorations that we put up together look so carefully placed, as if this room has been staged to look like someone is living in it. That someone being the terrible ghost girl in the mirror.

Emmy sits down carefully on the tidily made bed. Pats the spot next to her, but I can't move. Breath still rattling, I look at her through swollen, burning eyes.

"What happened today?" Her voice so soft I can barely hear it over the incessant ringing in my ears. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Where to start, and where to end. How to tell her what is bothering me? What can I tell her, when will the anger come? I can't ask her to let me keep skipping gym indefinitely, right? Emmy waits, the silence moving between us in heavy swirls.

"Can I tell you what I think happened?" She asks looking between me and her own hands that are folding and unfolding in her lap.

I swallow, my throat dry as sandpaper. With not eating comes not drinking, and sometimes that has consequences. Ouch.

"I think you don't want to go to Gym, am I right?"

Unable to nod, I can't deny the truth in her words. Besides, I believe that knowledge was settled.

"Are you afraid of being touched when in Gym class?"

Oh Lord, I hadn't even thought of that. I never got that far. Great. Just great. Another thing to worry about.

"Or are you unwilling to undress and change around others?"

Her words hit home like a sharp knife, and I crumble, my body folding into itself as I cannot hide my reaction to her words.

"Oh honey," Emmy whispers, leaning forward and stretching out her arm to me, reaching out but not coming near.

I take gasping breaths as I try to keep the hyperventilation under control, but I feel so miserable, and so lost. Alone. My knees give way and I sink to the ground once more as Emmy's words repeat themselves time and time again in my head. And then they travel further, and I realize as if for the first time, again, that she knows. She knows it all.

"Cassia." Emmy's voice breaks as she gets up and kneels close to me on the floor. When I meet her gaze, hazy with my tear filled eyes, I see that she is crying too. "You can talk to us about this. You don't have to do this alone."

Oh, but I do. I've always been alone. It doesn't matter how many times the James family has reassured me that they will help me, are here for me. In the end, I'm the one that has to bear the burden of my life.

Emmy reaches her hand out, tentatively, seeking the contact I so boldly took earlier. But I can't. I don't deserve it. So I shake my head, my entire body trembling with the force I have to use to deny myself what I so truly, dearly want.

"Whenever you want," Emmy whispers shakily. "Whenever you are ready. I'm here, Cassia. I'm here for you."

For some reason that makes me even more miserable and a sob wracks through my body as I'm shaking with the desire to just be held by her. But my body won't move, and my mind is blocking me, afraid of the pain as much as the rejection.

"You don't have to go to Gym," Emmy says after long minutes. "I'll make very sure you never have to go again."

The relief is palpable, so I cry harder. Obviously.

Long moments pass and outside twilight sets in.

"Cassia, I have to ask," Emmy then says after clearing her throat almost nervously. "Declan thought that something might have happened with Brent…"

I freeze, the only sound in the room my ragged breathing.

"What happened, Cassia? Did he touch you?" Emmy’s voice is hardening. I don’t think she realize that it is happening, but it hits me like a tidal wave. I jerk away, shuddering. She makes it sound like Brent touched me as William had, when in truth it wasn’t nearly the same. My reaction to this entire situation wasn’t helping in the slightest, I know this, but I can’t….I don’t know how to make this all go away. I don’t know how to be normal.

"Inappropriately?"

I shake my head now, suddenly understanding where this is going. Even though I dislike Brent with a fiery passion, I am not stupid. What he did was not wrong in normal terms.

"Cassia, where did he touch you? I have to know." Her voice is hard as stone now, almost commanding. I lift a stiff arm and reach towards the small of my back.

"Just your lower back?"

I nod, my eyes still closed with the force of my breathing and my hammering heartbeat. There’s no need to mention Brent’s travelling, searching, fingers.

Emmy exhales. "Are you sure? You can tell me if something else happened."

I shake my head. Nothing else except from all the bullshit he kept spewing into my ear about how he'd noticed me right away and how I seemed like such a nice girl, and how he would like to get to know me better and…

Bile rises and I sprint towards the bathroom where I vomit my guts out since there is nothing in my stomach that my body can purge.

I hear Emmy behind me, and as always, I know that she understands all my unspoken words.

---

I stay in my room, too exhausted to come down. Emmy reassures me that it's okay to stay here, but she also tells me that she'll be back with Nick later. She tells me he won't be angry, but I am too tired to worry too much.

I feel like a train wreck.

A week in school has built up to this. I'm pretty sure they won't allow me to go back now.

Curled up in my rocking chair, it's Iona who comes up to bring me dinner.

I eye the tray she is holding wearily, not feeling fit enough to eat.

"Auntie said, if you manage to eat half, it's okay. But you have to eat, Cassia," Iona pleads. "You must be exhausted."

She puts the tray on my desk and then walks back to the chair, where I am huddled under Jackie’s quilt, shivering with a cold that won't seem to leave my body. She kneels so that she is not towering over me. Her gaze soft and worried. "Are you better now? I hope Auntie makes sure you won't have to go to Gym again."

I nod to answer both of her questions. The smell of the food is filling the room, making my tired stomach coil in protest.

"I'm so sorry you panicked," Iona continues softly. "Just take it easy, okay? Come find me later if you want to do something fun for distraction." She slips from the room and I look over the back of the rocking chair, eyeing the steaming food on the tray with disdain.

I have to eat. I've been losing even more weight over this week. Not that I've seen any scales, but my clothes are getting bigger and bigger on my body. And I'm pretty sure that Nick will be true to his word and make me take the fluid food again to regain strength.

It's the fear of that which makes me eat about half of the meal, before my stomach churns uncomfortably, letting me know it's quite enough. I know I have to bring the tray back down, but I can hear everybody downstairs, and I really don't have the energy to face them right now. If it were up to me, I'd disappear right here and now.

Too bad I can't. Even I know that running away is not an option.

Not that I would. If I am truly being honest with myself, I’ve come to feel safe in this room, it’s a den I can escape to now.

At around eight o'clock, I hear a knock on my door.

"Cassia? It's us, Nick and I. Will you let us in?" Emmy. She speaks softly, as if thinking I may already be asleep. Damn. That would have been a great way to put an end to this day early.
Swallowing, I get up to face them, unlocking the door and looking up at my foster family.

"Hi," Emmy smiles, relief for some reason evident on her face.

I focus on Nick however, trying to read his face, figure out if he is angry or not. His face is neutral, so perhaps he's not. Or not yet.

"We'd like to talk to you about something, can we come in?"

Panic flares. What do they want, coming together to my room?

"Don't worry," Nick says. "No need to be afraid. We just want to talk about what happened today and run something by you."

That sounds… ominous.

"Would you rather go somewhere else? The library, perhaps?" Emmy asks.

From downstairs, Josh’s boisterous laughter sounds. If we go downstairs, I'll have to face them, and I don't want that. Best to do it here then. I suppress a frown as I stand back and let them both into my room. Nick turns to close the door a bit, leaving it ajar, much to my surprise and relief.

"Why don't we sit down?" Emmy asks and she pulls the desk chair towards the bed. Nicks gets comfortable in the rocking chair and I keep standing, unsure what to do.
"Come sit here," Emmy points at the desk chair. "Is it okay if I sit on your bed?"

I nod and walk around them. But — oh, shit, now they are between the door and me. I can't run if I want to. Did they do this on purpose? I decide to be careful and brace myself, just in case.

"Please have a seat," Emmy coaxes, and as she sinks down on the bed, I copy her and sit down as well.

"First of all, let me assure you that you won't have to go to Gym again. You will probably have to do an alternate assignment, but there is no chance that you will have to join in that class," Emmy starts.

I exhale quietly, infinitely relieved about this.

"Also, we want to stress the fact that you can come to us with these things, Cassia. I can't imagine how much stress this must have cost you. We are not angry about this. We would not have been if you had come to us beforehand. We disapprove of you skipping classes, but we understand you had good reason to do so."

"We are learning here, as are you," Nick continues, leaning forward a bit. "If in the future there is something you feel you can't do for whatever reason, please come find us before you move to measures that could in fact give you a bad record in school."

He knows these words will hit me the most. I need school, I can’t afford to have my record tarnished.

"We will explain to the teacher and the principal that you cannot attend Gym class and we will make sure your individual education plan is adjusted."

I nod in understanding.

"I am curious, however. How did you manage this in Los Angeles? Did you do Gym there?" Nick asks, sound a bit more than baffled.

I shake my head slowly. I just never went, and because the school was big and poorly organized, nobody ever noticed. At least I was never called out on it. Nor was my school record ever effected negatively.

"You skipped?" Emmy asks softly, and I nod again adding a quick shrug to show that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

"Apparently it was a rather large school that she went to," Nick muses to Emmy. He puts a casual hand on her knee, preventing her from saying anything else on the matter. "Perhaps she was able to fly under the radar there more easily. Now, Cassia, if there is anything else you think we should know… now you know we really won't be upset — is there anything else?" Nick’s voice is infinitely patient.

I shake my head because truly, there isn't. Both of them give me a long look and I know they are referring to Brent, but I can’t move, can’t—won’t—say a word.

"Okay, okay…do you think you will be able to go back to school?" Nick asks finally breaking the silence. I think for a moment, worrying about the looks of students. They all saw me crashing down, and the gossip will explode. But it will also die down again, and everyone will soon forget the quiet weird girl. Yes, I want to go to school. So I nod.

"We trust your judgment on this. You're the one that knows best how you feel," Emmy says kindly. "But we ask that you consider carefully. We will not think less of you if you decide you want another form of education."

I shake my head harshly. I know what I want.

Yet another silence falls, and I wait for what is to come.

"Cassia, there is something else we wanted to discuss with you." Emmy and Nick look at each other for a moment, before Nicks its forward, leaning his forearms on his knees.

I tense up because conversations like these are not likely to go easy on me.

"We have been thinking about therapy for you."

I blink at Nick, stunned. Why–? Why would he say something like that?

"Perhaps not immediately, because we want to give you time to get used to the idea, but we really think that therapy would benefit you."

I am so surprised and upset by the notion of therapy without Jackie and the fact that Nick thinks I would need it, that I sit back, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. Defying them. I won’t do it. Not without Jackie. No.

"The fact that you don't talk, for one," Emmy says softly, undisturbed by my actions.

Bullshit. My not talking is my choice, and no therapy will change that.

"Or that you can't eat with others around."

Again, that's my choice. Right?

"You can't bear to be touched."

So?

"Your past, Cassia." Emmy then tries, and now I frown.

What happened to me in my past is my own fault, and I don't think a therapist can help me with that.

"Or your reaction in school today." Nick adds, and this time I don't have a response because it was involuntary, but it was caused by what I knew from my past, and my past was my own fault. Right?

Right.

…Right.

So no, no therapy for me, thank you.

"Cassia," Emmy says carefully, probably noticing my defiant glare. "You need therapy, even if you maybe think that you don't. We would appreciate it if you would at least give it a chance, since it is unlikely to work unless you cooperate."

I frown, my heartbeat getting heavier as I am starting to realize there is no way out of this. I am going to a therapist. Nick and Emmy are apparently putting their foot down as my caretakers.

I'm suddenly nauseous.

What do they expect me to do in therapy? How can a therapist possibly help me?

"Please give it a chance," Nick says. "If you have tried it a few times and decide that you are not ready yet, we can try again later. But Emmy and I both feel that you should try it therapy. Jackie has stressed that once you were settled in here, you should continue it."

They already spoke to Jackie about it? And she agreed? But why would she want me to do something like this without her? Does she not understand that I can’t?

"Think about it," Emmy says. "You don't have to start tomorrow. We were thinking, after Thanksgiving?"

I look at Emmy, unblinking.

"Get used to the idea, and when you have questions, just ask us. We don't expect you to start talking or eating after the first session, but wouldn't it be nice if you got less fierce panicked reactions when something happens that upsets you?" Nick continues softly, gently, as if trying to reason with a wild animal.

Is that what I am?

"Just think about it, okay? We'll talk about this later." Emmy gets up, indicating the conversation is over. She walks to the desk to get my half-finished meal and compliments me on having eaten.

I'm starting to feel ridiculous here. Compliments for eating? I’m—I’m not a damn child.

"Cassia," Nick says then. "You have had a rough day, and your body is tired. Your stomach is probably still very upset. If you want to, I can give you something to calm your stomach, and also something that will help you sleep."

I shake my head, wary. I don't need his pills. I don't know what he puts in what he says he's giving me.

"Try to rest," Emmy says gently. "Come find us if you want to and know that we're there for you. You don't have to do this alone." She repeats, not unkindly and then they leave me alone in my room once more.

---

Of course I can't sleep. Of course memories haunt me as soon as I close my eyes. When I finally sink into slumber, I dream of that Brent guy, holding me down to the bed and whispering that he'd like to get to know me better.

I bolt awake, sweat trickling down my body and my heart crashing nearly out of my chest. I take a few deep breaths, trying to dispel the memory from my mind's eye. Perhaps I should have accepted whatever Nick offered me to help me sleep. It would have been welcome right now.

I stumble out of the bed to the bathroom, splashing cold water in my face before I look in the mirror for a second.

The ghost girl is still staring back out at me.

A pale face, dark circles under my eyes. The face of a failure. I'm ugly, and I truly wonder how anybody can stand to be look at me.

I divert my gaze and crawl back into the bed that is still damp with my sweat. Tomorrow it will be Saturday. At least I won't have to go back to school, but I will have to face the James’ again.

Right now, I'm not even sure which is worse.

I wake early, grey light seeping around the heavy curtains into the room. My entire body is stiff, still sore from my panic yesterday.

The house is quiet yet and when I look at my watch I am not surprised — it is not even six yet. I slip out of bed and into my clothes. I'd like to shower but I am afraid the running water will wake the others.

Arriving in the kitchen, I make myself some hot oatmeal, comfort food that will hopefully calm my upset stomach for a bit. I pick up the paper that is on the porch already — I hope the delivery guy gets some serious extra money for coming down this driveway every morning — and settle at the breakfast bar, feeling better with the slightly higher position it provides.

Reading and eating, I hear some vague sounds in the house. It isn't until I hear distinct footsteps that I realize somebody else is awake.

Josh steps into the kitchen in sports clothes, his curly hair still damp. I blink in surprise. I didn’t know that he was allowed to spend the night. The implications of that make me blush and I have to look away. Apparently, he and Iona’s relationship was a lot more intense than I originally had figured.

That and Emmy and Nick are much more liberal in their parenting.

"Good morning," he greets me pleasantly as he walks over to the fridge to make himself some breakfast.

Eggs, milk, some bacon. He's making omelets.

"You're up early." He observes as he puts butter in a frying pan and lights the stove.

He can cook.

Why this surprises me so is beyond me, but I'm looking in awe as he melts the butter before he puts the bacon in the pan. It hisses and spits and Josh stands back a bit as the first reaction of the heat to the meat dies down.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asks, looking at me.

I nod, pointing at the empty bowl in front of me.

"Okay. If you want some of this, just let me know."

He breaks the eggs into the pan, fishing out a piece of eggshell carefully and adding some milk. The transparent egg white starts to turn white immediately and I watch in fascination.

Josh chuckles and I look up at him, busted by my staring. "You are looking like you never saw an omelet made before."

I shake my head, denying his assumption. Of course I can make omelet. I used to love them.

Josh cooks with practiced ease, chopping up some tomatoes and pouring two glasses of juice. He places one before me. "Drink this. Good calories in it. You're getting too thin."

I can only look at him, wide-eyed. Why does he tell me this? And why does he notice my body weight? I fold into myself, trying to make myself invisible.

"It's healthy," Josh adds, probably misunderstanding my reaction. "Gives you energy and all that. And you look like you could use some after—uh—well–yesterday."

Yesterday… so he knows too.

I check my watch to distract myself and see that it's only seven-thirty now. I never thought the James kids were early risers, Josh included.

"Dec and I have a game today," Josh simply says by way of explanation for his own early rise. "We have to leave around nine."

He's relaxed, paying attention to his cooking. I never expected it to be so easy, to be with Josh alone in a room. He seems more relaxed than he has been around me, and I wonder why that is. Perhaps because he is alone as well?

And I realize I'm not overly stressed being here with him. That is new and worrying at the same time. What if he turns on me and I am unprepared?

Josh grins up at me as he holds up his glass in a mock toast. "Cheers." He gulps it down in one go and refills.

"Sooooooo, what are your plans for the day?"

I watch as he slides the omelet from the pan onto slices of bread on a plate and I use the moment to get up to grab pepper and some cutlery to quickly set the table for him on the bar a seat down from me. Josh smiles in thanks as he moves to sit down and digs into his food.

"Well?" he asks.

Well, what? I cock my head, already having forgotten what he asked me.

"What are you doing today?"

Oh, that. I don't know. Worry myself into a frenzy, I guess. I shrug slowly, not really sure what he wants to hear. It seems like he’s building up to something.

"You can come and watch the game." Josh then says casually poking at the last bites of omelet. I realize after a moment that he is being completely serious.

"I mean, you can drive with me, Iona and Dec, or Emmy can come with you?"

A beat. A bite, and a swallow.

"Just so you get out of the house for a bit, you know?" Josh adds awkwardly. Seems he’s not quite used to my silence just yet. "Get some fresh air. It's not raining so it’ll be really nice out—at least for now."

Heh. It's always raining here. I doubt the sun will come out for more than an hour.

I miss the sun.

"The game starts at ten, so you have a little while to decide."

I nod, wondering if I could take that hurdle and just go out. Who will be there? Everyone from school probably. I grimace. It’s a little too soon for me to be around all of them just yet.

But…Maybe–

"Drink," Josh interrupts my internal debate, pointing at my glass on the breakfast bar. "It's good for you." He concentrates back on his food and as he is not looking up, I quickly down the juice, feeling how the cold travels down my body into my stomach. It’s actually quite delicious and I regret having to drink it so fast. It would have been nice to savor.

We sit in silence for a while until I get up to make some coffee, my movements hesitant with Josh so close. Emmy appears in the kitchen a short while later, still in her robe.

"Good morning!” She beams. "I smell coffee brewing. Thank you Cassia." She smiles at me. Reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet she addresses Josh. "You ready for the game, Hun?"

"Yeaaaaaa." He replies, drawing out the word in a sigh before finishing his juice. "And it looks like at least the morning will be dry."

"That is good. Last game of the season?"

"Yeah. If we win we go to semi-finals, but we’re going up against Florence High so who knows if we’ll win."

"You’ll win." Emmy says with complete certainty as she pours two mugs of coffee and places one before me. "Have you eaten?"

I nod. I've placed my bowl in the dishwasher, but I think she knows I am telling the truth.

"Good. Is your stomach somewhat calmer?"

I nod again.

"And how do you feel? Are you calmed down a bit?"

I look away, not sure about the answer to that question. Nothing is resolved and the feeling I am stuck in a vacuum is stronger than ever.

I'd like to hold Emmy's hand again, but I am afraid to ask.

"Hey, Auntie, I asked Cassia if she wanted to come watch the game," Josh says, poking his head in between the both of us. "But she'd need transportation."

"Oh, that might be a good idea," Emmy replies, turning to me. "Would you like to go?"

I don't know. I honestly don't. I think I might, just to be able to say that I went, but all the people being around makes me a bit—more than a bit—nervous. I don't want to bother Emmy with having to drive me places. She obviously has other things to do.

"How about this," She says after a moment of thinking. "I need to get some things from the supermarket. Why don't you join me, get some fresh air, and then on the way back, when you're up to it we can watch the end of the game?"

That sounds reasonable and I do like to be able to help Emmy with the groceries. It's the least I can do to pay back for everything they do for me.

I nod at her with a small smile and sip my coffee. Emmy's eyes widen for a moment before she recollects herself and focuses on getting breakfast.

All of a sudden I realize that I've drunk something while she was watching me.

Huh.

I didn't even think about it.

---

The supermarket is crowded, even on a Saturday morning. I see nobody I recognize however and even though it's not as calm as I prefer, I am happy to be out for a bit.

"You look more relaxed." Emmy observes as she regards me selecting meat. I’m debating between two different kinds as I mull over recipes in my mind.

I look up at Emmy, processing her words.

"You do. Distraction helps, huh." She pokes gently at the steaks I’m holding, thankfully making the decision for me.

I nod shyly, knowing she is right.

We browse through the aisles and Emmy once more encourages me to pick out what I like. A long forgotten desire resurfaces as I think back on what I wanted to do to show my gratitude towards the James family. Especially now, after how they seem to have handled the Gym incident.

I hesitate, biting my lip as I turn to Emmy.

"Yes?" She asks hopefully.

Umm…

"It’s okay Cassia. What’s on your mind?”

I glance around, making sure that we are alone and unearth my hand from the sleeves of my sweater.

If it is okay, I would like to bake something. As a ‘thank you’.

I tack on the last part a little lamely, and slightly grimace at my hands.

“You want to bake something? For us?" Emmy sounds like a million emotions are trying to fight their way out of her, but surprise and joy take the cake.

I nod. Feeling the tinge of pink on my cheeks

Emmy's face lights up in a brilliant smile. "Of course you can! Go get what you need."

Hesitantly, I step back, making to leave but not quite sure yet.

"Go on," Emmy smiles. "Live a little."

I almost snort at her statement, knowing that baking a pie has nothing to do with 'living a little', but I finally saunter off and get everything I need for an apple pie, and a strawberry swirl cheesecake.

Emmy licks her lips when I drop the last of the ingredients in the cart. "It looks like you will make something delicious." She say happily. “I may need to get my gym membership back on track.”

We finish the groceries and place them in the trunk of the car. When I open the back door, Emmy looks at me. "Why don't you sit next to me?"

I think for a moment, then close the back door and slip into the passenger's seat.

"Thank you," Emmy says softly as she starts the car. "I can tell how hard you are trying. It doesn't go unnoticed."

I swallow thickly and buckle my seat belt as Emmy backs out of the parking lot. Somehow it means a lot to me that she told me she can see I am trying. Because I am.

I really am.

"So," She says when she turns onto the road. "Would you like to go see Declan and Josh’s game? It's a rough sport though, I have to warn you. There will be tackling."

I think for a moment. I know that the boys play football and that there are tackles involved. Do I want to see them get hit? Not necessarily no, but I would like to join in on the fun.

At least for a moment.

I want to be normal. What happened yesterday in school has painfully pointed out to me that I am not, and that I cannot react normally to situations others don't even blink about.

So, perhaps I should try and go see that game.

Turning to Emmy, I do worry that I am using her time.

"You want to go?" she asks.

I nod, carefully, gauging her reaction.

"Good! I actually wanted to see them play, too. We'll have an outing together." She smiles, as if it's actual fun to be with me.

She drives us to the sport fields right at the edge of the town. I'm not worried about the groceries — it is cold enough outside that the food will keep for a while.

Emmy gets an umbrella and walks with me towards the far field, where the game is being played. A large group of people is standing and sitting in the bleachers, watching intently.

Again, nobody I recognize, and I relax a bit.

Emmy finds us a good spot on the bottom of the bleachers and sits next to me, scanning the players that are running along the field. There’s a team of players in blue and white and another in black and green. When one player in green catches the ball and makes a run for it, Emmy points him out. "Number 23. That's Declan."

He's not even the tallest of the group. I must admit I never expected him to be this quick though. Damn, he's fast.

He doesn't score however, as he is tackled from behind. His attacker and he slide over the wet grass, lumps of earth jumping up around them. I tense in shock at the violence of the contact, and Emmy flinches. "Oof! Look at that! He'll be bruised tomorrow, I'm sure."

I cannot understand for the life of me how somebody would willingly play a game that can hurt like this, but I guess that's just me.

When it starts to rain, Emmy opens the umbrella and asks me to join her underneath it. "Come on," She coaxes. "I won't bite."

Tentatively I step closer, until I am under the umbrella and almost touching her.

"I am glad you accepted my hand yesterday," Emmy says softly, keeping her gaze focused on the field. "I know this was a huge step for you." A beat. "It's not bad, or wrong, or weak, to accept support like that, or to ask for it."

Her voice is so soft I can barely hear it.

And then her words register. A frown forms on my face and I look down as I chew on my lip.

"I mean it, Cassia. Even Declan comes for a hug every now and again. There is nothing wrong with wanting affection."

But I know I don't deserve it.

It's just… hard, you know?

It's complicated. Way, Way complicated.

Because more than anything, I want it.

"Anytime you want to," Emmy says just before the umpire whistles to announce the end of the game.

I startle a little as Emmy claps and cheers — apparently Declan’s team has won.

The players shake hands and Declan’s team celebrates for a bit, clapping each other's back and congratulating each other.

"I won't ever turn you down, Cassia," Emmy ends her interrupted speech. "Anytime you want some support, I am here."

She smiles as Declan spots us sitting under the umbrella and comes over to us, taking off his helmet as he walks up. It’s evident that he hides his surprise when he spots me sitting next to his Aunt.

"Congratulations! Off to the semi-finals!" She beams up at him, and he smiles down at her.

"The rain started earlier than expected, but it was a good game. Florence High is a hell of a team. Good to see that you came too, Cassia." He smiles warmly at me. Eyes sparking. "Did you enjoy it?"

I shrug-nod. Awkwardly smiling. I’m not really sure to be completely honest.

"It's a little violent, perhaps," Emmy answers kindly for me. "You coming home straight after?"

Declan looks over his shoulder as his name is called. Josh is waving like a hooligan at us. "Nah," He says as he turns back. "I think I'm going to hang out with Josh, Ryan, and the guys later. We’ve got to celebrate."

"You do that," Emmy replies. "Will you be home for dinner?"

"Uh–Don't know. I'll call, okay?"

They say goodbye and Declan waves at me as he turns to jog towards the other side of the field, where the locker rooms are.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Emmy asks as we get back into the car again.

I look at her from the corner of my eye, shivering and cold to my core, with damp hair and soaked through shoes. Again I make that weird nod-shrug and smile.

Emmy laughs at me but is apologetic. "At least you were out for a bit."

That is true, indeed. I certainly liked that part.

Once we arrive back at the house, I help Emmy to put the groceries away. Then, after changing into drier clothes, I make a start with my pies. It is quiet in the house. Iona is shopping with her friends and Nick is in his study. Every once in a while we can hear the thrum of his voice as he takes calls.

Emmy helps me to get everything ready, and then leaves me to my own to go and do some work in the laundry room. When I try to offer to help, she refuses and tells me to work in the kitchen.

I am soon lost in the baking process, making the pies from scratch. I used to make these for Jackie and bring them to our sessions. She'd always accuse me of trying to get her fat, much like Emmy did in the store.

I cant help the small smile at the memory.

There's easy comfort in baking and my mind drifts as I work, dicing the apples, measuring the sugar and cinnamon, and whipping the cream cheese-strawberry mix.

As I put the apple pie in the preheated oven and the cream cheese in the fridge, I hear Declan’s voice coming in through the garage followed by Josh. They stop to chat with Emmy, who is equally surprised to see them, but apparently it started raining too hard for the team to celebrate for long.

The boys file into the living room just as Iona bursts through the front door with a number of glossy bags. She cheers that she got a wonderful supply haul at the thrift shop and can’t wait to start on a new craft project. There’s a grumble of male voices as Declan and Josh try to be supportive, but it’s obvious that they have no idea what she is talking about.

With a laugh, Iona disappears upstairs to drop off her bags before rejoining the boys in the living room.

It’s all so normal and I can’t help but feel that intense longing once more to be included. To be brave enough just to step out and join in on the smiles and laughs. To be a part of this glistening world around me, not stuck around dark corners and listening in like some kind of pariah.

Why can’t I?

Why can’t I just—just do it?

I grit my teeth and clench my hands against my sides. What was I going to do? Go up to my room and sit in the quiet? Alone? Suddenly it sounds so horrible, I wonder why it ever was comforting to me. It couldn’t be. Not when the need to be around this family has me wanting to be more normal than I have ever wanted to be in my entire life.

I have an hour to kill before the pie and cake are finished baking. It takes me a moment or two to build up the courage, but then I’m moving with purpose around the kitchen once more. Filling two glasses with soda, and one with juice, I go into the living room where Josh and Declan are playing some sort of puzzle game. Iona seems to be adding her own input to the game with no avail.

"Oh! Hey thanks." Josh says as they pause the game and both drink.

"You’re baking?" Declan asks. His face tilting up as he sniffs the air.

I nod.

"Hell yea. I'm sure it will be good," Declan smiles, patting the couch next to. "Want to join our game?"

I shake my head and indicate I'd just like to watch. I don’t take the seat immediately next to Declan as he suggested, instead finding myself on the very edge of the couch they’re all sharing. My usual chair looks comfy, but it’s much too far to be considered ‘included’ in what is going on within the room.

They resume the game, and it doesn't take me long to figure out what they need to do. It requires fast thinking, and I must admit it looks like a game I'd like to play.

After a while, Josh stretches. "Yea. Yea. I'm done."

"Aw," Declan complains. "Just because I am winning?"

"No," Josh chuckles, "Because I am done. Maybe Cassia will want to take over from me?"

He looks hopeful. It's not the first time they are asking me to join in a game.

Uh no. I don't even know how the controller works.

However, this really looks like something I would like to try. And Declan is so good, I won't have to be afraid of him losing so at least I think there won't be any consequences for that.
Right?

"Come on, just try it. You enjoyed watching. I could tell.” Iona coaxes with a gentle grin as she pushes the controller towards me over the coffee table.

Hesitantly, I take it, just as he gets up and stretches again. I look from the controller to the screen, feeling lost.

And I’m immediately alarmed, when Josh walks over to me, kneeling before the couch where I’m seated. Declan shifts in his seat out of the corner of my eye, gaze hard on Josh. I stiffen when Josh lifts his hand and points to the buttons on the controller. "Pick up, release, switch. Move, use bonus."

He looks at me to see if I got it and I nod, wide-eyed at his close proximity. He gets up again and smiles. "Good luck. Declan is far too good at this game."

Declan snorts, his gaze only relaxing the slightest bit. "You're just a sore loser."

"I must say I wonder if Cassia is any good," Josh muses. "Maybe I'll just stick around and watch the first game." He sits back down, and Iona snuggles into his side, scooping up her phone and casually scrolling the screen.

It's that audience that makes very sure that I lose the first game, as I am too tense to really react.

"Come on, Cassia, I'm sure you can do better than that," Declan says. "Let's try again."

After a few games, I am getting the hang of it. No longer bothered by Josh looking on, I start to pick up pace and make quicker moves. We've been playing for some time until we reach a tie.

"Wow," Josh says appreciatively. "You have competition, Declan."

"One more," Declan replies and starts the new game before I can protest.

We play, and when I check the score I can see I am winning. Just then, the oven beeps. I fly up, leaving the controller on the table mid-game and almost run into the kitchen, as if the pie cannot wait one minute to be taken out of the oven.

Declan calls out to me, but I’m already within the safe contours of the kitchen.

I put it on the counter, focusing on my actions to prevent the panic from almost winning to bubble up.

Games are dangerous. I should not have played.

I get the cream cheese out of the fridge and decorate it with more strawberries. It looks magnificent and I focus desperately on that, trying to forget the game.

Just when I am done, Nick wanders into the kitchen. "What smells so magnificently here?" He looks over at the counter and sees my handiwork. "My, Cassia. Those look delicious! Did you make them from scratch all on your own?"

I nod, shy with his enthusiasm.

He comes over, inhaling deeply. "Hmm, I guess we'll have to wait until it cools down?"

I nod again, watching in awe as Nick makes a theatrical gesture of disappointment.

"I'll finish up in my office, and then I am coming down for this, for sure. Is pie what we are having for dinner? Wait…" He says more to himself than me, and he rummages through the fridge. "Do we have some whipped cream somewhere?"

He comes back out empty-handed, and almost disappointed. I cannot hide my smile as I point to a covered bowl in the fridge, where freshly whipped cream is waiting.

"Fabulous. I'll be right there. You’re a blessing, Cassia."

---

The pie was excellent, or so they tell me. I haven't eaten it yet, but I will as soon as everybody has left the kitchen. What I did do, to everybody's happy surprise and happy smiles, was to sit down with them in the living room, sipping my coffee as they ate.

Now that I did it once, it's easier to do it again.

Not that I am not surprised beyond belief by my own actions.

But it's not that special and I certainly don't deserve praise over something as inanely normal as this. I just want to be normal. I'm starting to get fed up with panicked reactions like I had yesterday.

I didn't have them at William’s. I don't know why I am having them here.

After the dessert, Nick compliments me again and then leaves with Josh for the hardware store, as there is something they want to build in the garage.

Emmy helps me to clear away the dishes, then refills my coffee mug and asks me to sit down with her for a moment at the kitchen table.

Immediately wary, I do as she asks.

"Have you thought about therapy?"

Oh, she's sure coming down to business quickly.

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable and unwilling to think about this. Therapy builds on the notion that people can be fixed. But I am not broken.

I am malformed.

There is nothing to fix and besides, it's all my fault. I have a deep fear that a therapist will discover this quickly enough and call me out on it. I'm weak like that. I know I am at fault. I don't need somebody to tell me this.

"Cassia." Emmy's soft voice urges me from my drifting thoughts.

I look up at her, fighting to focus and make eye contact.

"Have you thought about it?"

No.

"We really think you could benefit from it," Emmy says quietly. "Somebody to help you conquer your fears."

I don't know what to do with her words. I cross my arms over my chest. My nails digging painfully into my palms.

"You don't have to do this alone, Cassia. You need help to deal with your past."

That's the second time in two days that she refers to my past. My breath hitches involuntarily, but at the same time anger flares. What does she mean, deal with my past? How can therapy possibly help with something that happened and which was my fault to begin with? Would therapy help me to become a better person?

I think not.

Therapy doesn’t change the past and spontaneously fix everything. And that, I know with one hundred percent certainty, is the only way to fix something malformed. Just to go back to the beginning and start from scratch.

"Don't get angry, please. I know that perhaps you are not ready for this, but I want you to try it. A therapist can help you with that, too."

Stop talking Emmy, please. I don't want this. I don’t want another therapist. They won’t help. My chest constricts in panic as I think of having to go to some random stranger once a week and sit there for an hour.

Why can't it be Jackie? Jackie is nice enough, and I could email her. Is therapy not all about talking?

Because that's kind of impossible with me. Just saying.

And I don't want it. What's the use? How could it possibly help?

"After Thanksgiving we'll start," Emmy says. "We'll look for a good therapist to work with you."

Hey, I never said yes?

Emmy holds my gaze for a long moment. She doesn't have to say anything. She's taking care of me, whether I agree or not. It is her right.

It's times like this I long to be eighteen so others cannot have this hold over me anymore.

Emmy finishes her coffee as I stare into mine until it is cold. Then she leaves me with a quiet goodbye, and I am alone.

Therapy.

The thought alone makes me sick.

I tut in annoyance, clear my mug away and step outside into the bitingly cold air. It's dry again, and I plop down on the top step of the porch, looking out into the woods as the wet of the wood creeps through the fabric of my jeans.

I don't even care.

Therapy. Therapy.

Fucking hell.

After a while I hear the porch door open and when I look around, I see Declan, holding my coat in one hand and two mugs of tea in the other. He hands the coat to me and I take it, welcoming the warmth.

Then he sits down next to me, offering me a mug of tea in greeting. "How are you?"

I shrug because I honestly don't know. Tired, sore and in a bad mood after Emmy's talk. It sucks because I was having a good time before all of that.

"Better than yesterday?" Declan asks, he takes a long sip of his tea, watching me over the rip of the mug.

I nod. For some reason I find it hard to meet his gaze today.

"Did Brent do something stupid to trigger som—what happened?"

Biting my lip, and annoyed at the reminder, I nod again.

"I'm so sorry about that. I shouldn't have let him walk with you." He looks so apologetic that I unconsciously turn towards him, my right hand twitching out to touch him. I stop myself and he watches as my hand drops onto the porch between us.

We stare at each other for a moment before Declan gets his phone from his pocket and hands it to me. "Talk to me, Cass."

Immediately, I take his phone, trying to ignore the way our hands brushed accidentally as I grabbed it.

This is not your fault.

"It is," He says. "I should have looked out for you."

What?

I flip the screen towards him so he can read it, but I am typing again before he can begin talking.

You can't protect me from everything.

Declan reads and frowns. "I know, but in this case, I think I could have helped. But I had no idea you had been skipping Gym."

Yeah, well.

I shrug.

"Is this why you were so tense yesterday?"

I look up at him, confused.

"You were so tense; it was rolling off you in waves." His voice is soft, and he has shifted so he’s sitting a bit closer to me. The warmth from his arm is making it hard to want to move away.

Ah. That. A gut feeling, perhaps. My own battles to fight. Having to let Declan go, but realizing I am not wanting to. Warn him away and hope against hope that he will stay.

It's scary to have the desire to be able to rely on someone. People, by default, cannot be trusted.

If Declan learns the truth about me, I am sure that he will leave. Yet I can't seem to get myself to tell him that truth, even though I know it is better to do it know, and quickly. Like a band-aid.

"Hey, come back to me," Declan says softly. “What are you worrying about?"

You.

I worry about you more than anything else and I’m not sure why I can’t seem to understand why.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong," He says, glaring down into his tea, as if it held all the mistakes he’d ever made in life within the dark waters.

My fingers make a tap-tap noise as I type against the screen of his phone.

You did nothing wrong, Declan.

He glances up from the screen, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "Then why are you so tense around me? I have the feeling something is bothering you."

I sigh in frustration. I guess I'll have to tell him. Why doesn't he just leave me alone?

The silence stretches as I try to find a way to tell him without laying my deepest insecurities bare.

"What I'd give to know what's going on in your mind," Declan muses quietly. "You can tell me, honestly. I won't run."

I'm not so sure about that.

Declan thinks for a moment, sipping his tea as he looks into the forest that is getting ready for winter. He doesn't look at me when he speaks.

"Does it have something to do with you thinking you are not good company?"

I swallow, my gaze following his hand as he gently touches the back of my hand with his finger tips. I swallow, but I can’t pull away. The warmth is something incredible, the touch itself even more so.

"Because I think you are."

Ah, now I do know what to say.

You are wrong.

"Then tell me why, Cassia. Please? What could you possibly have done to be so convinced you are bad company? Did you do something illegal?" Declan snorts now, as if he can’t believe that I could be a criminal.

No.

"Then what?"

I sigh, feeling tears welling up as my frustration wars with my desire to just tell him.

Silence falls and Declan doesn't press. He sips his tea again, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers are still stroking my hand, and its making it hard to think.

"Is it so bad that you can't tell me?" He finally asks, almost whispering.

I nod, and a tear escapes and rolls down my cheek before I wipe it away with the sleeve of my coat. Finally able to pull away my hand. Although I miss his touch as soon as it’s gone.

"I'm sorry," He says, his voice hoarse. "For whatever it is. I'm sorry."

We are silent again, and I drink my tea as I too stare down into it’s depths.

"I guess that maybe therapy will be a good thing for you then?" He offers.

My head whips around to look at him, my eyes wide in confusion. He knows this?

"I heard you talking in the kitchen earlier. Auntie said she wanted you to try it?" He shrugs almost too casually.

I look into my mug again, thoughts swirling without any coherency. He thinks it's good for me, too?

"I mean, therapy can help you come to terms with things, you know? Even if they are things that you think you have done wrong. Because you are obviously not doing them anymore right now, but they are still bothering you." Declan shifts slightly, his face coming a bit closer has he tries to read my expression from where I’ve hidden it by tilting my head down.

His words are so entirely right my breath escapes me in a heavy exhale. I never looked at it like that. He may—he may be right. I have not yet met any form of repercussion here, so perhaps I am not behaving all that badly after all. Would therapy really help me? But it still means I have to 'fess up’ and tell a stranger of all my mishaps. I'm not sure if I want to do that.

Because the fact remains that it is all my fault. And I haven't even misbehaved willingly.

"Talk to me." Declan coaxes for the third time, his hand coming into view again, but I move just in time, disguising my odd movement as reaching for his phone again.

To hell with it.

I'm scared.

He reads and is silent for a moment before he answers. "It is scary. I would be, too. But if it helps, would it be worth it to overcome that fear?"

I frown, thinking. Would it really help? I type.

I don't know if it can help.

Declan chuckles, a humorless laugh. "Me neither. But you won't know it unless you try. That goes a bit for everything, I think." He winks.

I sigh, not sure what to think about him being such an advocate of me going to therapy. He’s trying to be supportive I know this, and somehow he sounds much more reasonable about it than his Aunt and Uncle, but I can’t get over this fear.

I don’t know if I am even capable of trying to get over it.

The fear is me.