Chapter 23

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Sunday - January 9, 2018 - 11:38 p.m.

The violent whips of wind from outside did little to help my cause as I continued to squirm restlessly in my bed, unable to quell the rampant anxiety that had usurped my body. The insomnia didn't matter at this point. No amount of sleep would eliminate the nauseating guilt I'd feel when I woke up in the morning.

I kept my eyes shut long enough to drift into a foggy, semiconscious slumber. Even in my dreams—my only hope for solace at the moment—all I could see was the broken glare of Brandon's devastated eyes staring down at me, longing for an explanation.

The thing that pained me most about this whole situation was that, despite my guilt-ridden conscience, I wasn't nearly as heartbroken as I should have been. For Christ's sake, I'd just lost the guy who was prepared to spend the next four years, undoubtedly longer, right by my side; the guy who would be on my doorstep at the drop of a hat if I needed him; the guy who would surely sacrifice his own life if it meant a better one for me.

Yet my eyes were as dry as the Sahara.

A series of sharp bangs at the window snatched me out of my sleep. I rolled over in my bed, trying to identify the bloodthirsty crows whose usual pestering didn't commence until daybreak.

The mysterious sound stopped for a moment, and just before my eyelids had reclosed, I made out a blurry figure behind the frost-coated pane.

Someone was on the roof, trying to get my attention.

I didn't waste any time wondering who it might be—all of my money was on Brandon. I could practically hear his speech already: how he'd made a rash decision, that this whole mess was worth talking through, that he was prepared to take me back despite my irredeemable mistake.

I had to admit, I was somewhat relieved as I lifted the window open and found my theory disproven.

"Cassie?"

A surreal shudder passed through me. The voice I was so used to hearing exclusively in my dreams was now right in front of me.

"Zara," I whispered, gazing suddenly into her luminescent eyes.

I helped her through the window, leading her to my bed in the early morning darkness. Despite my imperative need for some shut-eye, I was immensely glad to see her at the moment.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

She opened her mouth slightly, her lips quivering in the process, but no words emerged. Her face was obscure and unreadable in the darkness of the room. It took a moment for me to discover the tear dripping down from her newly bruised eye.

She winced lightly as I ran my finger over the fresh cut along her temple.

"What happened?"

Without answering, she threw herself into my arms, burying her face in my chest as she sobbed uncontrollably. I held her firmly as she wept, the same way she'd held me in the cemetery a couple weeks prior. I could feel her body shivering with anxiety, the kind so horrific and inescapable it left you feeling frail and brittle inside. The kind I knew all too well.

"Wait here," I ordered.

Tiptoeing past my parents' room, I crept downstairs to the kitchen, threw some ice cubes in a Ziploc bag and ran some warm water over a washcloth.

Zara appeared calmer when I returned to the room a moment later, curled up on the edge of my bed. I rested the ice against her purple eye and gently dabbed her cut until the dried blood had disappeared. Then I waited patiently until she was ready to talk.

"Layla came home around eleven," she began after twenty minutes of heart-wrenching silence. "She was really wasted this time—more so than I've ever seen before." A fresh round of tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke. "I pretended to be asleep when she came into my room, but she started yelling—screaming—about the dishes not being done, how there was no food in the fridge. How much she hated hour parents for making her play babysitter these past few months..."

She could barely get the words out in between her hysterical sniffles.

"I tried my best to calm her down. It usually works, too. But tonight was...different. It was like she'd forgotten that we were sisters. There was this rage in her eyes that I'd never seen before. I had to get out of there before something worse happened."

My heart pounded with horror at the mere thought of myself in the same predicament.

"You should stay here tonight," I urged.

She nodded weakly as a faint smile surfaced on her face.

I pulled the cover our bodies as we laid down together. The warmth of her body felt incredible against my own.

"She wasn't always wasn't always like this, you know."

I could see the anguish in her eyes as she rolled over to face me.

"Believe it or not, Layla and I got along great when we were growing up. She was the big sister I'd also imagined. She took me out to eat, gave me manicures on the weekends, stood up to anyone who gave me a hard time at school. When I was six, we dressed up as Lilo and Stitch for Halloween, and at the end of the night, she dumped her entire pillowcase of candy into my own." The bliss of the memories bubbled across her face. "She had this...motherly instinct about her."

My brain struggled to register Layla and motherly instinct in the same sentence. The image of her inebriated body strung out across the table at the bar seeped into my head.

"I'm sorry that instinct went away," I said somberly.

"Oh, it didn't go away. That's the problem."

I stared at her in confusion, wanting desperately to understand.

"After my little brother came into the picture," she explained, "things started to change. She was completely and utterly infatuated with Ethan—more so than she ever was with me at that age. She would take care of him while my parents were at work, take him to the park, stay up all night teaching him how to read and master basic arithmetic on his LeapFrog. All of her energy shifted to him. I suppose her all love went along, too."

I could tell the words didn't come easy.

"So, from then on, I was the invisible girl. She turned eighteen before I'd even made it to middle school. My parents urged her to go to college, do something meaningful with her life. They even offered to pay every dime of tuition. Layla refused, said it was too much work and that she'd been chatting online for a year with some guy from Kansas City. He was well off, according to her, and had promised to grant her every financial wish if she went steady with him."

"What happened?" I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.

"The Brad Pitt she was expecting turned out to be more of a Danny DeVito with four kids and a calender full of custody hearings. She'd already flown all the way here and had nowhere else to go, so they hooked up for a few sad months before he got himself thrown in Crossroads Correctional Center for check fraud. She's never had a job that's lasted more than two months. No legal job, that is."

This history, though it didn't excuse the rampant alcoholism or habitual abuse, explained a whole hell of a lot. Strangely enough, I found myself developing a soft spot for the crass, violent, alcohol-ridden woman who'd put the girl I loved through hell.

"You wanna know the most fucked up thing of all?" she asked, drying the new tears before they materialized. "Despite everything she's done to me, all the cuts and bruises and senseless threats, I can't help but feel so sorry for that girl. Because I remember the girl she once was, the girl I felt protected around. To this day, we've never managed to get back what he had. I know we never will." A sudden tear rolled down her cheek. "I know it sounds messed up, but sometimes I think about what it would've been like if Ethan were never born and how maybe, just maybe, we'd be closer than ever right now."

"You don't have control over everything," I assured her. "Especially other people. As a wise girl once told me, life is too short to be dictated by fear."

A vibrant smile broke across her face as I repeated her advice. Her soft hands suddenly interlocked with mine. Her coldly earnest eyes were staring directly into mine, sending a chill down my spine.

"Cassie...there's something I need to tell you."

She hesitated before continuing. The disquieting silence told me she didn't want to continue.

"I have to leave Chamberlain. I can't stay here anymore—not with her. It was only a couple bruises this time. Next time it could be my life."

The contents of my mind began to circulate in an ominous whirlwind. She'd lost me at leave.

"You can't leave." My voice made it sound like an order rather a suggestion. "Can't you call someone about this? Your parents? What about child protective services? I'm sure they can do something to help you."

She turned to me with an incredulous look. "My parents have enough on their plate right now, and the only thing CPP will do is string me up in some foster home for the next ten months until I'm legal. I'm not waiting around for that glory day."

The sincerity in her voice parallel that of her intentions. The world around seemed to cease in an eerie freeze frame as I suddenly envisioned a life without her. Waking up every morning, knowing I'd never see her face again, never hear the sound of her voice. The ecstasy that kept me going throughout the day—gone in the blink of an eye.

"Where will you go?" I wanted her to pick up on the desperation in my voice.

"I called my friend in New York yesterday. He says there's an extra mattress in his studio with my name on it. It's ready whenever I am."

"Whenever?" I confirmed. I prayed that time wasn't now.

"You can't do this," I pleaded. "Please don't do this to me."

The remorse in her eyes was growing stronger with every objection I mounted.

"Cassie, believe me, this is so incredibly hard for me. But I just can't live in that house anymore. Layla's no longer the sister I grew up with. She's dangerous, more so than I ever imagined when I first moved here. I never told you this, but she has a Colt forty-five stowed away in her hamper. I'm not waiting around to see what's in store for me after her next happy hour."

The fear in her voice was a sucker punch right to the abdomen.

This is real, I absorbed with a deep, trembling breath. She's really leaving me.

Part of me was waiting eagerly for her to reveal that this was all some practical joke. I still couldn't bring myself to let go of that stubborn belief. The thought of losing her for good was enough to make me vomit.

Then again, under the circumstances, I couldn't really blame her. Apparently her situation at home was far more severe than I'd estimated, and I hadn't realized how badly she was itching to get out of Chamberlain. I loathed myself for responding so selfishly to her concern, for only taking my own well-being into consideration. She had every right to escape from such a turbulent situation. It was for the best, I reminded myself. It was only a matter of time before things went sour between her and Layla again. I couldn't bring myself to wait around for the result of her sister's next drunken rage. I'd seen enough of her brutal handiwork to know what she was capable of.

Still, I just couldn't come to terms with the fact that, in one devastatingly short week, she would be gone—as swiftly and spontaneously as she'd arrived. My chest throbbed with frustration. I'd just lost one vital person in my life; there wouldn't be a chance in hell for me if I were to lose another.

"How much longer will you be here?" I asked, suppressing the prickling tears with all my might.

"There's a Greyhound that leaves from St. Joseph on Saturday. I already bought my ticket."

My heart sank like a cinderblock into my lower intestine. I nodded indifferently, attempting to conceal my anguish.

"So....what happens with us? We become FaceBook friends and never see each other again?"

"Of course we'll see each other again. You can come up and visit me anytime you want." She wiped the fresh drop from my eye before it had a chance to fall.

I squeezed her hands tightly, realizing this might be one of the last times I'd have the exhilarating touch of her skin at my disposal.

"Cassie, look at me."

I raised my head up weakly, obeying her command.

"Please don't think for one second that I was lying when I told you that I loved you."

Her words, as comforting as they were, did little to fill the freshly dug hole in my heart. Even if we were to keep this thing going, the odds would surely be against us. I knew that long distance relationships were a surefire route to separation. I couldn't even fathom how it was possible to love someone you couldn't see in the flesh, couldn't wake up to every morning, couldn't touch with your own two hands. Our love had no chance at surviving if our sole form of communication took place through the confines of a computer screen.

There was only one solution that came to mind—one last hope at reclaiming my happiness.

"I'm coming with you." My voice was low, but retained a blaring confidence.

The flash of fear in her eyes caught me off guard. "Cassie, I can't let you do that."

"I can't let myself stay here without you."

She shook her head defiantly. "I refuse to let you throw away everything you've worked so hard for. You're only five months away from graduation! I'm about to flunk my junior year. You have so much more to lose than I do."

"You aren't accountable for my decisions," I reminded her. "Besides—the only thing I care about losing is you."

It sounded less corny in my head, but the faint twinkle in her eyes told me she appreciated this admission.

"I'll just start fresh, you know? I can find a job in New York, help out with rent, buy my own groceries. I can always get my GED or something; most community colleges don't even require a high school diploma. I'm only eighteen, for Christ's sake."

Her expression had grown much more understanding, though a trace of skepticism still loomed in her face. "What about Mizzou? What about your family?"

I chuckled scornfully. "You mean my helicopter mom that grounds me at the drop of a dime, and my spineless dad who never has the balls to defend me? They've done enough controlling over the years. I'm eighteen—it's my turn now."

There was a silence as she absorbed my true feelings.

"What about Brandon? You're just gonna leave him here? Just like that?"

I could tell Brandon was her last line of defense, her last hope at talking me out of my rash decision.

"I don't have to worry about that," I told her. "He beat me to it."

Her face scrunched in confusion, which was followed by horror as the realization sunk in.

"Oh my God..." she muttered.

I rolled onto my other side, away from her. I didn't want her to see the tears that were bound to ensue. She slowly wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me into her warm embrace.

"When?" she asked.

"Yesterday."

"Shit," she whispered. "Cassie, this is all my fault. I've been nothing but a burden to you since I got to Chamberlain. I never should have put you in this position. I thought we could keep this under wraps—just a little innocent fun until you left for school in the Fall. I never meant for any of this to affect you negatively. Please believe me!"

"I do," I assured her with a forgiving smile. "This isn't because of you, Zara. And please don't think that you've been a burden to me. Nothing could be further from the truth. Brandon and I...we just...don't have the same connection we used to. This was completely inevitable, trust me. He doesn't know anything about us."

Her belief that she was the reason for all this—as accurate as it may have been—made me sick to my stomach.

"Well, I guess I can't stop you from doing this," she admitted. "It is your life, and you decide what happens with it. Do me a favor, though." She pursed her lips tentatively. "This is a huge decision—one that may not pan out the way you hoped. At least take a couple of days to sleep on it. Make sure this is what you really want before we get on that bus together. The last thing I want is for you to make some reckless decision you end up regretting for the rest of your life."

"Deal," I agreed. "Trust me—I won't regret this one."

She squeezed my hands tighter. "I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't."

Her fingers slithered up to my neck, bringing my lips to hers in a kiss that was reminiscent of our very first.

As I laid down to resume what little sleep I had left in me, holding Zara tightly in my arms, I was still trying to process how drastically my life was about to change. I figured it wouldn't fully set in until we were on our Greyhound to the Big Apple.

An excitement I'd never experienced before boiled inside me as I envisioned my future life with her. I wasn't so naïve as to believe there wouldn't be obstacles threatening our happiness. Yet I knew those obstacles were no match for the unwavering euphoria of waking up next to her every day, spending every moment of my time in her presence. The fate I'd fantasized about since I first saw her was suddenly about to come to fruition.

We were in this together now.

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