Chapter Text
It was one of the bad days.
Or nights depending on your perspective
Cassie sat down beside her bed, resting her back on it.
She had been thinking about the events that happened in the past months.
The cult. Laurel. Nightshade. Redding. Steve. Mason Kyle. Gather. Ree. The senerity Ranch. Jane. Malcom. Kate. Director sterling.
And her mother.
She couldn't stop herself from going back into that arena, the knife in her hand, cassandra and lorelai.
Her mother's eyes losing their light as she watched.
As she held the knife.
If she had waited for a couple more minutes. If she had pretended to Fight. If she had argued more,
If...
She tried to push those thoughts back. She counted backword from 10 like her therapist taught her. Taking deep breathes to fill the hollow Ness in her heart.
You killed her.
It's your fault.
No.
She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head, as if she could force the thoughts out.
But they kept coming. Each one hurt more than the previous.
Stop
She just wanted them to stop.
She tried to think of something else. But she found herself going from thinking about one cult to another.
She thought about the Senerity Ranch. Of Darren Darby. She thought of how lia risked herself by infiltrating and pretending to be a lost lamb looking for guidance to fool the leader.
Lia
Her mind stopped jumping around and focused on her. On the time after she had escaped.
What was her subconscious trying to tell her?
As she went through her memory of that day. When lia krept up on her. They talked for a bit then Lia reached for a drink–
Her wrist.
Will it help?
Cassie couldn't help but wonder.
She knew it was wrong. She knew that she could walk to Dean room. And lie down beside him, seak comfort from the heat of his body, and calmness from his steady breaths.
But that wouldn't help.
It certainly didn't the first 5 times she tried it. It would be a waste. She would just wake him up and worry him more.
He didn't deserve that.
She thought it was getting better. With everyone by her side, and her weekly therapy sessions.
It should get better.
Cassie wasn't the one who reached for her bedside drawer. She wasn't the one who unscrewed the nail on the pencil sharpener.
She felt as if she were looking at herself from an outsiders perspective.
Her hands weren't shaking. Her breath was steady. She wasn't trembling as she pulled the leg of her pants up. She didn't hesitate as she slided the blade through the skin of her thigh.
One time.
She didn't have the courage to do it again.
blood dripped down her thigh, and almost immediately she felt the knot in her chest loosen. And the pit in her stomach dissappearing.
She felt like she could finaly breath.
She cleaned the wound and put a bandage on the cut. She'd think about what she did later.
Tomorrow. She thought.
Or maybe never.
Right now She was too tired to feel guilt. Too relieved to finally being able to sleep.
She closed her eyes, and this time the voices were silent.