Forty One: Back and Forth

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Her eyes bore into yours, like a deer in headlights. You would've found that ironic, if you'd been in your right mind; was it not you that thought she had been killed? What had you even more mystified was the fact that she hadn't cowered away from Masky, nor had she spoken to him with harsh words. On the contrary, they seemed... well acquainted.

The last time you'd seen Cass, she'd sacrificed herself so you could run. You had no fucking clue why brutal, unforgiving Masky would let her live. You would have been glad, if she (just like you) hadn't ended up in this godforsaken warehouse. It couldn't bode well, for either of you.

When you broke eye contact to check over your shoulder, Brian and Masky had already disappeared. No point in following, as anxious as you were to speak to Brian. And you didn't want to be anywhere near Masky, lest he decide to punish you for escaping the guest bedroom from Hell.

When you looked back, Cass was walking away from you at an abnormally quickened pace. You frowned - did she really not have anything to say to you? No explanation, not even a 'hello'? Your heart ached as you watched her retreat - she was an old source of comfort, she'd seen you through your darkest days after you killed Harry. So, without thinking too much about it, your feet began to follow after her.

You weren't sure where else to go. You felt stupidly safer with the knowledge that Brian was somewhere in the building, though he and Masky had walked off together - you weren't sure what they were doing, and you didn't really care. As long as you didn't run into Jeff, you'd be content with stalking behind Cass, boring into the back of her head and praying that she'd just slow down.

Twists and turns gave way to more concrete hallways. You'd probably circled back by now to the same halls you'd wandered after being kicked out of the infirmary, but they all looked the same in their filth. Cass didn't relent, ten feet ahead at any given moment. You called out a couple times for her to wait up, but she very clearly didn't want to speak to you.

Then, after twenty minutes of fruitless, tiresome pursuit, she whipped around to face you with an exasperated "What, (y/n)?"

You'd never heard such venom from the usually-gentle woman. You were taken aback, only able to splutter out a, "I thought you were dead."

From here, you could get a good look at her face. A fortnight since you'd seen her, maybe a bit more, you didn't know. She looked wildly different. Greasy, tousled hair, a cut lip that seemed to be only just healing. A light scattering of bruises along her collarbones and neck. Her button-up shirt was torn at the bottom. What had happened to her? Was this your fate, too?

Cass looked at you with glazed-over eyes. "I'm not." No thanks to you. You were hit with a pang of guilt. You were a terrible fucking friend. Not as bad as Lily, but still shitty. You left the poor woman, the kind soul, the friend who'd taken you in at your lowest, to die.

"Anything else you want to get off your chest?" Cass' tone wasn't venomous, nor was it friendly. She just sounded... dead.

She was probably asking after an apology, but the sight of her tattered up appearance had you opening your mouth with something else. Quietly, you asked, with your eyes on her dark bruises, "Masky, Cass?" Was he the one who'd beat her up?

She regarded you for another moment, before wordlessly pivoting on her heel and continuing her power-walk away from you.

You'd hit a sore spot, clearly, but you needed to talk to her, following close behind. "Cass! Tell me what the fuck is going on with you!"

She whipped around again, hands flying to her hair as if the sound of your voice alone was causing her pain. "I'm sick, (y/n)! Just like you!" Her voice cracked, before she hastily hushed her own tone, glancing around the empty hall. "Now, leave me be, it's not safe."

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