GUCCI BOY//kth

50.) you think you can win?

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•••
"Tell me truth of you
I want to know it all
all the messed up muddled truth
and I will tell you mine
and we can be
the secret keepers
of each other's
madness"

-Atticus
•••

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Cassia's POV

For a while Cassia was standing next to her mother's bed in silence, only holding her tiny, bony hand in hers. It took her some time to adjust, to realize that the woman in front of her was really her mother, Julee and that this wasn't just another twisted move in her father's sick game.

There had always been so many words that came to Cassia's mind when asked to describe her mother but weak was never one of them.

She was honest, maybe a bit too straightforward, strict, determined, caring, passionate, well articulated, polite, maybe gentle even at times but never weak.

Never lost, never this broken.

"Are you really here?"

Even her voice sounded nothing like her now. So quiet, so small, no bite to it, no emotion.

"Yes, mum. It's really m-me" Cassia stammered, loosening her tight grip on her mother's bony hand in fear of shattering it. A porcelain doll, that was what the woman in front of her reminded her of. Skin such a pale, milky white it could have been snow, arms so thin, skin so fragile it could have been paper.

Wrinkles lining her skin, white and grey strands of hair littering the once shiny, rich black. She looked so much older all of a sudden.

Eyes so empty, voice so faint she could have been a ghost. Cassia didn't know what scared her more, the fact that the woman in front of her looked nothing like her mother or that for the first time she looked human.

"I missed you, Cassia" there was a smile on her lips. A shadow of a smile on her mother's lips. And that was all it took for Cassia to feel a spark of courage again. She had to focus on her eyes, she had to hold onto the only thing that still seemed familiar.

"I-I missed you too, mum" Cassia cleared her throat to get rid of the stickiness that clung to every breath she took, every word she spoke. Glossy eyes flickering to the bruises on her mother's neck. Deep purples, angry shades of red, sick tones of yellow. Her body looked like a warzone, like it had been painted with pain.

It had never been this bad, things had never seemed so hopeless, so unfixable.

How could she let something like this ever happen? How had it been possible for things to get this out of hand?

This wasn't just the usual black eye or cut, not just the same old small bruises from her father's nightly lash outs, this was serious.

He could have killed her.

Like a piece of paper Cassia's heart crumbled, a soaring pain stabbing her chest, pulling her down to the floor. She never let go of her mother's hand, not even when she wanted nothing more than to break down in front of her. It took every single bit of strength still left in her body to remain standing, fighting back the anxiety attack and panic gnawing at her chest, Cassia's fingers trembled from all the effort.