The Worst Days of Our Lives

Chapter 27: Cassandra

“I’m sorry, Cassandra,” She heard the words but all intended sentiment was lost within the snarls of her panicking mind. Her throat was closing up, oxygen just wasn’t reaching her lungs. She reached up with nails and dragged them firmly across the soft skin, trying to somehow open up the air-passage, giving her some sort of relief.

The whirlwind of thoughts, crashing against all sides of her mind was making it impossible to calm down. She just wanted it to stop, all of it. She tangled her thin fingers within the frizz on top of her head and began to pull, the sensation of pain causing her to see spots. The pain was bringing her back to reality, so she continued. All she could think about was the coolness of the medical table against her thighs, the bright overhead light shining blindingly into her eyes.

Empty, worthless, nothing, these words were screaming through her brain, but she could swear someone was sitting right next to her, telling her over and over again how little she mattered. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out everything and calm down. Her lungs wouldn’t stop burning, her skin wouldn’t stop crawling, her mind wouldn’t stop torturing her. All of the sensations were far too much and she was seriously doubting how much longer she would be able to withstand this.

She opened her mouth, trying to scream for help but all she could manage was a whimper. Her chest was constricted with tight knots, never faltering in their grip for even a moment. She ran her nails across the tension, trying to reduce the pain, but this resulted in nothing. She was a prisoner in her own body, trapped helplessly in a cage of her raging mind.

A clicking sound, followed by a familiar smell  made her eyes snap open and look up at Chance. In his hand, a lit cigarette, outstretched towards her, close enough all she had to do was lean forward and take a hit. So she did.

Two years since her last cigarette, two long, unfulfilling years. As soon as she felt the warming feeling in her throat, she let the smoke roll out from between her lips, accompanied by a moan. The tension was relaxing, almost immediately, throughout her throat and all other muscles. And to Cassandra, it felt delicious.

Eagerly, she inhaled again, this time bring her still shaking fingers up to the cigarette, pulling it away from Chance’s hand. This was everything she needed, the craving she didn’t know she was having, it was gently slowing down her thoughts, untangling them from the massacre they were moments before. A calm came over Cassandra, such a drastic change to the emotions she has been feeling for months. All of her stress and sadness just melted away, mingling with the smoke floating in the air.

When she had smoked all but the filter of her cigarette, she crushed the smoldering tip against the tile floor, letting her hands come back to rest in her lap. Cassandra looked up and realized that Chance was watching her, so she in turn watched in. He was sitting next to her, their back propped up against the cold wall, close enough that she could lean her head on his shoulder if she wanted. And she did. Chance turned his body towards her, wrapping his arm around her fragile shoulders and pulling her against his side.

“I’m glad you came to me,” Chance commented, noticing her comfort with him. Cassandra nuzzled her face gently into his neck, his scent washing over her, making her nostalgic. They had sat in this position many a time in their days of youth, “I don’t know where I went, Chance. I don’t know anything anymore.” Slowly, thoughts began to spill back into her mind, drowning out the good feeling Chance was giving her.

Chance was not the type of person to accuse someone without probable cause, but there was no way Toby could be anything but good. However, she could not help but think the emptiness and worthlessness she was feeling did not simply stem from nowhere. In a way, Toby has been the source of her misery. She couldn’t deny that he had played an essential role in ripping apart her happiness today. If he was capable of it now, had he truly inflicted the same misery on Chance years ago?

“You just got lost,” he mumbled, burying his face in her hair, breathing her in like it was the first time they met, “But I promised I’d find you.” It had been so long since Cassandra had felt this kind of soaring in her chest; happiness was bubbling sporadically throughout her entire body but she couldn’t completely surrender to the euphoria because everything she had grown to know was a lie.

A battle was raging inside of Cassandra’s mind, unable to decide between what was right and wrong. Here was Chance, the boy she had loved and missed terribly, telling her that Toby was the source of so much pain. If she had known Toby was so malicious, she would’ve never become submissive to him, allowing him to show her kindness and respect. But did Toby really care about her, or was it all just an act to hide his original sin?

Cassandra had to find out the truth, she needed to know where she belonged. Swearing to herself to confront Toby about this onslaught of information as soon as she got home, Cassandra picked up the pack of cigarettes and slid out another, deciding she needed this now more than ever.