Page 112 of As the Rain Falls
He lets the wheel go, now staring at me. I dive in, wanting to grab it, but his feet are still pressing the accelerator. The laugh that comes out of him is the most terrifying sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
“Please, stop,” I choke, not wanting to do what was asked of me.
But he doesn’t leave me any other choice.
“I’ll slow down, Cassandra. Just like you asked.”
“I…” I trail off, watching as the curve gets closer and closer.
“Say it or we die. You and I,” he laughs again, making this awful, broken sound. I hate it. “Just like she did.”
Lucia?
Why is he talking about…
“I…”
The words burn, ripping out of me like barbed wire. I barely recognize the sound of my own voice. It’s this small thing, devoid of any joy, anything good.It burns, it burns, it burns. My eyes, my chest, my stomach. I say it over and over again, my body frozen against the passenger seat. A tranquility comes with it after the third time, clarity sinking into my bones.
I wanted this.
I…
Did I want this?
Yes.
I wanted this.
Nathaniel pulls after we reach the middle of the bridge, the same one where Lucia died back in August. I ask him to stop driving. This time, he does.I get out of the car, limbs shaking. Pepé calls after me.Pepé.God, Lucia’s dog. I can hear the sound of his barking, so loud and so distinctively clear in my ears.
My lips part as I try to say something, but my mouth feels too dry. This tightness in my throat is choking me. I feel like I can’t breathe.
Can someone see me?
See how I’m not breathing?
Don’t they see how he made me stop breathing?
I try to walk a few steps, not knowing exactly where I’m going. Sick to my stomach, I barely make it to the safety railings before my knees buckle up. I fall forward, facing the same exact spot where Lucia fell all these months ago. The buzzing gets louder in my ears until I start coughing. Reflux tastes like acid on my tongue, and I close my eyes shut as he calls out my name, yelling at me to stand up and get back in the car.
Then, I throw up.
UGLY TRUTHS AND MISPLACED ANGER
Cassandra
NOVEMBER, 2016
Dad knocked on mydoor around nine-ish to ask me if I wanted something to eat. I told him that I wasn’t hungry.
It wasn’t entirely true.I did feel hungry. I felt my stomach so hollow like it was gnawing at itself, but I couldn’t bring myself toeat. The idea of trying to digest any food right sat in my stomach like a stone, making me feel sick, and now it’s too late to go to the kitchen.
Pepé is snoring at my feet, his warm body rising and falling with each breath.My room is too quiet.My thoughts are too loud.The truth is surrounding me, leaving me no space to breathe. It’s choking me, strangling me from the inside out.
I can’t stay here.
Not another year.
