Page 213 of As the Rain Falls
“I only took a pill,” she exhales. “I don’t think I’m high, though. I just feel weird.”
Cassandra’s hand also shifts in the same direction, probably to scratch at her skin. Our fingers brush, lightly grazing against each other. When I allude to pulling away, she grabs my wrist, her nails leaving half-crescent marks on me.
“Baby, you’re shaking,” I gasp, bringing her hand to my lips and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Do you still feel like throwing up?”
She sighs softly at the use of the pet name, a little sad sound that sets me on edge. I’m too aware of her mood shifting for the worse, and I don’t like it. I want to fix whatever is bothering her.
“I don’t know,” Cassandra cries. “I think I’m nervous too.”
I let the car die again, not caring if we’re parked in the middle of the street. It’s all empty anyway.
“Alright, tell me what the hell happened,” I ask, my voice quieter now. “Who hurt you?”
“Nothing.”
“Cassandra,” I press. “If someone did something to you, I’m driving back right now.”
“I’m fine. I’m just really nervous and sick,” she promises, gripping my hand a little tighter. “Can we just breathe for a second?”
“Breathe?”
“Yeah,” she looks at me hesitantly and sighs. “Just breathe.”
I nod, and we spend the next five minutes or so breathing. It doesn’t help. Cassandra closes her eyes shut and faces the road ahead of us, but I hear the sound of her breath catching in her throat as she starts hyperventilating.
“Beckett?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s going to tell her.”
Then, suddenly, everything darkens right as I’m about to say something. The power goes out, shutting the entire street down.
STRUGGLING WITH DISSOCIATON
DECEMBER, 2016
“He’s going to tellher.”
All I can hear is the sound of Cassandra’s heavy breathing keeping me grounded, my own thoughts too scattered, trying to piece the whole night back together and figure out what happened to her.
I flick the headlights right on time to see her break down, her face twisting in pain.The sight makes me feel worried. I wet my lips quickly and ask.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Caleb and Maria,” she whispers, trying to hide her face from me. “I swear I was the one to break things off. You have to believe me, Beckett.”
“That’s—”
Too much information.
I take in a sharp breath.
“Okay.”
“God!” she starts sobbing quietly, bracing herself, making those painful sounds I’m starting to hate. “I don’t want you to think I’m a slut!”
“Hey, no, no, no,” I whisper, shifting in my seat and reaching for her hands. I find them again, cold and trembling, and intertwine our fingers together. “I’m not thinking about anything, baby. Ever, okay?”
