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Chapter 35

Author: Code01417
last update Last Updated: 2021-03-23 13:52:38

Crayvin

"It's alright, sir. Just make sure to follow the speed limit next time and always keep proof of insurance on you while driving." Cassandra waves the male driver off, we walk back to the unit, and hop in.

After she buckles up, she pulls her phone out and sighs.

Again. This must be the hundredth time she has done that today.

"Okay, what's up, Peanut? I have watched you look at your phone all day today and you look like my Grams when the nursing home tries to feed her applesauce. Which she despises, by the way."

She slides her phone back into her pocket, her eyes lingering over her hands that she laid against her thighs. "Has..." she begins, but stops herself for some reason. "Have you talked to Drew?" She asks.

I shake my head, "No, not really. A few texts here and there. He has been busy with therapy, and then with everything that happened, he just wanted to be alone. Why?"

She sighs and shrugs her narrow shoulders.
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  • Blinded By The Past   Chapter 75

    CassandraThe last time I sat in a therapist's lobby for the first time, I was full of disbelief, destruction, doubt, and anger. My father brought me to Dr. Loraine, so I felt forced, trapped almost. Now, I see how therapy truly works if you open yourself up to it.One year since my last therapy session with Loraine, I sit in another therapist's lobby office. While again I am here not out of personal choice, my perspective is to just finish this so that I can go back on duty."Cassandra Porsse?" I rise from the chair I had been sitting in for almost twenty minutes when a tall woman calls me."That's me," I admit nervously.With a small, genuine smile, the woman tucks a piece of her toffee blonde hair that fell from her messy bun behind her ear and extends her hand. Her clothes are sleek and professional. A huge contrast to the colorful Lorraine, she wears a black conservative two-piece suit. The skirt is knee-

  • Blinded By The Past   Chapter 74

    CassandraFat ass. Short ass. Miss Piggy. Ugly piece of lard. Fat piece of shit. Oompa Loompa.These are only some of the names my peers would call me at school. Though now homeschooled, even the distance from my tormentors wasn't enough to ease all of the damage. While leaving was some relief, the memory of how I was treated also left with me like mental scars.I hate that place. I hated it so much that I nearly made Tarra late every morning as I dragged my feet every step. Up to the point before I left, I'm surprised she didn't place Dad's cuffs around my wrists to force my ass there. But she knows why I hate it. The constant bullying, the ear-deafening cackles, skinny bitches, and asshole guys are everyday torture that I succumbed to.My weakness, my attachment to the hateful comments and treatment, is what brought me here, to Loraine's office. Last night, Tarra and Dad dropped the bomb on me tha

  • Blinded By The Past   Chapter 73

    CassandraI remember when my Dad would watch UFC fights and the loud sound of fists hitting faces and crunching bones would make me cringe.None of those fights compared to the sound Tarra made when her palm connected with Drew's cheek. The echo practically radiates through our apartment and I am eternally grateful it didn't cause Crayvin -who is still tending to the burning sauce- to come running out.Tarra's fiery gaze was enough to make me want to bunker down and cower, and I wasn't even the one on the receiving end of that glare."In case that slap across your face didn't knock some sense into your dense, Marshmallow ass, I'll repeat myself. What the fuck do you want?" Tarra spits.Drew releases a tear as he brings the palm of his hand over his now reddened cheek.Pretty sure the tear isn't from the slap though."I deserved that but look, I don't want to fight. I was hoping to have a word with Cassandra," he says and th

  • Blinded By The Past   Chapter 72

    CassandraDeath is on its own clock and I could have sworn I heard the ticking stop when the bullet struck me. I will not forget the feeling of leaving everything and everyone I love. Scared shitless, I remember frantically pulling at the hem of Crayvin's shirt as I continued to bleed out, begging for him to save me. The look he gave me still shatters me to my very core, the look that reminds me of how my near-death experience nearly broke the man that I love.Though, if given the chance to save his life, I would do it all over again.When my sister rushes to the hospital, a strong sense of guilt hits me like a tidal wave when she smacks my arm after smothering me in hugs and tears. "You sissy swore we would always be there for one another. How the fuck did you expect to stand by that promise by jumping in front of a bullet? Never. Never do that to me again, Cassandra Juliet Porsse," she demands.Tarra is eerily quiet as I am finally leav

  • Blinded By The Past   Chapter 71

    CrayvinAs a police officer, I've seen a lot of shit in the past four years. I've seen the worst in some people, a lot of bad accidents and circumstances, pure evil monstrosities where bodies were involved in a pool of blood. While some days are harder than others, four years on the force hardened me against the harsh realities, like an emotional set of armor.All those years of hardened resolve were shattered the instant two bullets pierced through the body of the woman I love.My mind is going crazy from what little sleep I don't get. A recurring nightmare makes me feel as if I am stuck on a carousel, going round and round on the highest frequency. The same dream resurfaces when I close my eyes; it's never-ending. Each time the carousel circles, I see red... blotches and blotches of red.The same red that had stained Cassandra's white top when she was shot. The same blood red that coated my hands.When we get to the hospital, Cassa

  • Blinded By The Past   Chapter 70

    Tarra"Tarra, come here my love so I can get a good look at you," my mother says in an unrecognizably brittle voice, crooking her pale finger at me and motioning for me to approach.I look at my father, who gives me a weak smile and an encouraging nod. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, smelling the sterile, nearly choking environment of my mother's confined hospital room, I rise from my chair and shuffle small strides to stand by her side. Cassandra, her eyes glossy and red, kisses Mom on the cheek, then walks away. She takes my previous seat next to Dad, burying her head into him."Mom," I croak at her bedside. "Are you going to get better?"I stare at my mother's small body and dark eyes. Her beautiful features resemble my little sister so much that the comparison hurts to acknowledge.Our mother was always beautiful, full of laughter and light. Looking at her now, I don't recognize her. Wher

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