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Chapter 71
Crayvin
As 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, CassaRelated chapters
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 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 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 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 1
CassandraHave you ever been so publicly humiliated and embarrassed, that you wish you could crawl under your bed and hide?Well, me too, but there's no way my fat ass would fit under the bed. Or, at least, that's what the entire student body likes to inform me. Let me catch you up on what I mean by going back six hours before I met a new revelation that changed my entire life.Six hours earlier..."Is that what you're wearing to school?" My older sister Tarra asks me as I step into the kitchen.I look down at my outfit choice. My eyes take in my cream-colored, loose-fitting sweatshirt, baby blue sweatpants, and tennis shoes. To my dismay, this is about the only type of clothing that I have left that fits me. I slouch my shoulders and lower my head as I take a seat at the breakfast table, grabbing the box of frosted flakes and pouring them into my cereal bowl."Tarra, leave your sister a
Blinded By The Past Chapter 2
CassandraSeven years later..."Tarra, we have to go!" I yell, knocking on the door of our shared bathroom.I hear the click of the lock and Tarra opens the door. "Alright, alright. I'm ready, let's go." She says with a big grin, her right hand resting on her hip while her left-hand grasps the doorknob.She steps out of the bathroom in a cute, white, patterned chiffon dress that rests just at her mid-thigh, brown wedges, a brown belt around her tiny waist, and a denim jacket to complete the look. Her hair falls to the middle of her back in loose waves."How do I look?" She asks me, a small smile pulls at her lips as she spins on her heel.We finally start to leave and I grab my keys from the key rack that hangs just to the right of our front door to our apartment.
Blinded By The Past Chapter 3
CassandraI dig my hands into the pockets of my gray sweatpants, anxiously waiting to be called on. I keep my head down and dig my heel into the damp dirt, marking my white sneakers. The obnoxious sing-song voices of my peers and the loud noise emitting from Mr. Ronaldo's whistle is all I can hear in this entire damn field.Why soccer? Can't we do something else for physical education?"Cassandra!" Crayvin calls out with a raucous voice. His brows furrow when I look up and make eye contact. The eyes I used to admire are cold and calculating as a slight close-lipped smile grows on his face. I cringe at the smugness that radiates from the condescending douche.Fidgeting with my short fingers against the inside material of my sweatpants, I shift glances around the field, and my eyes widen when I realize why he called my name. Everyone was chosen for teams and I, like always, am the last pick of the crop.
Blinded By The Past Chapter 4
CassandraEvery morning of mine is the same. I wake up at 5:00, workout, drink coffee, shower, eat a light breakfast, and then begin my day.Today is an exception.I extend my arm out, turning off my alarm at exactly 5:00. The bright red numbers blink on the clock and remind me that today is Monday. And not just any Monday, today is my first day of work. I get out of my soft, queen-sized bed and open the blinds. The sunlight brings warmth into my room and shines onto my thin blue line American flag comforter and matching pillows. The light immediately brightens my small room with gray walls and a white border frame. Besides the one picture that adorns my wall, my wall is a blank canvas. I have never really liked photos because of my past and I would rather not have a daily reminder plastered on my wall that I was once overweight.I walk to the right side of the bed and look up at the one picture hanging on
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