Page 80 of Cries of Cassie

Tear it apart. Set it on fire. Bury it alive. Light it up. Drop the match. Burn it to the FUCKING GROUND!!!

“ENOUGH! My love, STOP!”

Warm hands encompass my cheeks as a body presses against my stomach and chest. Warm breaths fan across my face and I feel…

“I love you. Come back to me. Please. We’re here. We love you. Don’t do this.”

Cassie. I feel Cassie.

A hard wall cradles my back, and a cool, rough hand takes the match from my shaking fingertips. Something waves the smoke away from Cassie’s face.

Cassie. I feel Cassie.

“Yes, you’re doing it. Breathe, my love. Just breathe.”

I breathe her in. Home. Safety. Future.

But this? “It needs to rot,” I rasp, blinking so I can see her face when I tell her why. “These chains, this dungeon, he made it an exact replica. It needs to die with him.”

I never told her that. That the chains weren’t the only things, and I suspect the others didn’t notice either because the focal point was Cassie hanging from a contraption I shared with our enemy.

The cement color, organization of devices, lighting style, even the goddamn chair is the fucking same. Cassie doesn’t so much as glance around to see if I’m telling the truth, but I can feel the other three stiffen in realization.

I only lasted two fucking months since getting her home before I snapped. This needs to be done, and I can’t move forward until it’s decimated. I can’t have this beneath my feet any longer. It’s her hell and my shame.

“Okay,” she breathes, bright blue eyes ping ponging between mine while she holds my face in the palm of her hands. “But not yet.”

My eyebrows slam down. “No. Now.”

She reads the desperation between the lines. “In a few minutes. But first we need to do something. Do you trust me?”

“With my heart, mind, body, and soul.” No hesitation. Everything that I am is hers.

Her eyes soften and a warm smile tugs her lips up. She’s always doing that. Acting like I’m not crazy or unhinged. “I love you, Ripley,” she reminds me now just like she did after lunch. And before breakfast, and first thing this morning. It’s the same thing every day. Unconditional love, support, and now…challenge?

“We’re going to take back our power before our club dismantles this place for us, alright?” She’s nodding with encouragement, but I can’t possibly know what she means. Cassie shouldn’t even be in here.

“Cassidy—”

Her head shakes, red hair flinging about. “Please. I need you to tie me up and⁠—”

“NO!”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

“FUCK NO!”

The others protest but I stay silent, hearing her out. She’s like me. Different. Our needs, what we can handle, bend common understanding. Hell, her best friend and Maddox were terrified she’d suffer mentally after her ordeal. She did, but it wasn’t in the expected way.

Instead of crying and breaking day in and day out, she got mad. And you know what? She channeled it all on her own with our support and suggestions.

“And what?” I prod. Whatever she needs I’ll give. No matter how fucked.

Pulling me toward the chair that I should have broken first, she holds eye contact. “Just love me. Touch me. Say sweet things. Please.”

My stomach roils when she sits in my torture chair. Don’t think about it. Don’t picture it. Don’t remember it.

When the others start to protest and rush toward her, she cuts them off. “My therapist and I talked about it. It was my idea, and she supported it. All I need is a few minutes to replace the horror, then you can take me home. I swear. Ripley and I need this. Please,” she begs Maddox, Koa, and Parker. They need it too.