Take Me Away

Day One

The sunlight flooded through the thin, white, almost silvery, curtains that attempted to filter it, though without avail. It had already awoken the young lady. Sighing, the fair-haired maiden pulled herself up, clumsily throwing her lavender polycarbonate plastic glasses over her face. She stretched, relishing the feel of the black, oval-shaped rug under her feet, immediately warming her toes. She trudged over to her mirror, taking a look at herself, before grimacing at what she saw, and trying, but failing miserably, at suppressing a shudder.

Her sandy colored hair was a living, curly mess, which looked as if it was ready to rip itself off of her head and lead a life of terror on its own. Her eyes were hidden behind her glasses, so she took them off, stepping closer to the white-framed full length mirror. Dark brown orbs peered back at her, with small flecks of gold towards the rimming, a sparkle gleaming like a twinkling star, and while they were easily her best feature, they were hidden by those blasted frames that she had come to have a love/hate relationship with; she loved the fact that she could see, she hated the fact that they hid her eyes.

Having hair so light and eyes so dark was uncommon; the eyes she’d happened to inherit from her late father, the light, curly hair that cascaded past her shoulders came from her mother, whom she’d come to remember had resembled an angel. She slipped the glasses back on her face, stepping away as she caught her reflection again. Her naturally pallid skin glowed under the faint sunlight that had captured her complexion. About 2-3 inches shorter than the normal height made a difference, so out of the people she did know, she was easily the shortest one, and the one that most resembled a porcelain doll, both inside and out. Fragile, sensitive, kind-hearted, and easily taken advantage of if thrown off guard.

Her thin, lacy nightgown was left disheveled, making her look like a clumpy heap of horribly covered limbs. Her cheeks flushed pink, which matched the acrylic coloring on her nails; a bright, not-so-dark pink. Beneath her glasses, the bridge of her nose was decorated by light reddish-brown freckles, which faded into the background and was much harder to see in the winter, as to be expected. She flicked her bangs to the right side, though it didn’t matter because they were still a tangled clump of hair that she would have to use a brush to get them apart.

Sighing, she stepped away from the mirror, digging through the cherry wood dresser for something to wear, her eyes straying to the abandoned corner of her room, beside her other window, before back at the dresser, shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of the sight and all of the thoughts that came with it. After a few minutes, she had plucked every piece of clothing she wanted for the moment and walked out, towards the only bathroom in the whole tiny house. She threw herself into the bathroom, shutting the door right behind her and stripping herself of all clothes, which then lay on the ground in a messy pile.

She hopped into the shower, letting the hot water drip down her body, trickling down her and seeping inside of herself, heating her to the very core. After using all of the hot water up, she wrapped herself tightly in a large white towel, letting herself dry off as she grabbed her hair brush and tried to untangle the heap of hair, which proved to be not as difficult of a task now that her hair was wet. When she finished taking her sweet time in the bathroom and had herself dressed, she went into her room, grabbing her stuff before descending down the stairs.

“Cassie!”

Hearing her name being called, she swiveled towards the source, propping her things by the front door like always. Cassandra, or Cassie, as she was known as, was soon in the kitchen, her older sister setting down a large plate with a mound of hash brown and scrambled eggs on the table. Breakfast. A rumbling sound echoed in the kitchen, courtesy of Cassie’s stomach. “Thanks Stacey,” she replied with a curt nod, trying to avoid too much talk as her head stayed lowered. She peered from under her eyelashes at her older sister, the 19 year old frowning. Their parents had passed a year prior, so they lived out on their own now, and her sister had to juggle parental responsibilities along with her own personal ones.

Cassie always felt a pit of guilt in her stomach over that, though today, it had been magnified a thousand times, though for a different reason, one she was intent on not revealing. Silently, Stacey gave a small smile, which faltered soon before leaving the room. The melancholy mood reappeared, now that Cassie’s head was clear. It was the summer, luckily, but her own summer was one she would willingly trade with anyone. The death of her parents had affected her, though she had only just started getting over it. The feelings and the issues piled up, though one event that affected her, and just her, had been the one to nearly push her over the edge.

Cassie sank her teeth into her lip, releasing it almost immediately as she glanced down at the plate, rapidly shoveling down all of the food. When she finished, she washed everything before placing it back in the sink, turning away as she retreated back to her room. Soon enough, she arrived and she threw the door closed before rushing to her bed, sinking into the mattress as she lied down, her head up towards the ceiling, not towards the lavender walls, her eyes squeezed shut as she demanded piece from the world. She only had to wait until this afternoon for her escape.

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Cassie looked across the vast mass of water; Willow Creek Lake. It was sparkling like a diamond under the iridescent sunlight. She picked up a charcoal pencil and began to draw. First, the fluttering birds in the trees, then the rest of the immense clearing, little by little. She bit her lip as she corrected everything she thought was too wrong to be included. She wasn't ever really satisfied with her drawings, yet she kept trying. It was a hobby, a way to express her feelings, the outer ones, and the inner ones just the same, and this whole thing was nothing more than the artistic process, as she liked to believe.

She bit down harder on her lip, a drop of something with a coppery taste of something metallic hitting her tongue. Blood. Strangely enough, it comforted her; she was so used to it, even though this habit had only started up mere weeks ago. It was one of the few things she could always depend on, regardless of the situation. Cassie had complete control over this; the fragile, though strong-willed girl had control of something. Already, she had acquired tiny scabs where her lip had dried blood on them, right in the center the cracks on her slightly chapped lips.

A loose blond strand of hair curled against the length of her jaw, so Cassie brushed it away, tucking the honey colored corkscrew curl behind her ear, still drawing. She shaded and erased, and shaded again, as it slowly formed into a picture of the clearing. She kept drawing until the sun sank, dipping far below the horizon and the moon ascending high in the sky, illuminating everything in sight as the day slowly began changing to night. She scrutinized her picture, feeling pleased at her final product. She took her supplies and the illustration, walking away from the woods, slowly getting to the outskirts, soon spotting the white house.

It laid at the center of the boundary, just at the edge of the woods on one end, just at the edge of the rest of her town—Willow Creek—on the other. Cassie quietly went inside of her house, which was eerily quiet. Just the way she liked it. She quickly slid into her room and breathed in the woodsy scent, realizing that she missed it dearly like she would a close friend. Her small ears picked up on a barely audible sound—the creaking of those old wooden stairs they probably needed to have someone professional to look at—and her older sister's dainty feet sliding across the wooden floor, padding into what she guessed was the bathroom.

“Stacey,” she desperately wanted to call to her sister. The feeling of exhaustion loomed over Cassie, like the impending doom she was bound to face in no time, so she threw off her clothing and without any hesitation, she slid a pair of pajamas onto her petite frame. She slipped under her covers just as her sister's feet shuffled back to her own room. Cassie very badly wanted to tell Stacey her secret. If Stacey knew, maybe she wouldn't feel as alone in her world of nothingness.

The undeniable longing to share this secret that hovered over her was growing harder and harder not to give into. A feeling of sickness washed over her small physique. The very feeling of this illness caused by unavoidable guilt had already began seeping into her body, pierced her pale flesh with its sharp, pointy teeth and spread until it was absorbed by her bones, trying to suck any form of truth out of her. The lies were taking over her whole life, and the worst part was, Cassie had given them the chance to spread to the point where it became one lie after another, where she could just barely differentiate the truth from the lies she’d woven into a silk web of untruths.

Cassie’s mind had once been filled with light, though now, there was a cloud that floated up above her head, raining down these horrific details that stuck to her mind like glue, repeating those particular gruesome details over and over, like a personal torture chamber that was impossible to escape from. Guilt wracked her every thought, but today, for the first time, it had affected her tremendously. It had actually sunk in, after weeks of trying to comprehend it all. It hit her like a boxer’s glove, and this time, she was the punching bag.

Confusion led her every action, none of which, she could find herself handling. She couldn’t describe what she was going through, because that would be admitting everything. Everything she regretted. Cassie no longer wanted to believe in what she had done, and what was happening to her as a result of it. A chain reaction; one event that lead to the next, pushing one domino as the rest fell right after it. Her life was spinning wayward, out of control; she was losing her grip on reality.

And this was only day one of realization. The agonizing truth would follow her every day until she said something. Those very words were things she wished she would never have to say. There were things she’d never say, and this was one of those things she wanted to bottle up and forget about, things she didn’t want to say. But if she wanted it all to stop, confessing those crimes against morals and common sense was something she would have to come to terms to doing.

Cassie crumbled into the covers, letting herself temporarily fall apart in her bed, the distraught girl still wide awake, still wracked with raging emotions.