Liar.

Cassie is obsessed with death. She has an infatuation with all things dark and macabre, especially human skulls. Everyone assumes that she is depressed, and maybe she is. But she doesn't like to publicize any kind of emotion to anyone. Every morning she pours two shots of Jagermeister into her orange juice, claiming that it calms her "anxiety". Another thing you should know about Cassie is that she's a liar, of course, not in a malicious way but in a way that makes her seem more interesting to the eye. So you can never be sure whether what she say's is truthful or a fabrication of her otherwise seemingly boring life.

She wear's velvet because it reminds her of Elvira and Morticia Addams, the queens of darkness - adding floral in small doses as a homage to 1990's grunge and Courtney Love. Her cross necklace is something she never takes off, her Mother scared her into Christianity from the mere age of nine - she cut all connection to her parent's when she was 19. Her heart shaped earrings were a present from her recently deceased grandmother whom had worn them in her working girl days, Cassie often thinks of all the men her grandmother had served in her prime whilst they dangle from her earlobes. Her stockings were simply a pair she had stolen from a lingerie store in the inner city, she didn't earn much money in her cafe job, though was condemned with the curse of craving luxurious items.

It was Tuesday morning when Cassie woke up and decided she wanted to quit her job, she wasn't in any position to be quitting, but she did anyway. Her rent was close to four hundred dollars a week, due to her location mostly, inner city suburbs of Melbourne were never cheap. She didn't tell anyone where she was going, she simply packed herself a small suitcase of a few dresses and other odd items and left her little house in search of better and brighter horizons.

At precisely 12:42pm Cassie met a man whom she developed an infatuation with within the first few moments of meeting. Mainly by his odd dress sense, he wore a nineteen thirties style bowler hat and a pinstripe suit, something you wouldn’t see most men in at this time of day. Let alone at Southern Cross station. They had struck up a conversation whilst looking at magazines. Cassie, whom was an avid supporter of Frankie magazine, was flicking through an issue at a newsagent when this man had seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Frankie magazine,” she heard him scoff, “Full of pretentious, elitist cunts!”

She turned her head slightly in his direction, eyeing him up and down.

“Mm, and how original of you to be flicking through Rolling Stone,” she observed, “Just like every other hipster prick in this city.”

“Oh, my dear,” he had sighed, “The difference between them and I is that I dress better!”

She had taken his sway of moods happily and laughed softly, “That’s a bold statement.” She replied lightly.

The man laughed until realizing she had taken a minor swipe at him, choosing to dismiss this little jibe, he offered her his name, Daniel.

“Nice to meet you then.” she smiled, beginning to walk off in hopes he would stop her.

“I never caught yours!” he called out, “Maybe you could tell me it over a beer?”

A beer? She’d thought. She found it seemed uncouth of a man to offer her that at only near half past midday, but she accepted nonetheless, no matter how cliché or uncouth the offer had appeared Cassie did like a beer every now and then. They traveled to the pub in near silence, the only words talked were few and it was about directions mostly, both dodging amongst the rat race of the city’s streets and onto sardine packed trams until they reached his favorite pub. Cassie couldn’t pronounce the name properly, she assumed it was foreign. However, during the venture to said pub she couldn’t get it out of her mind of how ungentlemanly the man was. Cassie didn’t appear as a woman whom would take it into consideration, though all her literature readings had fed her into the trap of thinking that men should be like the characters in Pride and Prejudice or Jane Eyre – a very naïve and ignorant assumption, especially in the 20th century.

“So, your name then?” he inquired as he sat two beers down on the little, round barrel table that stood between them.

“Alison, but most of my friend’s call me Alice anyway.” She effortlessly lied.

Daniel smiled, “Where’s your rabbit then?” he joked.

“I hate Lewis Carroll.” She said bluntly. There was only silence now. Daniel necked his remaining beer and headed for the bar again.

As Cassie watched him at the bar she felt a twang of something inside her stomach, not in a loving way but in a way where she was so very intrigued and attracted to the man that she found she couldn’t be herself. So she lied. She lied about everything in her life and strived to make him feel the same attraction back. Daniel sat and unknowingly listened to Cassie lie through her teeth for a good three or more hours. It was seemingly beginning to work, especially after Cassie bullshitted her way through family history and her English heritage. It only worked because she was so obsessed with that culture that she’d read Wikipedia pages and browsed the internet so much. It was working; he was falling into her trap.

“Where are you goin’ then?” he’d asked.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckled, “Well, you got a suitcase there. You must be going somewhere.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, trying to think of another lie to dazzle him with, “I-I’m going to England actually.”

She had done it now; she was trapped in her own trap.

“How very exciting!" he grinned, "Well then, would you mind me accompanying you to the airport then, Miss Alice?” he smirked.

Cassie was panicking; she was of course not going to England, but now what. She couldn’t reveal she had been lying to him this entire time. So she did the only thing she knew how to when her brain was racing as fast as it was to come up with an answer.

“But of course, kind sir.” She coyly smiled.

For the pair only knowing each other a few short hours it seemed extreme for Daniel to even suggest that he escorts her, but Cassie thought nothing of it. She just enjoyed the odd man’s attention and compliments. Not to mention his aesthetic, he looked like he had stepped out of an old black and white film. She was entranced.

Daniel had paid for a taxi from Flinders Street station to the airport, Cassie willingly obliged, she loved it when people spent money on her – especially men. The entire trip was spent with them talking continuously about things ranging from old film stars to Japanese food to the occasional puff on a joint – both of the two people falling more and more into the trap. Cassie was running her brain rampant trying to find an excuse for him not to enter the airport, in case he found she was not actually catching a flight to England. The two exchanged numbers in the taxi before parting ways, she wrote hers in lipstick on an old bank receipt, he in his notepad, ripping the page out and slipping it in her jacket pocket.

As Cassie exited the taxi and began walking into the terminal she felt an emotion she had not been subject to in quite some time – guilt. She didn’t know exactly what it was so she pushed it down and called every cheap motel and hostel in Melbourne’s inner city until she found a cheap one. She could survive off the remaining money in her bank account until she was expected to “return from England”. She still had her old house, but when she had left it that morning she had left it for good or at least a good few months.

Whilst taking the shuttle bus back into the city Cassie watched the unappealing sights pass by her eyes and she smiled to herself. From then on Cassie talked to Daniel every day, continuing the lies and that's how she built their relationship from there on in. She would never tell Daniel the truth, not because she was scared of his disappointment or anger, but because why would anyone like Cassie? Alice was much more interesting.