Finding My Way Home

I can barley create cognitive thoughts. Everything is fragmented, never once forming a sentence. The initial shock still hasn't worn off. I feel like everything I have believed up until this point has been a lie. Nothing is what it was supposed to be. I was healing, moving on. Finally, I was fixing myself, the pain was subsiding. Just like that I was thrown into the heart of the storm again. I'm felling every emotion. The two most predominate being love and hate. I was so in love with her growing up, and looking at her today took my breath away. The slight flares of the old Cassie in her personality reminded me exactly why I loved her. The black hair is definitely an adjustment, but it makes her look just as beautiful. As much as I love her natural beauty, the makeup made her look stunning. She looked powerful, and fierce. Despite being shaky, she had some new confidence. She intimidated Angie without really trying, and Angie knew it. It almost seemed as if girls cowered as she walked by. She demanded the attention of every man in the room, married or not, and she could take any of them away. Other women knew it to, just hoping their man wouldn't fall victim to her charms. While Cassie/Elizabeth would never cheat with anyone, other people didn't know that. Just looking at her I know she doesn't understand the effect she has men.

I hated her at the same time. I hated her because I spent so much time dwelling on her and she wasn't dead. I loved her so much, and she wouldn't come fore me. I would have gone through hell on earth to get her back, and she decides to remove herself from my life for good. What was that note all about? She just promises to explain everything to me as if nothing happened? As if I didn't think she was dead for all of these years? What right does she have? Her boyfriend was another thing that infuriated me. She felt it was okay to move on? Maybe I'm just being overly protective as usual. Even tough she isn't mine anymore, the though of her boyfriend touching her makes me want to punch a hole through the wall. The sight of men drooling over her in the restaurant also made want to beat the hell out of them. I wanted her for myself, never to be touched by anyone else, but she isn't mine anymore.

I look over at Angie in the passenger seat of the car while driving home from dinner. She's awfully quiet considering she just met her new stepfather and stepsister. I want to know what she thought of Cassie/Elizabeth, yet I'm almost afraid she won't like her. I study her face for a moment. her eyes look tired, lips pulled into a thin line; overall a confusing look on her face.

"What did you think of Gregore?" I ask her.

"Seems like my mom's type, rich and a dry personality." Angela replies oozing with sarcasm.

"And Elizabeth?" I as nervously.

"Can I be honest?" she rebbudles.

"Yea, she is your stepsister..." I trail off.

"I think she's a bitch." she says matter-of-factly.

"Why? I thought she was very nice." I argue In Elizabeth's defense. It kills me to call her Elizabeth, but I'm tying because that's obviously what she wants to be called.

"She's just a stuck up rich girl. She's daddy's little girl who could do no wrong in his eyes. She flaunts the fact she's somewhat pretty in you face. Her personality is horrible, and she acted to good for me. I'm going to college! Just because she went to some university doesn't means she's any better than I am! I just hate her already!" Angela practically screams, acting like a little girl.

"You don't even know her!" I protest. This is my best friend, my Cassie, how dare she say something like that about her. Elizabeth was nice enough to her.

"I don't need to! She's a bitch, and you're my boyfriend so stop defending her. You don't even know her!" She yells back at me glaring. She stares at me for a second then looks out the car window. That's when reality sinks in. I really don't know her. Her name is Elizabeth Jacobs, and she's dating somebody named Mathew. She's not Cassandra Laurent, bubbly and sweet best friend of Sidney Crosby. She's cold and dead inside, and it hurts. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes, and she's disgustingly skinny. She's not who I think she is anymore. She's someone else entirely. I want to know her, I want to be able to confide in her again. I want to tell her all of my problems, and she'll fix them all and make me feel better. She'll make me laugh because she loves me and that will never change. She will be this amazingly awkward book nerd, and I will love every bit of it. But she's not, she's like a statue now. Cold and unemotional. Saying things that people want to hear, not what she wants to say. Sitting there lifeless, not speaking unless spoken to. I don't recognize her anymore.

Cassandra Laurent isn't here anymore, its just her shell with Elizabeth Jacobs living inside.