Coming Home

Cassadee woke up the next morning to an empty bed and frowned at the empty space around her. Flipping over to the side, Cassadee gave a yell of pain when pillow sunk into her black eye. Shuffling out of the room, she was greeted with Jared who bulldozed her with a hug.

“GOD Cass, please don’t do that again. And oh, you’re not wearing a bra. Doesn’t matter. You look terrible, I feel terrible. But I’m so glad you’re okay, Derrick filled us in. CHRIST. I was so worried,” he blurted out before letting her go. Cassadee only managed a weak smile, she didn’t know what to think.

“Cass, can I talk to you for a moment?” Tobias said, Cassadee looked at him, then at Derrick. Derrick simply nodded slightly, a cup in his hands.

She joined Tobias at the stairway of Derrick’s house, in the privacy of hallowed walls.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asked, urgently.

“They took my phone,” Cassadee shrugged like it was no big deal. But it was, she just didn’t want to feel it.

She watched as Tobias fished out his phone, hit a few buttons before showing her the screen. Her face and exact whereabouts were attached to a long, private email thread and Cassadee felt her eyes widen.

“How’d they know?”

She looked at Tobias and his guilt-stricken face.

“They knew we were friends. They followed me Cass, and they tracked your phone,” Tobias muttered, shifting his feet so that he was leaning against the wall.

There was silence as Cassadee looked at him. The true danger and manipulation of whatever they were dealing with finally dawning onto her.

“You know what’s worse? Sampson won’t even make a private police report, not at this time. There’s too much at risk-“

“So, they’ll just get away Scott-free?” Cassadee asked, bringing her hands out in front of her. She watched as Tobias’s eyes flicked to her marred arms before quickly switching back to her face. He swallowed once, then nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry Cass,” he muttered.

“This isn’t about me Tobias!” She snapped. Tobias looked at her strangely.

“If it makes you feel better, I quit my job today,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing. But Cassadee could tell from his hunched shoulders and massive eye bags, that it was a big deal. A job in one of the leading political firms was tough to get, and it would’ve meant half a lifetime’s of work and effort down the drain.

“It wasn’t about service or helping the nation anymore, so I quit,” Tobias shrugged again, watching Cassadee’s arms unravel slowly around her.

“What did they tell you?” She murmured.

“That if I opened my mouth about the sick little games they made me play, I’d regret it,” he said. Cassadee gulped.

“So what are we gonna do?” He asked, looking at Cassadee. Cassadee returned his look, realizing that she had been his beacon of hope and bravery- that Tobias had simply followed in her footsteps in realizing what politics should really be about. And she owed it to him to set things right.

“You can help me,” came a voice. Both Cassadee and Tobias turned to look at Derrick, who had been listening in onto their conversation.

“You know what they say Cass, third time’s always a charm. Make sure you marry her before you guys break up again okay?” Tobias laughed weakly.

Derrick shot him a meaningful look.

“I meant both of you. We’re gonna set things right before the elections in 4 weeks. And you two, will be my management team,” Derrick smiled. There was an awkward silence before Tobias spoke up.

“Do I get paid? Cause I do need to pay rent and stuff.”

~

Cassadee turned the key open to her apartment and entered. It smelt clean- her parents had come over to help her clean the place up after Derrick called them.

“What if they know where I live?” she muttered, limping slightly into her living room. Derrick followed her, setting her stuff down at the kitchen island.

“Well, they already know where I live, if they wanted to do anything worse they would’ve done it already.”

Cassadee shuddered thinking about things that could be worse than being physically and sexually abused. Death sounded a lot easier than dealing with the aftermath.

“I should write a book about this,” she muttered. She heard Derrick laugh before he joined her on the couch.

“Maybe after things have calmed down,” he chortled, as he watched her close her eyes and lean against the back of the couch. Her bruise had faded from the greenish yellow mess it was to one that was purple.

“How long did you take to write about yesterday?” Derrick asked suddenly. Cassadee let her eyes snap open.

“I don’t know, a while I guess,” she replied.

She noticed that Derrick had fell silent next to her, his arms absent-mindedly tracing circles on the couch.

“It helps, quietens my head,” she replied, shrugging a little. Derrick wondered how many pages she had dedicated to writing about him, herself and the 5 years that had past them. He wondered if he ever wanted to read them.

“You wanna talk about it?” Derrick asked, twisting his body to face hers, wincing at the bruise on her eye. She shook her head slightly.

“If it comes back, I write about it. Then it just kind of repeats, just different versions of it.”

Derrick thought of how many different versions she had of different things that had happened. He imagined that if he read her writing, how many times he would have to relive her getting stabbed again and again. Shuddering at the thought of being haunted by such pain, Derrick wasn’t sure if he wanted to read her writing at all.

“Remember when you had more scars than me?” She smiled, a careful smile because she couldn’t grin too widely without her face hurting. Derrick looked at her, running a light finger below her bruise.

“Don’t romanticize it,” he warned. He watched her face flicker, like an old light bulb, before she looked at him again.

“I hate it you know,” Cassadee sighed, looking guiltily at her clothed legs.

“People who think that having scars make them strong,” she replied. Derrick looked at her, a strange forlorn expression crossing her face.

“You are strong,” Derrick replied, threading his fingers through hers, tucking one feet under his body.

“I’m not,” she scoffed.

“I mean you cry and stuff-“Cassadee shot him a sarcastic eye roll.

“But at the end of the day, it’s what I like about you the best,” Derrick shrugged. He felt Cassadee give him an appreciative look, squeezing his clasped hands.

“I think-“Cassadee paused, looking at his clear brown eyes before continuing again.

She leaned in to kiss him, before shrugging off the words on her tongue that weren’t coming.

“What?” Derrick asked, pulling away, watching her scrunch her nose as his lips left hers.

“I don’t know. You’re just, I don’t know. Kind of amazing, like just sometimes I feel like you’re too good to be true.”

Derrick laughed.

“Don’t flatter me. Do you remember how we met?”

“Pencil to the head.”

“Then scar to the cheek.”

“Right here,” Cassadee smiled, gesturing to a faded scar lining her cheek. The scar was so faint, that it was almost silvery on her pale skin.

“You started getting hurt only when we met,” Derrick shrugged. He had that thought inside him ever since they started dating 5 years ago, but never really had the courage to tell her.

“You only noticed that because you have this crazy messiah complex where you think you can save everyone.”

“Maybe it was just you.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended by that or not,” Cassadee laughed.

“Come on. You had me when I first went to your café.”

“Oh my god. You were attracted to my sob story.”

“Unattractively, yes.”

“I guess that’s what I hate about us,” Cassadee shrugged. She watched as Derrick frowned slightly before kissing his cheek lightly.

“But I can’t say I regret it,” she replied again, bringing her lips near his ear. He shuddered as her lips barely touched his ear lobe.

“Even after everything?” Derrick asked.

“Uh… Give or take a few,” Cassadee shrugged. Derrick laughed again before grabbing her chin and pulling her towards him.

“Let me see,” he muttered, tilting her head gently sideways so he could examine the bruise. He didn’t know why he was doing it, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it over and over again.

“I wonder how long I’ll last without wearing any make-up,” Cassadee replied without really thinking.

“Who cares, you look great anyhow.”

“Yeah right,” she scoffed and Derrick let her face go. He finally realized that no matter how he told her she was beautiful, she wouldn’t see it. Not after what she had done to her body.

“You’re 23, I think you need to give yourself a little credit for looking good.”

Cassadee just shrugged again and Derrick sighed.

“Maybe on the outside, with clothes and shit, I’m a solid 6.”

Derrick glowered at her. He could never understand what made her feel ugly- it wasn’t something that bothered him as much as it bothered her. She could be fat and really morbidly obese, and he would love her too. He had seen too many beautiful girls to be easily drawn in. But it was the ugliness that she felt from within that seemed to dim the light from her. Sure she knew she could be attractive and sexy, but she didn’t feel that way. It was a sickness that ate her up.

“You are beautiful.”

“Nope.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Ew.”

“Radiant like the sun.”

This time Cassadee just laughed, but was cut short when Derrick brushed the left side of her hair awake from her neck and kissed her bruised neck softly. Her short, speckled laugh gave way into a startled intake of air.

“Absolutely eye-catching,” Derrick murmured, relishing the scent of his shampoo that stayed in her hair and her supple skin that smelt like flowers.

“Are you seriously doing this?”

Derrick moved to the area below her ear and nipped it slightly, feeling her skin jump under his lips.

“Breath-taking.”

“Asshole.”

Derrick pushed down the collar of her shirt and kissed her shoulder as he felt her shudder under him.

~

Derrick:

I kissed her skin again and again, trying to feel and heal away the hurt inside her that wouldn’t go away for a long, long time. There is a feeling of utter bliss, when you know you’re in love and sex isn’t something that should be planned, neither should it be super jumpy.

Sex was love, and there was no difference.

After the 8th word, I was running out of adjectives, but the good news was that Cassadee wasn’t replying me anymore. All I could hear was her breathing, deep and serene as I kissed lower down her shoulder and I hoped that she wouldn’t find out that I was running out of words.

“Are you done lover boy?” She asked suddenly, earning a smirk as I gently pulled her shirt off, hearing her tiny yelp as the shirt got caught in her hair.

She wasn’t wearing a bra from the night before, and her hands came up to cover herself.

“Distractingly pretty,” I muttered, suddenly distracted by her very naked torso. I heard her breath catch, and blood rushed downwards towards my groin.

“Sure, say that when I’m half naked, douche pickle,” she commented snidely, rolling her eyes. That earned her a laugh because that was a pretty funny reply, considering that we were close to second base. Then I watched her eyes darken as I pressed her body against the hand rests of the couch, exposing more of herself to me.

I kissed the bruises that were on her ribs, hating that they were there. Watching as she breathed in deeply, and the way her skin sunk into the negative spaces below her ribs- I let my fingers run across her ribs. She was so small yet so self-destructive. And I wanted desperately to let her know that it was never worth hurting herself just to run away from the past, away from me.

Running a thumb across the jagged scars across her abdomen, those hurt the most, a part of our past that I would never get back nor would I ever get to repent for. I could only imagine the hurt so much, before I reached a part of my mind that didn’t allow me to go any further.

“Please,” she whispered, and I realised that we had been caught in the heat of the moment. I looked at her, not sure what to expect. Grabbing my hands, she crushed herself into my chest, claiming my lips.

She tasted like water, smelt like flowers.

“Forget the scars,” she whispered, pulling my shirt off. I felt blood rush downwards as I felt her coldness press against me, chests colliding, moans becoming louder. I felt her nipples harden against me, and I looped my hands through her hair- feeling the way they stopped and ended into empty air as I gently tugged her hair downwards.

But we both knew that I would never forget. Even pressed up against her, I felt the lumps of her scars against my body. And every time I pressed too hard, she would gasp, not in pleasure, but in pain.

“You have them too,” she whispered, gasping into my shoulder as I pressed my hands against her breasts.

“Boobs? No way.”

She giggled despite herself, and the trembling of her body made my manhood jerk uncomfortably in my pants.

“Don’t ruin this.”

“I was just getting started,” I muttered, gently moving my palms down her calves, down her thighs, feeling the way her skin seemed to smooth under my fingers. I felt her body quiver at every lingering of my fingers, and I smiled.

You could have sex, then you could also make love.

Then as she shuddered under me, I pushed the boxers she wore around her hips, bunching it gently around her waist. She stiffened as the cool air touched her skin gently, and I saw them.

Faint, thin scars lining the upper areas of her thighs, just before her thighs met at her hips. They were smooth, but they littered her skin the way paint splatters around after a messy paint job. She had told me that she did things to take the pain away, like a secret burden she had to bear.

Bringing my eyes to hers, I was greeted with shame. I knew she couldn’t have told anyone else about this, because she looked like she hated herself. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Don’t hate me,” she said, her body still wedged under mine, eyes focused onto mine, pleading. In a way she was a non-believer, always doubting herself. She had no idea how I would never ever hate her, and learning about her now was like peeling back layers of a new person. If she allowed me, I could take the whole day to tell her how beautiful she was after finding out new layers and new things about her. We would revisit the past, and every single time she doubted herself or hated herself, I would replace with my voice.

“Never,” I whispered hoarsely, rubbing both thumbs across the span of her self-harmed thighs. I wish they were pencil marks that I could erase, but these were permanent reminders of how she had once lost herself to the agony of her mind.

“You are beautiful,” I repeated again and again as I kissed her thighs, holding her firmly in place. I heard her breath in painfully, discomfort coursing through her at the thought of being vulnerable. I brushed my lips against her thighs gently and softly until I managed to steal her hesitant breathing and change them into restrained gasps. I felt her body stir under mine, I wanted her pain gone, wanted to give her pleasure.

Stroking her bare abdomen, I pulled her boxers off as she eyed me warily- dark blossoming of lust starting to surface. I could see her arousal building up as I inched nearer and nearer to her sex.

Then I kissed the insides of her thigh, an action that seemed to reverberate throughout her body as she shuddered and gripped onto my hand tighter. The bruises dotted the insides of her thigh, and I hated that Vincent had gotten so close to her.

As I brought my fingers to brush along her apex, she froze. Her hand on my other free hand suddenly squeezed so tight that she cut off circulation in my finger tips for a moment.

“No.”

“Please don’t,” she croaked.

Looking up at her eyes, wide with terror and shock. She couldn’t forget the previous night and I didn’t want to imagine where Vincent’s hands had been.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” I whispered, looking at her, looking straight at the panicked expression in her eyes.

“I love you, trust me.”

Then pulling the skin of her sex gently, I massaged her core, treating it like liquid gold. I felt her tense up under me, breaths getting quicker, raspier as I pressed a gentle palm against her core and went in circles. I felt her fingers leave my hand, press against my chest as she heaved. The panic left her eyes for a while, before returning again- this time mixed with pleasure and lust.

“N-No,” she whispered, but as she did her hips bucked wildly in the direction of my fingers.

“I love you,” I whispered, before enveloping her lips with mine, silencing her doubts, continuing to build the rapid fire that I had ignited inside her. I too, was aroused, but I wanted to please her, and only her this time. Self-sufficiency could wait.

I felt her convulse onto me as my fingers padded around her sex, never prodding, just gently stimulating her. I went into a dizzying craze as her moans got louder, hands wrapping tighter around my waist, trying to bridge the unfathomable distance between us.

Then as she burst and shook from the tremors of her climax, I placed a hand on her abdomen, trying to bring her back to Earth.

“Don’t be afraid,” I said, pushing myself up from her, watching her flushed cheeks rise and fall as her eyes fluttered close.

~

Derrick helped Cassadee put on new clothes and shorts before returning to the couch and lying down with her spooned inside of his body arc.

Exhausted from both the sexual encounter and the happenings of the previous day, Cassadee let her body drift into a sheltered dream, with her head settled neatly into the curves of Derrick’s neck and shoulders as they both fell asleep.