Reasons for Recovery
by
Blair Burden
Text copyright © 2010 by Blair Burden
This novel is based on the novella ‘Reasons on My Wrist’
All rights reserved. Expert as permitted under the U.S Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the author.
Smashwords Edition
There is no paperback version of this book as of 2011. This book is FREE and if you were charged for this book, it was done illegally.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and are based on characters 18 years or older. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Reasons for Recovery: a novel / Blair Burden
Summary: A teen who suffers from cutting feels as though her life is being controlled by those who are not relevant to her life anymore. She goes through a love triangle, deaths, and saving a life to finally realize her purpose.
My website: here
Contents
Prologue
Life is so beautiful when you are looking in.
Those who wear smiles are the only ones that are living life.
So I thought.
Those who wear smiles are hiding barriers because they know that there is a sun.
A new sun, the next day, telling them you may start over.
Now I smile.
August 1
“I’m leaving!” I slammed open the door for the millionth time and ran toward my car. I could hear Mama groaning and her slippers sliding across the kitchen floor after me. With rickety hands, I turned my radio up as loud as it could go and began to cry.
“Where are you going to go?” Mama shouted from the dirty kitchen window.
“Mandy’s house,” I sobbed.
We both grew quiet and Mama came outside, dragging her feet in the lawn. She tightened her robe and said, “Come inside. Just come inside!”
I ignored Mama and pulled out a picture of Mandy and I from my wallet. She was beautiful, with dark brown eyes. Her golden curly hair that went in all directions and the tiny gap in her teeth was like perfection in my eyes.
I felt Mama’s cold hand on my arm. “Cassie, let’s go inside and we can talk about this.”
I rubbed my swollen eye and unlocked my door. “I don’t want to hear it Mama.”
“I won’t talk about it. I promise,” she smiled and pulled me out the car. She held my hand and walked me inside the house.
Stubborn like always, I stood in the doorway with my body tensed. Cracked wine bottles were everywhere, hair was throughout the hall, and water spilled on the wooden tiles. Just because of two words—
“The baby can sleep in the bed with you because you know there is no way I can afford a crib with my waitress job. And you’re gonna have to breastfeed—”
“Mama, just shut up! You said you weren’t going to talk about it.”
“I said I wasn’t going to talk about Mandy. We haven’t even discussed our plans for the baby.”
“Mama, you said—”
With her lips quivering, she walked over to me and held me tight. My tears came like a shower and I began to choke on my saliva. She held me tighter and tighter, until I could not breathe anymore. In shock, I pushed her body away from mine.
“What are you doing?” I snapped.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You were trying to hurt me…no…you were trying to hurt the baby.”
“I know what is best,” she said. “Mama always knows best.”
I rolled my eyes and before she could stop me, I ran out the front door for the millionth and one time. I threw my bag in the backseat, turned up my radio, and sped down the street.
Mother knows best? Really. She doesn’t know anything. Look how I turned out, I thought. As I continued to cry, I drove off to the place I despised the most—my job at the bowling center. Despised, because no one liked me there, but even more was that I lived in a small town in Idaho. And since it was a small town, everyone knew everyone. And everyone knew me.
I was not the smart kid, the cool kid, or not even the pretty kid. No one said, “Oh, your Valeria’s beautiful daughter.” Instead, it was more like “Oh, you’re the girl that was in the hospital.” Not until now, it never bothered me. I had Mandy, but she is obviously not here anymore. Police found her body earlier this week –decapitated in a dumpster, far in the woods. She was a teen statistic, which the media leeched off. It sickened me to think about it, but even worse, it sickened me because I was the one to blame.
As I parked, I hid down in my seat as I spotted the second thing I despised most. However, I forgot, everyone knew me. You could spot my one-hundred dollar wreck a mile away.
“Cassidy! Cassie!”
“Mark, I really don’t want to talk to you,” I snapped as I got out the car.
“What did Valeria say?” he said as he grabbed my hand. “I’m not in trouble am I?”
I snatched my hand from his and pushed him back, “I said I don’t want to talk about this!”
“If my mom finds out about the baby or if anyone does I can go to jail. Please don’t let me go to jail—”
“I didn’t tell her about you. I told her I was pregnant and you can guess what happened.”
“What happened?” he said.
“Look at my eye, Mark,” I said.
“Did she punch you?”
“Even worse she tried to squeeze me to death,” I sighed, “she is a psycho.”
Mark sighed and nervously cleaned his glasses. “Well, Cassie I’m sorry. I need to get back to work. Boss is angry that you’re late. You better hurry inside.”
I rolled my eyes as I watched him go back inside. He always felt anxious when he felt like someone was watching him walk, so he would let his tall slender frame wobble like noodles. He was already gawky looking, with his big curly hair and pale skin, and him walking like that just made him seem more peculiar.
So, should I tell him or should you?
I gasped and looked back at my car. “Mandy?”
I saw your dad. He looks younger. He is mad at you though. You let everyone get away with things.
“Mandy, leave me alone!” I began to walk faster toward the front entrance.
I thought we were best friends. However, you let me just die there. You are not a good friend. You should kill yourself.
“STOP IT!”
“Cassidy White, are you okay?” said my boss, Jeffery. “I didn’t expect you to be back at work so soon.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered as my eyes began to tear up. “Mark said you were mad at me because I’m late.”
“No, I don’t think you should be here—”
“Jeff, I’m fine. I need to get out of that house. What do you need me to do?”
“Um, well Stacy left early, so you can take her shift and go get orders from anyone down there bowling. Put your work uniform on and get going.”
I swallowed and went to the staff room in the back. As usual, no one was back there. I rather wished someone was back there—just so I could feel sane for one minute. I began to hyperventilate as I thought about Mandy. She was the last person I wanted to think about—Mandy.
You look great, Mandy said. You’re not fat yet. Trust me, no one will know you’re pregnant with Mark’s baby. No one will tease you. Hints, I’m being sarcastic. Everyone will call you a fat slut.
“Mandy, just leave me alone,” I whispered. “Just please leave me alone, okay?” I stiffened my body and headed to the staff room exit. I paused as I listened—
“She is talking to herself,” I overheard Mark say. “She keeps talking to Mandy.”
“I know,” Jeff said. “I don’t think she should be here—pregnant and all crazy like that.”
“She must be going insane. Her best friend is dead and everyone is blaming her.”
“Yeah, I would talk to myself too—”
“You guys stop it,” I snapped as I walked into the room with them. “I’m fine.”
“Cassie, you should just go home.”
“Today is our most busy night, I will stay here—pregnant and all crazy,” I snapped and continued walking out to the bowling area.
I held my breath as I spotted the group of teens that made my life hell—the Rat Pack. Hate is a strong word, but I truly hated them. Leather jackets, long dark hair, skinny jeans, and biker boots. I did not consider them the cool Rat Pack like from the sixties. They were the complete opposite—annoying was an understatement.
However, skanky girls treated them like royalty. As if, they invented coolness. Just looking at them made me feel like I had an STD (which I didn’t).
“Do you guys want to order any—”
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mandy’s shadow,” Kyle, the most annoying and tallest one said. “Wait, if you’re here, then where is Mandy?”
“Dude, Mandy is dead,” Sam, the second most annoying one said. “Let’s not bring Mandy into this.”
I rolled my eyes and thought about punching Kyle in his face and knocking out his stupid brown eye contacts. Then, I would grab his sandy brown hair and slam his head into the floor. That would not be all. I would save the rest for Sam who was the same height as me and probably weighed ninety pounds—
A paper ball bounced off my nose and I turned blue. “Who threw that?”
Kyle pointed at Jordan who probably looked the most decent out of all of them. He reminded me of the cute 90s actors. I probably wouldn’t harm him because he never bothered me much. He just always stared at me—crazier than everyone else did.
“Did you want anything to order or NOT?” I snapped.
“No!” Sam said.
“I don’t want anything,” Jordan said.
“No, I don’t want anything from you,” Kyle said. “You might spit in my food.”
“Ooh, I’m way ahead of you,” I smirked and walked over to the next booth. I ran my hands through my hair tensely as I waited for the next group of people to recognize me—Cassie the crazy girl.
“Hi!” said a young girl. “You’re Cassie, right?”
See, everyone knows who you are because of me, Mandy said. You should thank me.
“Just shut up!” I said.
“Excuse me?” said who seemed to be the mother of the girl.
“Oh, I’m sorry…I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Then, who were you talking to? My daughter, if so I will have to write you up to your boss.”
“No, I wasn’t talking to her either.”
“Then, who were you talking to?”
“Marla, just leave her alone,” said a man who was sitting next to her, who I assumed was her boyfriend or son—much too young and handsome to be her husband.
“Yeah, mom you’re so embarrassing. I’m going to go to school with these people in this room in a few months. You can’t keep embarrassing me like this.”
“Karen, just be quiet,” she said.
“Do you guys want something or not?” I snapped.
“No, not from you,” Marla said.
“Join the club,” I muttered under my breath and walked away.
You know everyone just thinks you are crazy. Why don’t you just do it already? Just kill yourself. You will be helping Mama, me, and everyone else—
“I can’t do this. I quit,” I said to Jeff and handed him the menu.
“But Cassie—”
“I can’t handle it anymore,” I cried. “Do you know how hard it is for me? Everyone thinks I killed my best friend and I just keep hearing her talk to me and yell at me. Now I’m pregnant. I’m only going to be a senior in high school and I’m pregnant.”
“But Cas—”
“I have to go.” I walked out the bowling center in tears.
My stomach was aching so much from all the crying I did daily. I was crying since I was in ninth grade. Ever since my father died from cancer, I had been crying. Then, when I thought I didn’t have enough tears, more came like a river when Mandy passed away.
I sat in my car with the radio turned on full blast. I dug around my full handbag and searched for my shiny best friend. He was so beautiful in my palms—clean and glass like. The cold silver was like perfection as it touched my warm skin. I knew I hit the right spot when I began to feel faint and my heart began to race. I shut my eyes and drifted back to the day when everything felt normal. But, yet everything was so wrong…
Mandy had just blew me off for her boyfriend who was twenty-six. She met him at a frat party, where she and he obviously did not belong.
“He is only twenty-two,” she always said.
“Really,” I had said. “He looks about thirty.”
“You’re just a jealous bitch.”
However, anyone in their right mind could see he was going on thirty, and not the good kind of thirty. His skin had a nasty dirty stained color to it and his hair was turning grayer every day. Everyone had suspicions of him. Including her family, so she lied. She claimed that I introduced them and she dated him out of pity. Of course, I covered for her—she was my best friend. I didn’t think it was a big deal, well not until I started seeing less and less of her. She also started turning mean, like real mean. She never called me a loser, fat, or ugly until she began dating him. She would tell me to kill myself because no one cared for me and she taught me how to self-harm and do drugs to end my life. It sucked because that was the only way I remembered her—as the awful best friend who did me wrong.
After a memorial for my father, I called Mandy. She would not answer so I assumed she was mad at me like usual. However, the night went on and her family called me and said she did not come home. I shrugged it off and said, “I really don’t care where she is.” It did not sound bad to me but later those words would haunt me.
Police found her body this week—everyone blamed me. They blamed me because I “introduced” her to that guy and apparently I knew about the murder. However, I knew as much as everyone else. And all I got is everyone yelling at me and voices in my head telling me I was unworthy. I just wanted to remember Mandy as if she did not exist. I didn’t want to remember all our late night phone calls, our slumber parties, our window shopping, and every laugh we shared. I did not want to remember her because when I thought of her, I thought of evil.
August 2
I awoke on my bed, which really was not a bed at all, but a mattress on the floor. I listened to Mama as she sipped her coffee in the other room. How did I get home? I thought.
Dressed in her work uniform, Mama stood in my doorway. “What were you thinking?”
“What do you mean,” I said.
“You’re cutting yourself again. I thought you were over that faze. Mandy would always catch you and she would be the one to help—”
“Can we not talk about her?”
“You can’t act like she didn’t exist.”
“I can and I will. You do the same with daddy.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Exactly. So let’s not bring her name up, ever.”
“So, you quit your job.”
“How did you know that?”
“Why? We needed that extra cash.”
“I don’t know.”
Mama walked out the room and I heard her open the front door to leave for work. As I stood up, I noticed a spot of blood. “Mama!” I shouted and ran to the door. “Mama!” I was too late as she sped off down the street.
I went back into my room and unwrapped my arm that was blood free. Then, I pulled off my pants and blood slid down my thighs. I began to breathe heavy as I ran into the bathroom.
I dialed Mark’s number on my cell phone but as expected, he did not answer. He never answered the phone when I tried to contact him. I tried Mama’s number but I forgot she could not afford her month’s bill. I threw my phone down onto the floor and stripped down. I noticed a bruise on my stomach—a fresh bruise. I touched it and the pain was like pulling off a fresh scab. The first thought that came to mind was Mama. Mama would be the only woman atrocious enough to do such a thing to her daughter. I mean, if she could do it to her husband, she did not care much about me.
It was not a rumor; it was a fact that she was cold-hearted. Mama killed my father. I know she planned it because she couldn’t afford him anymore. He was diagnosed with severe lung cancer when I was in ninth grade. As my grades slipped, his condition deteriorated as well. As he deteriorated, Mama became more demented. So, to help herself out, she slipped a little of her “magic” into his water and within ten minutes daddy died right here in our living room. Detectives were not suspicious because my father only had months to live. She got away with murder and she sold her soul.
I told you she was evil. You need to get away from her. You need to do it soon, daddy said.
“But I can’t,” I cried. “I can’t get away from her.”
You have to, baby girl.
I began to get weaker as more blood began to flow out. I crawled over to my bed and wrapped myself in my blankets—not caring if I would wake up in the morning or not.
***
I tried to open my eyes as I felt a tugging at my sheets. I felt my head snap back and with all my force, I opened my eyes wide.
“What are you doing?” Mama shouted. “Why are you laying here like this?”
With the little energy I had, I grabbed Mama’s wrist and pushed her off me. “Get away from me!”
Mama jumped on my chest with her one-hundred and fifty pounds and began to pick at my eyelids. “You think you can leave me?”
“Leave me alone!” I pushed her back in the chest, causing her to collapse onto the hardwood tiles. “You’re a sick demented woman.”
Mama ran toward me and gently stationed her hands around my neck. Then, with all her strength, she tightened them until I saw stars. Her eyes met mine and all I could see was a bad soul wanting help.
“I’m sorry,” she cried and unloosened her hands from my neck. “It’s just you make me so mad!”
Trying to get my breath back, I reached for my phone to call 911. With her tennis shoes, she kicked it away and pushed me back onto the bed.
“I love you, Cassie.” She held me down as she wrapped me in the blankets and she rocked me as if I were a child.
August 8
Mama had her hands on the steering wheel, waiting for me to buckle in. “You didn’t tell them anything about me…about us, did you?”
“No, Mama,” I whispered as I strapped myself in.
“It’s just baby fights we get into. I’m just so angry and I have no one to take the anger out on. I just feel like I’m losing control of you. You’re going to be a senior, then who knows. I just didn’t want you to ruin your life with a baby. I know Mandy is gone but I will help you.”
“Mama, I really don’t care right now,” I muttered.
With a gentle smile, Mama started the car engine and drove off from the hospital where I spent about six days recuperating after losing the baby. I know I should have told social services about what and how it happened but who knew what they would do to me. I did not have family, so I would be a foster child—an old foster child.
It was not the first time Mama and I got into a fight. We did not have typical mother-daughter fights. We had full on street brawls and skin would shed in our fights—it was repulsive.
“Did you tell whoever the baby’s father that we lost it?” Mama said in a content tone.
“It doesn’t really matter.”
“Cassie, stop being so damn moody.”
“I’m moody?”
“Yes!”
“Well, I learned it from you. I have nothing to be happy about. Name one thing I should be happy about.”
“That you’re alive.”
“I’d rather not be.”
“You’re always just so anal about everything.”
Every since I could remember I was anal—about life, living, breathing—everything. For seventeen years of my life, I had no real friends. I did not know why I rubbed people the wrong way. I did not look like a freak; I did not have eccentric piercings or wild tattoos. I looked just as great as or even better than the “cool” kids did at my school. And notice I’m being sarcastic when I say “cool.”
Mama said she loved my green eyes because they were so random. When I was born, she knew my green eyes would seduce any man. That was odd for her to think that way about me when I was born—but she knew it. My hair color was odd too; I did not know if it was brown, black, or red. It had its days of bad hair—but it was manageable. Mama hated my hair because I never had a haircut before. She did not understand that my hair was like a shield for me. It went down to my mid-waist and did not have split ends. It was something I controlled. Something I loved—something that obeyed me.
I had my mom’s pink full lips, which I hated because it looked as if I always had lipstick on with tons of collagen injections. I had people come up to me and ask who my plastic surgeon was—unusual, but funny at times.
My skin color was a lot duller than it should have naturally been. I avoided sun because I avoided life. I spent seventy-five percent of my life in my room and the other percent at school—and apparently, I loved every minute of it.
“I just wish we got along better. You know, ever since my diagnosis,” Mama said, snapping me out my daydream.
“Mama, let’s—”
“I know, let’s not talk about it—like always.”
Mama parked the car outside the house and stared at me with her wide eyes. As she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, I shoved her away and got out the car before she could speak.
“Don’t do this to me,” I snapped. “We will never be the same.”
Make her apologize to me. Make her tell the truth then leave her. You have to leave her, daddy said. Just leave her now. Please, Cassie or she will hurt you. Just leave. Please leave! Come with me, Cassie. We can be together. Mama does not need you. She does not love you like I do.
“Stop it!” I screamed.
Typical, to run away from everything, Mandy said. You’re such a loser. If you were my real best friend, you would not have lied to my parents about my boyfriend. And I would still be alive. So, you killed me! You killed me!
“Go AWAY!” I cried. “Just leave!”
You let Mama poison me. And you didn’t get me justice. How could you, Cassie? I thought you loved me! Let me rest in peace by her telling me the truth!
“Stop! Stop it!” I screamed.
Mama came running after me as I collapsed to the lawn with my hands over my ears. Tears blurred my vision, as she pulled me into her chest.
“What is wrong, Cassie?” Mama said. “Baby, speak to me!”
“Make them stop. Make them stop talking to me!” I cried. “Please, make them stop!”
“Make who stop?”
“Mandy and daddy.”
“Oh, Cassie,” she sobbed. “Come on, let's go inside. I love you, Cassie. You're all I have.”
Mama pulled me inside our trashy home. Wondering what her motives were, I followed her into the bathroom where she dug around for a brush.
With my eyes still on her, I blew my nose, disgusted by the green snot. I flushed it in the toilet and Mama nodded for me to sit on the floor.
“Like old times, I want to brush your hair,” she said.
“Okay,” I muttered as I leaned my head onto her lap.
Mama learned a coping technique six years ago from an infomercial, which involved taking deep breaths while brushing hair. I did not understand why she would always ask to brush my hair when she was upset, not until I was a little older. I tried the same technique on myself and on a dog I once had—however, it didn't work for me.
“I think we should get you help.” Mama brushed my hair more rough than usual as she sang to me. “All we have is each other.”
I pulled back on my hair as she tugged harder. “Ouch, you’re hurting my scalp.”
She ignored me, “And these voices, how long have they been coming,” she whispered as she put the brush down and began to stroke my hair.
“A while now. Well, Mandy’s just started.”
“And what are they saying?”
“Evil things.”
“Evil?”
“Yes, Mama…evil.”
“Like what.”
“How I should leave you and kill myself.”
Mama pulled me in closer and hugged me tight. “Should I get you help? This is serious.”
I chuckled, “Like we can afford help. I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine. You’ve been through a lot this past year. Maybe you shouldn’t go back to school in a few weeks. You can do home studies with me.”
“No, I want to go to school.”
“But why?”
“Do you want me to be honest?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I would like to get as far away from you as I can.”
“But, I don't understand,” she gasped.
“It’s not that I don’t love you, but you’re making me worse.”
“Go put your shoes back on,” Mama said as she walked out the bathroom. “NOW!”
“Why?” I said uneasily.
“We need to go school shopping.”
I obeyed her, afraid she would snap at me. I took longer than usual trying to find my old black boots, thinking of what if this was THE night—the night where she would end it all and I would be headline news. I always had a vision of Mama snapping one day on me, I assumed I watched The Shining too many times.
I rushed out my room as I heard Mama get into her car. She had a comforting expression as she unlocked the passenger side. She did not have those new fancy cars with the automatic car lock—she leaned over and unlocked it with her hand.
With my eyes on my legs, that hadn't been shaven in a few weeks, I fastened my seat belt. Mama stayed quiet as she drove off toward the town's only mall. The tension built as the seconds went on. I bet she was wondering what was on my mind, because all I could think of were her motives.
With a smile, she pulled up next to the curb and nodded for me to get out.
“You can’t park here,” I said. “This is illegal parking.”
“Calm down, grandma,” she said as she dug around her bra. “I'm not parking here.”
“You’re not coming in with me?”
“No, here take this money and spend as much as you need,” she whispered. “It's not like you want to be seen with me anyway.”
I grabbed the roll of cash and stared at her in disbelief. “Where did you get this cash from?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just take it like any other teenager would. I love you, Cassie.”
I looked at Mama as she waited for my response back, but I slammed open the door. “Bye Mama.”
She sighed, “I love you Cassie.”
“Bye Mama,” I said again and walked toward the mall, ignoring her. As I headed into the main entrance, I bumped into the back of a girl’s head.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Ouch,” the girl said and turned to face me. “Oh, you’re Cassie.”
“Um, yeah…”
“I’m Karen,” she smiled. “We met at the bowling center a few days ago. I’m sorry about my mother; she is a pain sometime.”
“How’d you know my name?”
“You had a name tag. I go there every weekend and like every other person you don’t remember me.”
“I remember you,” I said and continued to walk. “I just have a lot going on.”
“So, you go to Simon High?” she said as she walked next to me.
“Yes, I’m going to be a senior.”
“How cool! I’m going to be in ninth grade.”
“Eh, I hate that year.”
“Why? Was it hard?”
“No…it wasn’t hard, it was just personal stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing Carmen—”
“My name is Karen.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll let you go have fun…I’m just school shopping.”
“Ooh, what happened to your arm? Did you fall?” she asked with all innocence.
“No.”
“What happened then?”
“I cut myself.”
“Ooh was it with those sharp belts that you get from—”
“No I intentionally did it,” I muttered.
“But, why would you do that.”
“I had a friend who taught me to do it and—”
“Who, Mandy Perez?”
“How do you know Mandy?” I gasped.
“My mom works with her mom. It sucks she died.”
“Um, you’re mom’s a nurse?”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s why she looked familiar.”
“What happened to your baby? I thought you were pregnant.”
“Okay, I don’t know who you are, but you’re freaking me out. How do you know so much about me?”
“You’re freaking Cassie White. Everyone knows about you and your mother’s night job…if you know what I mean,” she winked. “And your dad was a professor. Sorry about him and…”
“How do you know about my mom,” I snapped.
“Was it a secret?”
“So, everyone knows about what she has?”
“Um…yeah?”
“You know about the STD?”
“Um…no…are we talking about the same thing?” she giggled. “I won’t tell…I promise.”
“Eh, I have to go.” I shook my head in confusion and walked in the opposite direction of Karen.
No wonder she said no one noticed her because she was the size of a twelve year old. Although, she was a pretty teen—nothing too mesmerizing. She looked sort of mixed race with her strawberry-blondish short curly hair and heart-shaped face. Her parents did not look mix so I didn’t even want to ask about her ethnicity.
“Wait…here is my phone number if you need me,” Karen said.
I stared at her with a blank expression, thinking why she would want to be friends with me. Well, who said she wanted to be my friend anyway. “Okay, I guess I’ll call you if I need you,” I said.
“Or if you just want to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Like your day or something.”
“Why would you want to hear about my day?”
“Hmm, that’s what girlfriends do,” she laughed. “Not the ones that date, but the friend ones.”
August 9
I tried squeezing my hips into a size two when I knew I really was a size five. Mama knocked on the bathroom door for the fifth time as I tried to ignore her.
“Are you okay in there? Did you find all the outfits for school that you needed?” she yelled through the door as if she were speaking through five thick walls.
“Yes, Mama,” I screamed.
“Why do you have the door locked?”
I slammed open the door, catching her toe on the edge. “For privacy. Do you mind?”
“Yes, I mind. I don’t think you should be locking my doors,” she said.
“I paid last month’s rent, so this house is just as much mine.”
“I don’t think so. It doesn’t work that way,” she snapped and snatched me up.
I tried holding my body back as she pulled me toward the living room. “Mama, I’m not starting this with you. Leave me alone!”
“Cassidy, stop it.” With her firm right hand, she shoved me to the floor and began to kick me for no apparent reason.
“Why are you doing this?” I cried as I tried to push her away.
“Because I love you,” she snapped.
As she began to kick harder, I grabbed her left foot and pushed her back onto her behind. That probably did not hurt her much, since her butt was humungous. She faked as if she were in pain and kicked the air.
“I will call the police on you for child abuse!” I said. “Don't think I won't do it!”
She began to laugh as she dusted off her blouse. “Oh, Cassie you’re not a child anymore. This is why I’m doing this to you—to set boundaries.”
“Mama you’re crazy!” I screamed as I ran back into my room. I slammed it shut and locked it while listening to Mama hum her favorite tune.
Something was wrong with that woman. Things had gotten worse with Mama the more time went on. After daddy’s death, everything just went downhill and she became so psychotic. If she was not beating or yelling at me, she was trying her best to what it seemed like—kill me.
“Cassie, open this door!” Mama shouted. “I told you about locking these doors!”
I told you Cassie, daddy said. You’ve got to leave her. You’ve got to get away from her.
“Daddy, just leave me alone!” I cried.
“Are you talking to yourself again?” Mama said as she banged on the door. “Stop talking to yourself!”
“No Mama. I’m not.”
“Yes you are! Don’t lie to me Cassidy Anne White!”
I bit my lip as I listened to Mama walk away from my door. Without a second thought, I went over to my window and locked it shut. Knowing Mama, she would try to squeeze her wide frame into it and attack me again.
It’s a shame you know, Mandy said. To have to hide from your own mother.
“If I don’t talk back to the voices they won’t talk back to me,” I mumbled to myself. “Just ignore them.”
As I tried to block the chattering out my head, I went to my usual seat—the toilet and unwrapped my shiny best friend. My eyes narrowed as I flickered off old stained blood from the last time, except I couldn’t even remember the last time I had used this blade.
I remembered when Mandy introduced me to the blade. She found it in the wheel of her bike. She blamed me for putting it in her bike because for some reason her boyfriend planted the idea in her head that I wanted her bike. I mean, it was a cool bike but I would never sabotage her like that—she was my best friend.
“You did this to my bike,” Mandy had shouted over me. She was about three inches taller than I was and she always wore heels so she looked like she could be my mother. I just remembered staring into her evil brown eyes and wanting her to stop yelling at me. “You’re an evil bitch!” she yelled again. “I missed the final exam! Greg said you were evil. He said you would do this to me because you are jealous of everything I do. You’re just my shadow.”
Then, I remembered trying to hold her hand, to make her turn back to the old Mandy. The old Mandy, when we would hold hands when we would fight or when one of us were about to cry. However, she would not grab my hand. Instead, she snatched the blade out her bike’s wheel and slashed my wrist with it. I did not cry; I just stood there in shock with my mouth wide open. Without saying anything, she grabbed her scarf from around her neck and tied it tightly around my wrist so the blood wouldn’t seek through.
“You deserved that, Cassie,” she snapped, swung her wavy golden hair in my face, and walked away.
I sighed coming back to reality as I realized I had already dug into my forearm too deep. I searched under my sink for my favorite black towel that hid the blood, but it was gone. So, I ran to my bedroom and grabbed a thick scarf that was on my dresser and I tied it tight around my arm—just like Mandy taught me to.
I dived down onto my bed and shut my eyes as I felt the pain in my forearm build in pleasure. I tried to think about something other than my life, I thought about what it would be like to be famous—but then I just thought about my dad again.
Before he was diagnosed with cancer, we were all planning to move to California. He wanted to become a celebrity lawyer and he already was in because he had a best friend who would offer him a job.
“We’d struggle for the first year but it will be all worth it,” he had said. “You can enroll into a private school and then I will have enough by then for college.”
“I’m barely going into high school. I’m not thinking about college. And I can’t just leave Mandy here,” I had said.
“Miranda can stay with us during breaks. Time away from her will be good.”
“I don’t want to move.”
I rather wished I would have gone with daddy’s gut feeling and moved with him. However, we were too late and who knew he was already dying. My dad was the worst when it came to going to the doctor. I blame Mama, because she never wanted him to go, but if he would have gone that time when I went to get a flu shot, doctors may have discovered that he was already ill based on his nasty cough. In addition, if we would have moved, I could have stayed away from Mandy and her lies. However, everything happened for a reason—or so the saying.
I opened my eyes from my nap and began to sniff like a puppy—I knew the smell right away. I jumped up and ran out my room. Mama was lying across the living room floor, smiling as if she just won the lottery. Next, I immediately ran into the kitchen and turned the gas off.
“Mama, are you crazy?” I coughed, ran, and opened the front door for air. I pulled out my cell phone and tried to dial 911 with my rickety hands.
“Cassie, is everything okay?” said our town’s cop, Michael, who ironically happened to be across the street.
“No, Mama had the gas on,” I cried. “Can you call the ambulance and get her out of there?”
“Okay, you stay here. They’ll be on their way!” he said.
See, I wasn’t the only one who wants you dead, Mandy said.
August 10
Dr. Summings, a doctor who I knew nothing about, but like everyone else, he knew everything about me, was taking my blood pressure for the fifth time. “Something must be wrong. I’m going to get my nurse to take your blood pressure manually. It’s way too high.”
“Can you blame me? I have that monster for a mother,” I whispered. “What was she thinking?”
“We have her under observation. Valeria would never try to do something like that to you or her.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I laughed. “The woman is crazy!”
“Marla, can you come take Cassidy’s vital signs again?” Dr. Summings shouted over the loud commotion outside the room.
Who I remembered as Karen’s mother, came into the room. “Of course, honey.”
I stiffened up as she pulled out her stethoscope. “Your Karen’s mom, right?”
“Um, yes. How’d you know that?”
“We met at the bowling center.”
“Ooh, I remember you,” she snapped, then turned to the door where Michael entered. “You’re going to have to wait, I’m taking her vitals.”
“This is urgent. We need to discuss some things with Cassidy about what exactly happened. You should know of all people that we are very limited on police in this town and we need to get going.”
“This will only take a few minutes,” Marla snapped.
“Miss,” he snapped back. “This is urgent.”
I smiled and Marla walked out the room, pouting.
Michael took a deep breath and pulled out his notepad. “Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t be any better,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “It's a beautiful day!”
Of course, Michael knew I was being sarcastic because it wasn’t the first time he had to investigate on my family. He was one of the nicer police in town—maybe because he was one of the younger ones and was afraid of people disliking him. I always thought he was too handsome to be a police. He looked more like someone who should have modeled for Abercrombie and Fitch with his short brown haircut, tanned skin, and sparkling green eyes.
“Cassidy, tell me the truth,” he said, snapping me out my daydream.
“You know the truth—”
“You had to know about her—”
“About who?” I snapped and yanked the blood pressure cuff from around my arm. “Are we talking about Mama?”
“About Miranda…” he whispered.
“Ooh, are we still on this? You came in here to talk about Mandy when I almost died?” I cried. “You police still think I’m a suspect in her death. We all know it was Greg. Why don’t you investigate him?”
“Greg is dead. His body was found hanging in his house late last night. It was all over the local news. Don’t you watch TV?”
I swallowed hard. “He is dead?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “So, he took everything to the grave with him.”
“Then, why are you still on me about it? I want to forget about Mandy.”
“Why would you want to forget about her?”
“I want to forget her because all I remember is how ugly she turned after she was with Greg. He made her a disgusting human being. She was so mean to me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t want to ask you these questions but my boss just wants to know. He said he won’t sleep right until Miranda gets justice. And he thinks you know something about her.”
“I know as much as you,” I mumbled.
No, you don’t, Mandy said. Tell him about the phone calls. Tell him how you ignored me when you knew I was in trouble!
“Shut up!” I screamed and put my hands over my ears.
“Excuse me,” Michael said. “Cassidy, are you okay?”
“No! I’m not okay. No one cares though. Even when Mandy is dead, she gets all the attention. I could have died but yet we are discussing Mandy. And that’s all I hear in my head—Mandy. Her voice is always bugging me!”
“So you hear voices?” he said in a slow tone as if he were afraid of me.
“Not only hers, but I hear my dad’s too. And I can’t even sleep sometime because they keep talking. I’m blocking it out now but I still hear them…”
“I think you should talk to Dr. Summings about this,” he said. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“Just write it on your notepad, that I’m a nut because I hear voices.”
Michael ignored me and walked out the room. I’m sure he wanted to be as far away from me as possible. Within two minutes, Dr. Summings came into the room next with a sadden face.
“I’m sure Michael told you about everything I said.”
“I see you’ve been cutting again,” Dr. Summings said, ignoring me. “I’m going to have to give you a prescription.”
“I hear Mandy’s voice all the time and my dad’s a lot too. But, Mandy’s is worse. She yells at me and my dad—”
“ENOUGH!” Dr. Summings shouted. “I’m so sick of seeing you and your mother in and out of my hospital. This is my job but do you not understand that I have people who really need help that are being put behind you guys because you guys want attention.”
“I don’t want attention. Well, I need attention now but no one is listening. I’m telling you I hear voices and you just ignore me like I’m lying.”
“That info you provide is subjective. And if it were true, Cassidy you would have to go through lists of examinations that I’m not sure your mother can afford to see if you may have a mental disorder.”
“Did Mama tell you this?” I said. “Did she tell you how she kicked me, and beats on me? Huh?”
“She told me you’re upset and you’re depressed. That I know for a fact. I know it’s hard that you lost your father and your best friend, but you have to stop harming yourself.”
I began to cry, and stood up. “I’ve always been upset and depressed, because of her—Mama.”
“Cassidy, I’m not going to argue with you. This is the tenth time I’ve seen you in two months. I think you may be developing a form of—”
“Don’t even say it. I’m not here for attention. I’m here because I need help.”
“Here,” he handed me a form. “You’re going to take this prescription daily and I’m going to forward you and Valeria to a family counselor.”
“What’s the point? She’s just going to say it’s too damn expensive,” I snapped and left out the room, throwing down his form.
***
The dinner table was quiet as Mama handed me a bowl of soup. Of course, she did not cook the soup. It was the cheap soup you can get from the dollar store. Mama believed it was cheaper to eat that every night, rather than cook. It made me wonder why I was a size five if that was all we ate.
Mama began to shake and hyperventilate, as I did not look her in the eyes. “Are you going to speak to me at all?” she said.
“I’m not intending to,” I said.
“Listen Cassie, I’m sorry about everything…”
No, she is not! She wants you dead just like me. I want you dead. Cassie, do not listen to Mandy.
“I don’t know how the gas was on. I would never do anything like that to us,” she whispered. “I love you.” She does not love you; no one loves you, Cassie.
“Mama, I know you're lying because for a fact you don't even use the stove!”
“Exactly, then why would I turn it on?”
“I mean, you don't ever use it to cook, so you couldn't happen to leave it on by accident. I never touch the stove, so I couldn’t leave it on. It was you!”
Ha, you guys are such losers!
I began to breathe heavy as the voices got louder. Mandy’s voice was the loudest and strongest. It seemed like she was right there in my ear, shouting until she couldn’t shout anymore. And daddy’s voice always stayed the same, faint but very hearable.
“Mama, I can’t talk anymore. I’m sleepy.”
“But you didn’t even eat—”
“Just let me sleep.”
“Okay…”
I walked into my room and sat on my mattress, tracing my finger over the cut that was already healing into an ugly scar. It would just be another scar that had a bad memory written all over it. It was right beneath the tens of cuts where I nearly ended it all. It was there because of guilt...
About a week ago, the police had came to my house and told me Mandy’s body was found. At first, I thought they were going to tell me Mama was killed. She didn't come home that night, which made me worry, so when ten policemen came to my door and took off their hats—I had the worse feeling.
They broke the news to me slowly, first hinting that Mandy was okay—as if they found her alive. Then, they began to speak of her in past tense and then I realized she did not make it.
“Many is dead,” one of the cops finally said after minutes of sidetracking. “We need you to come down to the mortuary. Her family needs you there—this is too hard for them.”
My heart had dropped to my feet because all I could remember was her voice on the other end of the phone, telling me to pick her up because she had a bad gut feeling.
“Pick me up now! Greg is going totally psycho on me. He bit me just a second ago. Now, he is in the bathroom doing god knows what—”
“I’m busy,” I had snapped.
“But, Cassie…I really need you.”
“Well, be a lot nicer next time,” I said and hung up the phone. And that would be the last time I would hear her angel-like voice.
That phone call had police all over my nuts because Mandy had called me from her cell phone just minutes before she was decapitated. Of course, I looked guilty because I couldn't tell the police what out last phone call was about. I didn't want to tell them the truth, how I ignored her.
I shiver just thinking about how she was murdered. She didn't leave this world at peace. Word is, she died a gruesome painful murder—a murder that may have been avoided.
August 12
If you were a loser like me or had nothing better to do, my high school would let students come in two days before the first day to stock up their lockers and meet their up and coming teachers. I had the same bottom locker since ninth grade and since I hated changing, I never wanted a new one.
“Cassidy White, you know the seniors can have any locker they choose, right?” Dr. Smith, the school principal said.
I looked back at him and my eyes instantly went down to his huge shoes. I always thought he would buy big shoes and fill them with paper. However, one day I saw his bare feet at the bowling center. His shoes always caught my attention and I was not a foot freak.
“Cassidy White?” he shouted.
“Yes?” I said.
“You know you can get a new lock—”
“I like this locker,” I said. “I don’t want to change it.”
As Dr. Smith walked away, all I could see was flying bright hair skipping toward me. I did not know if I should move out the way or just stand and stare at them.
“Hi Cassie!” Karen said, who had bright blue streaks in her hair. “What's up!”
“Um, your Kasey right?” I said.
“Don’t be silly, it’s Karen,” she said. “I told you she jokes a lot,” she whispered to a tiny girl who was standing next to her.
“Is this your sister?” I said, trying to not act interested.
“I’m Betsy,” she said and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. “I’m going to be in ninth grade.”
“Really,” I smirked as I stared at her frame, which was like the size of a five year old. Well, not literally but she was small for her age. “Well…it was nice to meet you.”
“We were here for dance try outs,” Karen said. “You should join.”
“Yeah, that would be cool. Like you could give us all the inside scoop of the seniors,” Betsy said.
“No—”
“Hi, Cassie,” Daniel, the head of the yearbook and anything else you can think of, said. “Well, we know Mandy passed away this past summer and it’s going to be a hard time for everyone here. We are going to do a memorial for her and we thought since she is your best friend, you—”
“Can praise her and act like she was the best thing in the world?” I snapped. “Because she’s not. She isn’t as great as she seems. She was evil!”
Daniel pushed his glasses back with his index finger and said, “Whoa, I’m sorry…I just thought it was a great idea.”
I sighed and changed my thought. “It is a good idea. She would really love it.”
Daniel ran his hands through his short black hair and smiled, “Okay then, we will rehearse tomorrow if you don’t mind. We like to have the ceremony on the first day back to school.”
“Of course. It’s not like I have anything better to do than think about Mandy,” I said.
“Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and ran down the hall to catch up with his friends.
Karen cleared her throat and waited for me to speak.
“What?” I said as I arranged the notebooks in my locker.
“You seem bitter,” Betsy said.
“Well, you guys will soon learn that I was also known as 'Mandy’s shadow.’ And even when she is dead, somehow I still am and I’m sure she loves it.” I do love it!
“Well, you guys were best friends—”
I cut Karen off, “Yeah she is someone I want to forget about.”
“Why?”
“Long story; I have to go,” I muttered. “See you guys Monday.”
“Bye!” they both said.
I sat in my car thinking about how much senior year would suck. Without Mandy, I didn’t really have friends. She was always the person to get invited everywhere and I was always her plus one. It is not that I wanted friends either, it was just my life was so lonely especially since I didn’t have anyone to talk to about everything I was going through.
Why don’t you tell everyone the truth? About how you ignore my calls!
“Maybe I will,” I said. “And maybe I’ll tell them about how evil you are.”
Just go ahead and cut yourself. You know you will! Just kill yourself!
I dug into my handbag and pulled out you know what. I rolled up my windows and took a deep breath as I held the razor close to my skin.
Don’t do it, honey. Please don’t. You’re breaking my heart.
“Daddy?” I jumped and the razor slit deep into my skin. “First, you say you want me with you, now you're saying to stop it? You're confusing me!” I cried as I searched my back seat for a towel. As more blood dripped out, I grabbed the sleeve of my favorite purple jacket, and wrapped it tight around my arm.
A sigh of relief.
August 14
I ran through the halls of the math classes, searching for my English class. It was a shame that I didn’t know my school, since I spent all my life at school. I guess that is what summer, a pregnancy, and a death does to you.
“Cassie! Cassie!” Rebecca aka Mrs. Johnson pushed me back.
“Becca what are you doing?” I snapped as I dropped my makeup to the floor.
“You’re not going to say hi or even mention my hideous spray tan?” she teased.
Okay, it was beyond weird. My only friend was a teacher—yes, a teacher. However, it did not count; she was my ninth grade teacher. She was still young and understood me better than myself—it scared me most of the time.
“I’m already late,” I said as I picked up my lipstick.
“Don’t blame me; blame yourself for doing your makeup in the restroom,” she said and yanked my schedule out my hand. “Mr. Conner?”
“Yeah, I can’t find the class,” I moaned.
“Yeah, you’re in the wrong building. He’s in building A.”
“Thanks,” I said as I turned around to leave—
“Wait, you’re not going to ask me about my trip to France?” she said as she held my shoulder.
“How was France?” I said quickly.
“I won’t answer you in that tone,” she smirked.
“I’m sorry, I’m having a bad day, and I have to do this speech for Mandy—”
“Mandy? You said the M word. I thought we weren’t ever talking about her ever?” she whispered.
“I know, but this is the last time we will ever here the M word. Well, not until I’m done with her,” I grinned.
“Ooh no, what are you up to?”
“You’ll see, but I have to go.” I said and ran off to class.
As I ran through building C to get to building A, Daniel jumped out in front of me holding up a framed picture of Mandy. “Where were you yesterday?”
“I made my speech. No worries,” I said as I tried to walk around him.
“Well, I don’t know if we want you to speak now since we don’t know what you’ll say. All we know is that you might go up there and call Mandy out her name. We can’t have that. The media will be here and her parents will be there too.”
“Wow, you guys are making this a big deal,” I said, second-guessing my speech.
“It is a big deal. A student at Simon High was murdered this summer. This whole story has got the town shaking in their rain boots.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. Remember, Mandy and I were best friends. I will do nothing but praise her for accepting me into her life.”
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