forum A Thousand Cranes // Rated PG-15 // Eris

Started November 30, 2018 by Deleted user

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The next morning is uneventful as I lay in bed listening to everyone get ready. I’m actually kind of thankful that Emmy wants me to linger in the house for a bit longer. As much as I know I’m ready to go to school once more, every time I think about how everyone will be staring at me that first day makes my stomach knot painfully. As the house settles after everyone has left, I begin to drift off once more. I know I’ll eventually have to bite the bullet here, but I suppose a few more days of ‘general relaxation’ won’t kill me.

The irony doesn’t escape me.

My phone bleeps, alerting me to the fact that Emmy has texted me.

I’m off to an appointment for the morning. I’ll be back around lunch. Please text me if you need anything. :)

Another message comes through a moment later.

Don’t forget to eat! Leftovers in the fridge and ice cream in the freezer. XOXO Auntie

I smile a little bit. Seems I finally know what to call Emmy. Hesitating, with my thumbs over the keyboard of my phone, I’m not sure what to say. ‘Thanks’ seems too flippant. ‘Thank you’ with a smiley face doesn’t seem like enough. Ugh. How do people do this?

I’ll be okay. See you soon.

I shove the phone in my pocket, embarrassed. Even communicating without the person present is a damn challenge. Perhaps I’ll need to talk with Ion about proper text etiquette. I sigh pushing all thoughts of the phone out of my mind. No need to stress over something I do not plan to use often.

Seems I have the house to myself again. For a few hours at least. The thought makes me a bit giddy. I can do whatever I wish, with no one watching me. I debate momentarily on taking out my violin again to play. I like the idea of filling this big house up with trilling notes, but in the end my stomach growls grumpily enough to spur me into moving out of my room. Maybe I’ll even watch some tv downstairs instead of returning to my reclusive cave.

After I’ve showered and relaxed a bit more, I put on my sweater and step into my jeans. I actually feel like a human being for the moment. I open the bedroom door a crack to listen if the house is indeed empty.

The silence should say enough.

On socked feet, I make my way downstairs, towards the kitchen, towards food. Although, I do stop in the living room to turn on the tv, spending a few moments flipping through channels before settling on a baking show that looks more than a little ridiculous.

Satisfied with the outrageous problems of British bakers, I move into the kitchen to make my own meal. A peek at the clock tells me it is closer to lunch than I realized. I frown slightly, putting the container of leftovers back on the shelf of the fridge. Emmy said that she would be back around this time, would she want me to wait to eat with her? Does she expect me to have lunch ready?

Oh no.

I have no idea what to do. She said that they really expect nothing of me, but I am doubtful. Besides, it would be the polite thing to do to wait. Right? I sigh shakily. I am hungry. My stomach takes that moment to yowl. I rub my temples, frustrated. I just don’t know. All these non-rule rules drive me insane. Sighing, I grab a large green apple from the fruit shelf and leave the kitchen. That way I keep my promise to Emmy that I ate, and I will still be hungry for lunch should she expect to eat together when she returns. Compromise.

The apple makes a satisfying sound as I bite into it. So yummy.

I settle into the mound of blankets on the couch, focused completely on my show. The cakes that get finished look absolutely wonderful. Enough to make my sweet tooth ache. I take a hearty bit of apple, imagining what it would be like to make a wild looking cake in the kitchen behind me. I’d make a hell of a mess, but I would enjoy it. I’m still smiling to myself as the next episode begins.

Ooh look, tiramisu. My favorite.

I’m practically drooling as I lean forward on the couch to memorize how to make the dish when I hear someone clearing their throat behind me. I fly up to see who's here. I thought I was alone.

Declan.

Hair in disarray, t-shirt and pajama pants. Eyes still foggy from sleep. Honestly? Looking a little pale and tired.

"Hi."

I look at him, alarmed. What does he want? Why is he here?

"Don't… Don't panic. I’m sorry I startled you." His voice softens with the last words, as if he is shy about saying them.

Gripping the blankets for support, some means to ground me, I try to prevent my heart from crashing right out of my chest. I nod and give a tiny wave.

"Um, I heard you down here and I was wondering if you were all right. Maybe would want some company watching–" He squints a bit at the tv as he carefully clears his throat again. I frown, it sounds like there is some ick in his chest. I hope he’s not getting seriously sick. “—Bake Off?” He smiles a bit, naming the show I was watching.

Slowly, I straighten up fully, my hands still knotted in the blanket. Cold air drifts around my legs, sending a shiver through me. I’m not used to this cool weather just yet. I shrug and smile guiltily. What can I say? I like cooking shows and I’m a little annoyed that I’m missing the recipe for tiramisu.

"Are you okay? Better? No more nightmares?" He shifts so he’s leaning against the edge of the couch.

I nod again. Thank god. I finally feel rested today.

"Good. Seems I caught a little something. I have a raging headache."

I frown slightly, wondering if I should grab him a glass of water and some advil. I let go on the blanket and it slumps on the couch with a soft noise next to the remote I also dropped.

"Gah. You don’t have to listen to me complain," He says, a crooked apologetic grin appearing on his face. "Did you want something to eat? Drink?"

I nod, because I am still hungry. But what about lunch with Emmy? Will she be upset if Declan and I get started without her?

"I’ll fix you something. Do you want a sandwich maybe? You can have solid food, right?" His voice quiets as he turns away from me and into the kitchen. I hesitate. Do I follow him? Do I sit back down and wait for him to come back? I could hardly focus on my show now. Besides, it’s a commercial and I’ve missed the most important parts.

I jump as Declan’s hand appears through the doorway, beckoning me inside. Well. That answers that question. I trip over my own feet as I hasten to follow his request.

"Why don't you sit down? I've to make up for the milk disaster, anyway. Just to show you that I’m not a complete disaster." He chuckles, scratching the side of his face, which is slightly pink.

I look at him incredulously. What a silly thing to say. I shake my head, once, twice and then a third time. I don't think that about him actually. I hug myself, feeling shy. Milk is tricky, you have to keep it moving so it doesn’t develop that icky film on the top. Not to mention that it froths like crazy, which would throw anyone off. I would hardly think that anyone is a disaster simply because of that.

Declan looks at me, head cocked to the side a bit, searching for something I don't know. Emmy has that look too, sometimes, come to think of it. "Please? Or are you not hungry?"

Sincerity once more radiates off him with this question, but I don't understand why he would want to do this for me. Maybe I should just ask him. I've got nothing to lose and it's one way of trying to learn if he will want something in return to this.

Lifting my hands, I make a typical 'why'-gesture, hoping he understands.

Declan laughs a little, but I can tell he is baffled at why I question him. "Because I want to do something nice for you. I've scared you and I fucked up making hot milk — let me make it up to you?"

Now it's my turn to cock my head at him. To my utter horror, my stomach growls loudly in the silent kitchen. I blush crimson and look down to hide it.

"Just sit down," He says, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. "Let me make you something. In this house it's normal to take care of each other."

As he moves to the fridge, I step back and walk around him to position myself at the other end of the breakfast bar.

"What, you going to see if I'm doing it right?" He asks lightly, teasingly. “Trust me, I can make a sandwich.”

I can't hide my surprise at his remark, and I notice that from where I’m standing it would be easy for me to make sure he doesn’t burn down the kitchen. For some reason that is ridiculously funny to me and I let out a little laugh sigh. Declan blinks in surprise and he turns towards me again, facing me fully.

"You laughed! I—Wow I didn’t think I was that funny. To be honest, I feel like I just made a miracle happen. I was starting to think your only emotion around me was ‘wary’ or ‘vaguely aloof’. Broke my heart, you know? I was worried you’d never like me. But I’m growing on you. I know it. It may be a weird friendship, but what friendship isn’t weird?” He winks at me playfully.

I think my mouth has popped open after this little speech. Apart from the fact that I never heard him speak so many words at once, I am stunned at what he just said. It’s just so ridiculous and casual. Like we’re already friends. Like I’m not a burden in this house. Like he cares about me. The fact that it pleases me that Declan already thinks so, is another shock. I’ve never had a friend before. Other than Jackie and she was kind of paid to do it at first.

Declan looks at me for a moment, his expression still open and inviting. Very different from how he is around everyone else, where he is more closed off. We exchange smiles. Obviously, he is learning how I communicate and although it is different from what he is used to, he is making an effort not to bombard me. He turns back to the fridge after a moment and chooses some stuff to make a sandwich with. I hardly see what he is doing. My mind is reeling with the information that I have a friend.

As Declan is deftly making two sandwiches, working quickly and efficiently, he smiles. "There are other places in the house where we can hang out, you know. The kitchen is cool, but Iona said you like music? Classical, I mean."

He looks at me as he asks his question, but I am suddenly shy. I know that he plays like I do, but he’s probably a lot better than me. Besides I don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough to pick up my violin in front of him. Best to avoid the subject, so he doesn’t accidentally find out. I frown and look away, but somehow, I think Declan has caught my blush.

"I do," He answers his own question. "I used to play a lot, but it’s been—” He puffs out his cheeks as he thinks for a moment. “Jezz, I guess it’s been a few years now actually. But I still listen to it a lot. Helps me relax, especially lately. " He looks down at the sandwiches and bites his lip after this admission, almost as if he regrets saying this.

I can feel my expression shift to concern. Declan doesn’t seem to notice though as he focuses on the cheese slices that he is adding to once side of the bread. I want to apologize for causing him—the entire family, really– so much stress, but I’m unsure how. I try unsuccessfully to meet his gaze as he puts the cheesy bread into the toaster oven. He has disappeared into his thoughts and I can certainly relate. So, the kitchen is silent for the most part, except for the ticking of the mini-oven’s timer.

"However," Declan continues, after the moment almost becomes unbearable, trying to lighten the mood again I think, "At least I don't have to worry about the quality of my sandwiches. Here you go, my lady." With an elegant swirl, he picks up the plates and takes them to the dining table.

He sits down at the head of the table and gestures for me to follow his example. I'm torn. I want to follow him, but it's a big leap for me to go and sit down at that table and eat. With a man present.

Swallowing, I deliberate.

"Oh, come on now," He says, smiling. "I'm not going to take it away from you or anything."

Oh, Jesus. What a thing to say, Declan.

He sees something in my look, for sure, as his eyes go wide, and he swallows thickly. "Oh—god. I'm so sorry."

I bite my lip, not sure what to do.

"What have you been through?" He asks softly, and I'm not sure if he's really asking me. I couldn't answer him, anyway. I look at the floor, embarrassed. Why can’t I even do this one stupid thing?

"Here's an idea," Declan says finally. "You sit down there and try to eat. We don't need to talk if you don't want to, and if it gets too much you just get up and leave. I won't hold you to anything, but maybe you could just try? We will still be friends even if we fail at this. I swear." Another once of those easy, carefree smiles appears on his face, lighting up everything about him. Especially those intense eyes of his.

He makes it sound like it's easy.

Thinking, he sits back, drumming his fingers on the table in a smooth rhythm. It’s easy to see how good he would be at the piano from this simple gesture. "If you would take half the energy you spend worrying about what could go wrong, on thinking of what could go right, would that help?"

I cock my head at this. I've never looked at it like this before, but then again, I've always been right about things going wrong, so why be optimistic when being realistic prepares you better for the worst?

He leans forward again; upper arms resting on the table and face serious and sincere.

"I won't hurt you, Cassia. Please believe me when I say this. I won't."

Oh, my God.

I believe him.

I really do.

I don't eat the sandwich, of course. I do sit down with him at the table finally and when I do so, the biggest smile I have ever seen appears on his face.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Declan was smug. Smug as hell.

He doesn't speak much as he eats and I pick at my food, and I find I enjoy the silence immensely. No questions, no consequences, no deliberations for once. Just sitting down. I didn't even know this could exist. I'm careful though. My body is tense as I watch and wait, my hands fidgeting in my lap under the table. There's always a catch, even though there doesn't seem to be anticipation in the air right now. I’m actually more relaxed than I usually am. Still tense, but my heart rate is somewhat normal and I’m not shaking.

Declan is eating, quietly, calmly. He doesn't look like he's brooding. He's not shooting me warning glances.

He's just here. A friend. I like that.

When he is done eating, he sits back. "Nothing better than napping with a full stomach," He says, patting his belly contentedly. "Don't you agree?"

Caught off guard by his question, I wouldn't know what to answer. Well actually, past me wouldn’t know, but me right now? She knows. So I nod carefully.

"I'm sorry," He says, smiling kindly, as he stretches his broad shoulders. "I know questions make you nervous. Yet I can't seem to stop asking you things. I guess I just want to know you. That’s what friends do, you know."

I'm incredulous and I'm sure this shows on my face. I'm not worth to know. Honestly, haven't they figured that out by now? They all keep going on and on about wanting to know me. They are exceptionally stubborn on this fact.

"You're so strong," Declan says so softly it's almost a whisper. "We can't even guess what you're been through and yet you're here, with us, holding your own."

I swallow thickly at his words. They sound so wonderful. He's wrong, though. Nothing strong in going through your life on autopilot. Nothing strong about doing everything wrong just by breathing. And certainly nothing strong about not being able to fight back, because it's all your fault. Always.

Looking down at my plate with the sandwich that smells like it fell out of heaven, I frown and sigh.

"Hey, Cassia?" Declan asks and I look up at him, surprised at the sudden change in his tone. Playful once more. I can’t help the tiny smile that flutters across my lips. "I dare you to take a bite out of that sandwich."

He's grinning and there is a spark in his eyes.

"In fact, I double dare you."

Stunned and unmoving, I keep looking at him. I blink. What?

"Of course, I wouldn't know what to wager, as I don't know what you would like to win, but I think you can eat something. Go ahead and try. I won't look if that makes it easier for you?"

What is he getting at? Rebellion washes over me, and I sit back, crossing my arms and arching a brow. Dare me? Huh, no. Double dare me? Now we’re pushing our luck, Declan James. I don't eat with others present. I thought this was very clear and it is my only condition.

"Don't be mad," He says softly, surprised by my defiance maybe. It only now occurs to me that I have indeed defied him and he's not angry. I'm shocked at my own behavior. Stupid girl, no wonder you trigger a beating so easily.

"I just would like to see you try it. I know you ate ice cream with Auntie, and we had that milk together. It's a good sandwich," He adds lightly, tapping his empty plate. "Believe me, I know."

Still with my arched brow, I look from him to the sandwich that not only smells like it fell out of heaven, it looks like it did, too. My lips twitch as I fight the smile that trying to burst free. He’s playing with me in an innocent, carefree way. Like friends.

"I won't take it away, and I won't bother you while you eat. Try it," He coaxes. "Just that tiny slice of cucumber there. It's calling your name. Can you hear it?"

Two things flit into my thoughts simultaneously. The first is that he is being funny on purpose, for my benefit. The second is that he is not manipulating but trying to persuade me. He's leaving me the chance to opt out if I want to.

This is… new.

"Cassia, eat me," Declan calls softly in a silly voice, impersonating said cucumber slice. My eyes fly back to him, incredulous but amused. His silliness is making me laugh. I can feel my ribs shaking, but all sound remains trapped behind my lips. They twitch more obviously now, which he notices.

He cocks his head for a moment, waiting for me to give in. He’s just as stubborn as me it seems. Finally, he shrugs. "Okay, suit yourself," Conceding, yet smiling. He doesn't sound disappointed or angry. "You're missing out though. It's good food and I know you are hungry."

I won. Ha ha.

Declan gets up, taking his plate with him. The moment his back is to me, I pick up the cucumber slice and put it in my mouth. My eyes close briefly without volition.

It's a sodden cucumber slice for gods sake, but it's the best damn cucumber slice I have ever had in my entire life.

Declan keeps busy at the counter, taking more time than needed I'm sure. Following his movements with my eyes, I give in. I pull the plate towards me, cringing at the dragging sound it makes on the table, and take a tentative bite from the crispy sandwich. The crunch makes the most satisfying sound I think I’ve ever heard.

Before me, Declan doesn't look around, but he pumps his fist in the air in silent victory.

I am pretty sure that could I see his face right now, it would be very smug indeed.

Declan manages to stay busy at the counter until I have eaten about half of the sandwich. I'm decidedly full and when I push the plate away, he finally turns around again, leaning against the counter.

"I'd like to say 'well done' but somehow I don't think that's appropriate. Was it good?"

I look at him, not blinking, afraid to admit that it was, indeed, good, even though my stomach is already protesting with the amount of content that it has been given to process. My lips betray me.

"This is a victory. We shall celebrate with mint chocolate chip. It’s my favorite, but I don’t mind sharing." He says, smiling as he straightens up and walks towards me. Following him with my eyes, I have to look farther and farther up as he approaches. I sit rigid, not sure if I should try to get up and away or stay put and see what will happen.

I grip the seat of my chair for some support as my traitor heart starts to pick up speed. Why is he approaching me?

"Just getting your plate," He smiles gently. "Are you done?"

When I nod, Declan leans forward over the table to pull the plate away from me. I exhale as he turns away from me again, my shoulders sagging from their tension. Although, my heart wasn’t racing as much as it would have before. I sigh. Declan confuses me.

Walking back to the kitchen, Declan looks to his left. "Oh! I completely forgot. Something arrived for you today. That box over there." He points and nods into the direction of the living room.

My heart is in my throat immediately. What could possibly arrive for me here, what can be in that box?

"I think it's your stuff. It was from someone named Dwyer?"

Dwyer! That's Jackie’s last name! Dare I think it’s a present?

I bolt into the direction of the living room and find the box on the floor. Checking the address, I can see it's from Jackie indeed. My smile is big and bright. She hasn’t forgotten me!

"Do you need help to open it?"

Startled, I look up at Declan, who is leaning against the wall near me. Again, I didn't hear him approach. Jesus Christ. I step back to put in more space between us out of reflex, berating myself for doing so immediately after. Friends don’t do that.

"Come on, let's get it into the kitchen," He says, apparently oblivious, as he comes forward, picking up the box with little effort and placing it on the kitchen table. I hover around him as he does so. Anxious—or is it excited?–about what’s in the box.

He goes to get a pair of scissors from a drawer and holds them out to me. I stand looking at him. I hesitate.

"Don't you want to open it? This is supposed to be your stuff, right?" He wiggles the scissors at me. I can tell that he is more than a little curious about what I received as well.

Without looking up, I nod. I'm biting my lip as I contemplate.

"Then open it! Or would you rather do it in your room? I mean, it's your stuff, after all." He lowers the utensil slowly. I can see the doubt darting across his features. We may be friends now, but I’m sure he realizes that there are things I want to keep private.

Finally, I look at him. I don't know what to do. It's not the question of where to open the box. It's more that I am apprehensive of what I will find in there. I was finally getting to feel the distance between my time with William and my time here. I don't know if I can face my old life.

"Open it," Declan repeats softly. "You must want to know what's in there. Hell, I would want to know what's in there. I’ll be right here if anything jumps out at you. Promise."

Biting my lip, I decide to just do it. It doesn't really matter if Declan is around or not. I've no connection with the stuff in this box, anyway. I'm not scared he'll take it away or mock me with it. I'm just scared of the memories that box holds for me.

Well, best to get it over with then. Picking up the scissors, I cut through the tape and open the flaps. Nothing pops out at us. We both sigh in relief. I pick up the letter that's on top of the items first, but don’t look any further. As I open the envelope with shaking hands, Declan steps back.

"I'll let you read," He says softly, and he disappears into the living room.

I have to hold the letter against the box to still my trembling hands.

Swallowing hard, I read.

Dearest Cassia,

How are you doing? I haven't heard from you since I saw you last at the airport and I want to know how you are. Did you receive my emails? I hope you are well. Nick told me you had a rough beginning but are on the mend! He thinks it's a reaction to the exhaustion and malnourishment and I agree with him. I don't have to be a doctor to see that you were running low on reserves.

I hope you are better now and that you are starting to see that the James family is genuinely nice. Please tell me your thoughts on them when you feel you can email me. I'm curious what you think of them!

Underneath this letter you will find the box with your stuff William has sent to me. Don't worry, he does not know your address and he never will. You will never have to go back to him, Cassia. And the James’ will never send you away. You have done nothing wrong and you deserve to stay in a good home.

Don't shake your head at me now, because deep down I know you know I am right.

I have not opened the box William sent. The contents are yours and yours alone, and it was not my place to check them. I hope you can use them still, but I am sure Emmy will understand perfectly if you want nothing to do with the things from your old life.

You've been given a new start, Cassia. I hope you will soon realize this.

I miss you.

Love Most Dearly and Forever,

Jackie

Tears are flowing freely now, and I can't prevent a sniffle to prevent my nose from dripping. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater and press my lips into a line, holding my breath and willing the tears to go away. She didn’t forget me. Jackie even said that she loves me.

What a world. It hurts, but I’m smiling. I guess I have more than one friend.

"You okay?" Declan asks softly from the entrance to the kitchen.

I look at him briefly, startled, again, before I look down again and wipe my face once more. I know I’m beat red in embarrassment.

"Are those good tears or bad tears?" He asks tentatively. "I mean, are you upset by the letter?"

I shake my head, not willing to talk about this but unable to ignore him. He's going through so much effort. Even I realize this.

"Good tears then?"

Nodding now, he steps closer slowly. "Do you want to open the box?"

Shrugging, I pick up the knife and rip through the tape of the smaller box inside the big one. Declan is on the other side of the table, a safe distance away. Although still protecting me from anything that should pop out, I guess. I am beyond caring if he sees what's in that box right now. There can be nothing of any value in it, anyway.

Finally opening the box, I look inside. My breath halts instantly and my heart explodes out of my chest with shock. Folding the carton back closed, slowly but determinedly, I step away from it, as if the contents could hurt me.

"Cassia?" Declan asks, alarmed, immediately putting himself between me and the box on the table. He looks from it to me and back again.

I could have known this. Sucking in air between my teeth in annoyance, I berate myself for not expecting this.

Stupid, stupid girl. What were you thinking? Of course, something like this would happen. Of course, I would get kicked in the back after all that happened. Of course, he would not give in that easily. Of course. And I have myself to thank for this.

Fuck.

"Cassia?" Declan asks again. This time a bit sharper. His hand comes up as if to touch me but freezes half way there.

I stand, unmoving, scowling at the box and willing it to disappear from this table, from my life.

Well, at least the message is clear. I shouldn't have opened it.

"I am looking inside the box now," Declan announces as he closes the distance between himself and the table. Gingerly, he folds open the carton and peers inside.

"Oh, what the fuck?" He breathes. "Oh, my God." Looking deeper inside the box, he reaches to pick something out and hold it in the light.

No! Panicked, I step towards him and reach out and pull the fabric he is holding from his hands.

No need to see this. No need to look at it. Put it away.

He doesn't let go.

Desperation and fear wash over me as we both hold a ragged piece of cloth that may or may not have been a sweater. Bright white spots all over it betray where the bleach has hit the fabric.

"Cassia," He breathes, still not letting go but trying to catch my gaze now. Holy crap, he is so close to me. I can feel the heat from his skin. Smell his soap and the faint scent of the apple he must have eaten while waiting for me in the kitchen. Holy. Crap.

All that registers with me is the frantic need to not have him see this humiliation. I clutch the fabric, desperate to get it from his hands and to put it back safely in the box, unseen.

His hands move and suddenly they're over mine.

My breath halts and I freeze immediately, my mouth still open slightly as I stare at where he touches me.

God he’s so warm.

"Look at me."

It takes some effort to tear my gaze away from our hands and to meet his eyes. I can only detect worry there and… compassion? Gah, I can't think like this! He’s so close all I can see are those goddamn icy eyes of his as they bore into mine. Yet the way he holds me is gentle and so kind that I want to burst into tears. But I don’t. My eyes remain stubbornly dry.

"This is… Oh my God Cassia, I am so sorry for you." He speaks lowly, yet with so much emotion I can do nothing but believe what he is saying. Still looking at his face, I am acutely aware of every inch of skin where his hands cover mine.

"Breathe," He whispers, as he lets my hands go, breaking the contact, I inhale, gulping in much needed air.

Dropping the ruined sweater back into the box, I hope he will let it go now. Just let me hide the box and nobody needs to know this has ever happened. I wish there was a way I could make this clear to him.

But he is not done and he starts rummaging through the contents, mumbling, "maybe not all is ruined," but he doesn't sound very hopeful.

I stand looking, frozen and feeling utterly powerless. I don't want him to see this, see my humiliation. Yet I don't know how to stop him. I am afraid to stand in his way. My hands somehow end up knotted in my hair. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Declan please stop.

Fuck. I will my tears back. Don't cry now. Don't make it worse.

William has shredded my clothes and if that wasn't bad enough, he has poured bleach over it to make sure they were ruined beyond repair.
I watch, helpless, as Declan looks through my stuff. I don't mind him seeing what used to be mine. I mind him seeing what William did to it. I mind him seeing me getting what I obviously deserve for what I did. He knows now. He so very obviously knows how much of a piece of shit I am.

Oh god, I don’t want to lose my friend.

"Hey, what's this?" He asks, as he grabs hold of something to pull it out. "A belt?" Confounded, he looks at the rolled-up strip of leather.

Oh no. Oh no, no no.

My breath leaves my body as every hair stands on end.

"This is not a woman's belt," He mutters, turning the brown leather over in his hands. "Why would he send this? Is it a mistake?"

When Declan looks at me, his eyes wide in question, holding the belt up as if to ask me what he should do with it. My stomach clenches and bile rises in my throat. That delicious sandwich is making a reappearance and I am powerless to stop it. I can’t take my eyes off of that damnable belt. Declan holds it out towards me and I back into the table in my haste to get away. My stomach turns for real and I have to run, fast, to the downstairs bathroom where my body gets rid of the heavenly sandwich.

It takes me some time to calm down again afterwards, and to suck up the courage to leave the bathroom and face Declan. And the belt.

That belt.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the hallway and immediately hear voices in the kitchen.

Ah, hell.

Listening in for a moment, I can hear Emmy. Did she get home just in time for the show?

Oh my God, will she be angry?

I halt. I need to see how the lands lay before I go back in.

"I feel so sorry for telling her to open it," Declan says. "But when she saw the belt she just ran off to vomit. I…"

“Oh honey,” Emmy says, there’s a shuffle and I know she’s hugging him. “You had no idea what would be inside. It’s okay.”

"It's just… She was so scared suddenly. What could I possibly do with a belt?"

The silence that follows is tangible.

"Oh, what the f–Sorry. This cannot be happening. To Cassia? Cassia?! She couldn’t hurt a fly?! Why would someone do this–?"

"You couldn't know." Emmy interrupts as Declan’s voice breaks. "Don't berate yourself over this. You were only trying to help."

"And here I was, being so proud I got her to eat something," Declan says desolately.

"You made her eat?" Nick asks, and the surprise is obvious, but genuine. I hadn’t even realized he was home as well.

"Yeah," Declan says, sounding falsely off-handed. "Although I think she wouldn't want you to make a big deal out of it. It was great. Really great."

"It's still quite the achievement, Dec. She must start to feel more comfortable around you." Nick again, always so compassionate and proud.

Just as I start to walk again, a disapproving sound from the living room alarms me and I halt in my tracks, apprehension gripping me.

"This is horrible," Emmy mutters. "Look at this. How could he do this?"

A silence falls and all I can hear is my own heavy heartbeat.

"She deserves so much better than this," Emmy continues muttering. "He has ruined her almost beyond repair already and now he kicks her in the back. It's a good thing I don't know where he lives. I want to kill that man for doing this to her."

Emmy’s words rattle me. I'm afraid to believe she means what she is saying right now. But it seems to me that she's blaming William for this.

"Her foster father?" Declan asks softly, and another heavy silence falls.

"Yeah, Dec," Nick says quietly on a sigh. "Her foster father."

"This… He… What…?"

"Yeah.” Nick admits with another sigh

"But…And that belt?"

Some shuffling, some rubbing sounds.

"Shit."

"We know," Emmy says comfortingly. "Ssh."

I wait for a moment, not wanting to interrupt this and not allowing myself to think that what is going on in that living room actually has to do with me.
"I can't believe what she must have been through," Declan says so softly I can barely hear it. "I mean… There's just so much good in her, and here she is, afraid to breathe."

"We know. That's why we let her come here. All she needs right now is a warm and welcome home. The rest will follow." Nick says and there is a sound like a pat. Nick must have gripped Declan’s shoulder.

"I didn't know."

"We didn't either, honey. Not that it changes our point of view on her stay here, but we never knew."

I have to swallow hard to hear them talking about me like this. Not a vile word, not one nasty thing. They're nothing less than kind and gentle. I'd expected them to at least be honest behind my back, so either they know I may be listening in, or they are speaking the truth.

Huh.

The one solidly rotten thing about this however, is that Declan now knows about my past. The delicate bond we have built — if I can call it a bond, no best not call it a bond — will now surely stop.

Back to one friend, I guess.

Deciding to put an end to all of it, I come around the corner and make myself known in the living room.

"Oh sweetheart," Emmy breathes, turning to me. "I am so sorry for this. Are you okay?"

What a silly thing to ask. Declan, standing behind Nick, looks uncomfortable. See? He'll want nothing to do with me now anymore. Nick just looks at me with a look of concern etched on his face.

I stare down again, fidgeting, not knowing what to do or what they expect of me now. I am ashamed beyond reason and I can feel it on my cheeks.
"Do you want to go through the clothes to see if anything can be salvaged?" Emmy asks softly.

I shake my head, no. I don't like that they all have seen the ugly truth in that box, and I fidget some more, uncomfortable.

It's obvious. William always told me I ruined him. I guess that by leaving, I did. And now he gets back to me the only way he still could. He sent the belt along too. Just to be helpful for the James’. Just to make clear that he expects my life here won't be too different from what I knew with him.

A wave of nausea washes over me again and my empty stomach contracts so fiercely it hurts. I hold my breath and wait for it to pass.

Nick disengages himself from the tiny group at the table and walks towards the kitchen, not speaking. I follow him with my eyes, waiting to see what will happen. The atmosphere is decidedly tense, yet I do not sense any danger.

Pulling something out of a drawer, Nick walks back to the table. His face looks grim, which alarms me. When he picks up the belt, I take a step back, heart once more picking up speed and eyes going wide. I bring my hands up in front of me in a half-defending, half-apologizing gesture, waiting.

Without a word still, his lips pressed into a tight line, Nick unfolds the belt and cuts it in half. It's tough work through the broad strap of leather, but he's succeeding. Apparently, he is strong as hell. The two smaller parts undergo the same faith and finally he cuts off the metal clasp. The leather belt that has caused me so much grief, no longer exists.

This belt at least will not be used on me anymore and the relief I feel about this is palpable. I do not fail to see the ritual in Carlisle demolishing this belt. I let out a silent sob, my body shaking as I drop my hands back to my sides.

When he is done, he leans on the table for a moment, before his face relaxes, and he looks up at me. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get rid of this."

Stepping back, he beckons me to come forward and pick the pieces of the table. I go immediately and without hesitation. The belt feels heavy in my hands, the leather feels like tiny needles against my skin. Taking a shaky breath, I look at the pieces of what once could hurt me so much.

"No more," Nick says softly, but almost authoritatively. "That's over and done with. No more."

Looking up at this man, I can see hurt in his eyes. There is nothing threatening about his demeanor at all as he talks to me.

Stepping ahead of me, he holds out his arm in a gesture to follow me. "Emmy, if you would join us," He says softly, and she moves immediately, preceding me out of the kitchen, out of the house, towards the small dumpster they have under the porch.

None of us are wearing coats, but I barely feel the cold.

Nick opens the dumpster for me and holds out his hand. "Go ahead," He says invitingly. He’s even grinning. I stare at him as I step forward gingerly, for once not entirely alarmed by his close proximity, and I drop the belt in the bin. I’ve kept his eyes this entire time, their brown warm and happy. “That’s my girl.” He says into the air between us.

My lips quirk. Oh.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Emmy says, ferociously. "This is your new life, Cassia, and it doesn't contain any violence. Let this be the sign to start it for real."

I spend the rest of the day in the company of Emmy, Nick and Declan. It’s almost strange that I don’t find the need to disappear into my room after the whole box ordeal, I think it may be because a little part of me is relieved that most of my story is out in the open now. Out in the open and accepted with zero lash back. Emmy and Nick make no mention of it again, hardly even acknowledging that anything bad happened at all. They both chatter as we settle in the living room to watch tv. There was a short debate on what to watch until it’s decided on some kind of decoration competition.

Declan on the other hand, occasionally will look at me for periods of time, that I can see out of the corner of my eye. There’s not a single drop of judgement there, and although his cough seems to be getting worse, he only appears to have concern for my well-being. He even made to sit on the section of couch closest to my chair, leaning over during commercials to ask if I was okay and to chat further about whatever we just watched.

Although the question gets a tad annoying after the third time, I find that I enjoy his chatter as much as I do Iona’s. The baritone of his voice is soothing and somewhat raspy from his cold, but his smile is warm, and I find myself looking forward to his commentary.

Iona arrives home in a huff, annoyed that she was the only one that left the house for the day. Along with the others, I laugh silently at her lament. She really is quite dramatic.

After dinner, I find that I'm too restless to keep sitting in my room and decide to try and go out for some fresh air. If I stay close to the porch surely, I would be allowed out? Or would Emmy still want me to sit with them again, like this afternoon? I would like to, but as I fell into my usual routine of eating in my room, I’m not sure if I would be welcome.

Collecting some courage, I venture out into the silent hallway outside my room and make my way downstairs. Some of the James clan, Emmy and Iona, are sitting in the living room, but I hope to be able to slip their notice as I make my way to the kitchen to put away my dishes. The dishwasher is already going, so I will have to wash it all by hand. Without thinking twice, I turn on the tap for hot water and look in some cabinets to find some soap and maybe a brush to clean my plate and glass.

"You don't have to do that," I hear Nick say behind me. "Just put it in the sink, it will find its way into the dishwasher later."

I fly up to look at him, caught off guard, and reach behind me to turn off the tap.

Nick holds up his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry, did I startle you? I was just coming in to make some tea. Would you like some? You can join us, if you want to. How are you?"

I shrug, not sure what to say. That question has always baffled me simply because I knew really know how I am. I’m just—here. Existing.

Smiling kindly, he steps into the kitchen, and I make room for him as he walks towards the kettle on the cooking island. “That’s understandable. It was an odd afternoon.”

Oh well, I guess I wasn’t the only one to notice. I smile sheepishly to show that I agreed and was still embarrassed about what had happened. Nick shakes his head. “It’s no matter. It’s behind us. I’m glad that you stayed down with us though.”

I blink at him before smiling again. My hands are knotted in my sweater sleeves, but I feel much less anxious around him now. Destroying William’s belt really made me feel better and I wish that I could do more to thank him for it. Nick grins as he turns toward the cupboard and the collection of tea within.

Could I just leave the kitchen? I don't like to walk out on people, especially when I don't know what is expected of me. Then again, if I could ask anyone for permission to do something in this house, it would be Nick.

But I'm too chicken to address him. Instead, I back out of the kitchen slowly, giving Nick plenty of time to stop me should he want to. When he doesn't, I hope fiercely he won't come after me as I walk to the closet in the hallway to pull out the coat I've worn before.

This time when I pass the living room, I am noticed. By Emmy. Taking in my coat, she smiles. "You going out for some fresh air?"

I nod, registering nothing but kindness in her voice.

"Stay close, okay? Wait, let me put on the porch light for you." Emmy precedes me towards the door and flicks a switch. "There you go. Should be a full moon tonight."

At first, I don't know why she would give me this piece of information, but when I finally step outside and let the cool air wash over my face, I realize that the world is awash in the moon’s bright glow. It’s a wonderful sight and I wish once more that I was more of an artist so I could capture how the world looks right now.

Despite hearing the rumble of the tv and the occasional laugh, it’s so quiet out here and for the first time I don’t feel like I’m suffocating. The darkness doesn’t look so malicious, the creak of the trees not so foreign. My shoulders relax and I lean against one of the posts of the porch, letting my eyes fall shut.

I stay outside until it begins to rain again, the damp air causing me to shiver and break through my relaxed state. I suppose it’s pretty late now, but no one has disturbed me. I put my coat away carefully, stepping back into the house to peek into the living room. There is something I have to do, and I have to do it now before my courage escapes me again.

I reach inside my pocket and pick out the note I have written. It's not long. In fact, it contains only two words. I have tried to write more but found I couldn't do it. Even a simple thing as writing down my thoughts is an impossible task for me, and I have soothed myself with the promise I don't have to. Emmy is okay with whatever I am able to communicate.

They’re okay with my silence. It's such a scary and hopeful thought I find my breathing halts with the promise of it. I shake my head, I can do this, It’s like texting, but in person. Sure. The note. An effort. Two words. Maybe it's too much. But they have to know and I want to tell them.

Emmy looks up at me when I enter the living room and asks if I want to join them. Iona is watching TV, as is Nick. Upstairs, I can hear Declan moving around.

Do it now.

I decline Emmy’s offer, hoping she will allow it.

"That's fine," She smiles. "Do whatever suits you. Would you like to go to your room instead?"

As much as this has been such a dreaded prospect once, I find I am almost looking forward to it now. The room I am staying in is becoming my room, a quiet place where I can try to get my thoughts into order.

Give her the note.

Swallowing, I get it over with. I can do this. I will have to.

Carefully reaching out, I offer her the folded piece of paper, which she accepts without question.

I step back immediately after, rushing to my room and closing the door behind me, locking it and leaning against it as I sink to the ground.

I did it, I actually did it. I didn't have the guts to wait and see her reaction, but I really did it.

Minutes later, I hear someone approaching through the hallway. Holding my breath, I hear how the footsteps come to a halt before my door.

"Cassia?" Emmy’s muffled voice asks. "I just wanted to let you know, you're welcome. And thank you, too, sweetheart. This life is new and strange, but it’s yours."