Falling Into Oblivion

Chapter Twelve

THEY SAY YOU see your whole life flash before your eyes prior to your death. I may not be at the last few seconds of my life but it's replaying like I'm going through a near death experience. Somehow I know where all of this is heading and it's playing out in my mind as if to say, I can kiss my life goodbye. All of my nerves in body are screaming at me at once, telling me to not go. But here I am. Doing the complete opposite.

Yeah, call me stupid. I know I am. This is our third time. Our third time going back to the cabin.

Cabin.

I hate the word cabin so much it feels what I imagine my heart being constricted by barbwire. I want to rip it out of my chest but I know if I do, it will leave cuts and tears. So I just stand there and don't move. Never again do I want to hear the words uttered from anyone's mouth. The word acts as an omen. A sign. It foreshadows what is to come. What will be. And if I can prevent it from happening I'd rather avoid going at all cost. Unlucky for me, it's not an option. We need to go back. I need to go back if I want a chance at a normal life. A life with Kaelem. One I haven't begun to live and breath.

"Cassandra." Kaelem's voice comes out deep and monotoned.

"Yes?"

"Why you all twitchy and weird?

"I'm not."

"Really? You're pacing around like a pigeon whose hit one two many windows." I look up and stare out into the distant, trying to remember what I am doing in the kitchen in the first place. I can see Kaelem staring back at me, waiting for an answer. "You alright?"

"Sure yeah. I'm fine. Let me get you your dinner. Our dinner." I pad over to the stove of food I've prepared. In the meantime he's sitting at the dinning table, his eyes scrutinizing and following every movement I make.

I make him a plate of food and place the plate of pasta in front of him. I crack open the bottle of wine my father bought me, pouring Kaelem and I a healthy amount into a tall stemmed glass. Taking a big gulp, I pull out a chair from the table and sit leaning my chin on my hand. It's silent for a moment right until I try to change the subject. It's what I do. It's what I've become good at doing. "Is it true that you used your saved money to buy me a car?" I ask without meeting his eyes. I know how intrusive the question is. I shouldn't be asking. I should be thankful for the gift and move on but it's all I can think to ask while I'm more than overwhelmed about having to go to the...woods.

He scoots out of his chair, walks towards the stove with his plate of pasta and pours the Alfredo sauce I've prepared on his dish. Sauce I forgot to to put on. But I don't say anything. I don't apologize and wait for his response. Wait for what feels like minutes.

At first I don't think he's going to answer. It's too personal of a question. I get it. But the hard edges etched onto his face alleviates. His eyes, hooded. Yet, his jaw clenched. You can see the struggle of emotions warring in his eyes. It appears he's slipping on a mask, a shield to protect his damaged and shattered heart from long ago. He swallows down hard like he always does when he is allowing his mind to go there. Go where it's dark. Somewhere he's got lost, more than once. However, I know him better than that. He doesn't want to shut down like he might have in the past. I know this look and he's trying to formulate the right things to say. He's mentally preparing himself to open up, ready to reply.

He closes his eyes. "When my parents died they left a pretty good inheritance." His eyelids flutter open, they're a pastel blue yet, surrounded by inflamed blood vessels. "Although we didn't have much money, my father did always plan ahead incase of emergencies. So he payed into a monthly, life insurance incase god forbids...he gets shot." He laughs under his breath but I can hear the pain bleed through. It's subtle but apparent. "When my sister died unexpectedly, all the money fell down to me, under one condition. I turn eighteen. But, when the time came I never used it."