Before Her Eyes (Constance Langdon x OC)

Welcome Home

A fresh start is exactly what Cassandra thought she needed. A big move to the opposite side of the country complete with a road trip in a U-Haul and her only companions being overplayed pop hits on the radio, and Simon, her long haired tabby that sat in her passenger seat, napping for most of the trip. She'd gotten an unbelievable deal on the house. Not a surprise really, considering it's history, but tragedies and ghost stories were no bother to her. She'd had enough of both in her life that neither fazed her anymore.

Finally, after what seemed like a month of traveling, and by the state of her, you'd think it had been a month, Cassandra pulled up to her new home. People called it The Murder House. She chuckled darkly at the moniker. Some people were scared of their own damn shadows. Cassandra shook her head and stepped out of the packed moving truck. It felt amazing to stretch her legs. She'd only made minimal, necessary stops along the way, and hardly ever for a walk. Her bones cracked as she stretched, and she loosened her scarf. It was much warmer here in California than it had been in her hometown in Massachusetts. She either have to adjust her wardrobe, or adapt. Maybe a little of both.

Cassandra let out a sigh and cast her glance back at the full U-Haul. It was times like this where she wished she had someone to come with her and help her with the heavy lifting. Luckily, at least, she hadn't brought much of anything big. The house came fully furnished with the last owner's furniture, so there was no need for bulky couches and the like to take up any of the room she had. She only brought a couple sizable things, a bookcase, because she could never have too many of those, and an antique writing desk that her father had treasured. The rest of her furniture she had sold or donated to local resale shops. Best to make as clean a break as possible with her past, and well, Cassandra figured that furniture was a good enough place to start. Coming out here had been for healing and starting fresh as well as finding answers and tying up some loose ends.

Making her way around to the back of the truck, Cassandra pulled the door up and stared at the exhausting work before her. She counted the boxes. Twenty. She could have sworn she didn't even have enough stuff to fill twenty boxes, so she recounted but came up with the same number. To be fair, several of them mostly contained books. Amongst those, a great deal of them were for work, but quite a few were for pleasure as well. She grabbed out one of the boxes, adjusting to the weight of it and took it past the gate and to the door, sitting it on the porch. She went back to get another. Once she had all the boxes stacked on the porch, she grabbed Simon from the front seat and held him as she sat herself on the porch step.

"Well Simon, we're home," she said, petting the cat's fluffy back and tail. Simon gave a small mewl of acknowledgement, though whether he seemed content or under protest about his new residence was unclear. Cassandra let the cat go and he sat at her side on the step. He wasn't much of an outdoor cat and hardly ever wandered too far from Cassandra. Reluctantly, Cassandra got up from her seat and unlocked the front door with her new key. Pushing it open and letting Simon run inside, Cassandra turned around and grabbed a box before carrying it in with her. She had to adjust her eyes to the dark foyer before she was able to locate a light switch. Balancing the box on one hand, she flicked on the switch and looked about her new house. There was a fine layer of dust, but nothing she hadn't expected. She looked at the label on the box in her hand, which read 'kitchen' in thick black marker, and walked it in to its proper location.

After the rest of the boxes finally made it into their proper rooms in the house, Cassandra collapsed into the nearest chair. A cloud of dust splayed out around her, causing her to cough briefly, followed by a delicate sneeze. "That was a poor choice," she commented to herself, coughing once more and swishing her hand in front of her face to ward off any more dust. "Guess that's what I get for buying a house that's been sitting untouched for a year, huh?" She asked the question to no one in particular. The cat had gone off exploring as soon as they had gotten inside, and she hadn't seen him since. He may not have been a great conversationalist, but he was all she had.

"There could be far worse things than a little dust," came a voice from the foyer, sounding as if it were approaching her. Cassandra was startled from her chair. The last thing she had expected was a response.

"Hello," she hesitantly called. "Who's there?"

"I'm your neighbor, Constance Langdon," the woman said, a sweet southern twang accenting her voice. She stopped just in the doorway of the sitting room.

"I'm Cassandra. Cassandra Reagan," she introduced, walking over to shake Constance's hand. Just then, Simon reappeared, rubbing himself against Constance's leg before coming to sit next to Cassandra.

"And who is this little fur ball," Constance asked.

"That's Simon," Cassandra replied, slightly embarrassed at his sudden intrusion. He wasn't usually so lovey towards strangers.

"He's a beautiful cat," she commented.

"Thank you." Cassandra paused, trying to find a new subject. "I'd offer you something to eat or drink, but I haven't even unpacked a thing yet," she said with a light laugh, hoping she sounded slightly less awkward than she felt.

"That's perfectly alright, dear. I'll leave you to it. Should you need anything, I'll be right next door." Constance flicked a finger in the general direction of her house. Cassandra gave her a smile and walked her to the door, which she promptly locked after Constance had gone. Part of her wished she hadn't made her leave. Now she was stuck with the monumental task of unpacking again. But, it had to be done sometime or another, she reminded herself.

She made her way to the kitchen and unpacked her various plates, bowls, cups and silverware, finding a place for each. Other kitchen supplies fell into the mix; pots, pans, Tupperware, a blender. What did she even need all this for? She hardly cooked. Even when she did, it was nothing grand. She sighed and continued on. In an hour, the kitchen was fully stocked. She wouldn't sleep a wink all night if she kept going until she was finished. It was getting late as it was. She decided to unpack her books in the library at least. They should be sitting on a shelf where they belong, not cramped up in some box where their spines could be getting bent, or heaven forbid their pages get wet from some mysterious leak she wasn't aware of.

It had taken her longer than she thought and ended up well past midnight before she was through. She had to have all of her research books categorized by subject and all of her books for enjoyment alphabetized by author's last name. She was organized to a fault and couldn't just leave them all haphazard and mixed up. So, she took the extra time and effort to get them how she wanted them before going off to bed.

She slept so soundly that nothing, not even Simon hissing at the end of her bed, could wake her. She'd have more unpacking to do in the morning, and needed to rest up for it. She had much more grueling tasks in front of her than the unloading of boxes, and she was itching to get started.