nightrunners

xviii.

She didn't know how long she laid there as she stared up at the dim stars scattered across the island's otherwise dark sky. The humidity was sucked up and replaced by the crisp breeze which tickled the nape of her neck and brushed her baby hairs away from her forehead. Her fingers danced over the specks of dirt and every now and then she would dig her hand in, the pads of her fingers crumbling the earth between them. She felt present but lost. Not physically lost, but her mind wandered for miles, trying to make sense of her being in this world.

It wasn't much later that she saw a flash of light skimming across the tree's leaves. Cassiopeia sat up on her elbows, the headlights of the Twinkie reflecting off of her.

She shielded her eyes from the light and heard the door slam. Footsteps rushed over to her and strong arms lifted her up.

"Cassiopeia, what the hell? Are you injured?" John B's voice echoed in her ears.

She nodded quickly, brushing her hands down her dirty covered clothes.

"What happened?" He questioned, his eyes resting on the dirt underneath her fingernails.

She shrugged, "I really don't feel like talking."

John B ran an anxious hand through his curly mop of hair, "Okay, well can I at least give you a ride home? We can talk about this in the van."

She shook her head and glanced over at JJ's house. The warm living room lights and the cushioned couch seemed more than inviting, but she just couldn't bring herself to retreat back to JJ.

She turned from John B and faced towards the road, waving him off.

He called out for her but it was no use, her small figure enveloped itself in the night.

--

When Cassiopeia finally reached home, the little energy that was left in her carried her frail body all the way up the creaking stairs. She glanced over at the clock, seeing the hands resting on the early morning hours. Her grandmother would be stirring awake in no time, and Cassiopeia most definitely could not hold a conversation with the woman right now. She tiptoed down the hallway, her eyes resting on the photo of her and her brother before she pushed her bedroom door open.

She turned on the light and squinted immediately, her eyes needing to adjust to the new brightness. She half expected for someone to be in here, but her room was empty. She didn't remember her clothes being strewn around, or the spines of her books being laid out. She flicked the light off and guided herself to the unmade bed. She collapsed into it, her cold cheek being met with the fabric of the warm pillow. She kept her eyes glued on the wall for a while, the shadows of night dancing in front of her. As her body conformed to something other than the ground, her thoughts drifted towards Rafe. His face full of disgust lingered in her mind. His distasteful words echoed repeatedly in her ears. She wondered what he was doing at this moment, if he was swept away in slumber or if he was up snorting another line of coke. Perhaps his brain had drifted to thoughts of the girl who challenged him more than anyone ever before. Maybe he was sitting there thinking of what he could have said differently to her, maybe he regretted it.

She bit her lip in thought, sucking on it profusely. The kind of thoughts she was having only existed in contemporary romance novels. Rafe wasn't written by a woman, he was his own type of monster. He would be the villain in a child's nighttime story. He was the monster that would reappear in the child's dreams late at night, only for the poor soul to awaken in a ball of sweat and labored breathing. Except Rafe wasn't a fictional character, he was real and existed in Cassiopeia's reality. Unlike a child, she couldn't wake up from him, he would always be there.