𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞 જ⁀➴

XI

Cassandra

Cassandra blinked, eyes drenched full with bottomless vulnerability as she stared. Blankly, slowly, at the hands she splayed out before her. Clouded curtains were drawn around her vision, but that did not stop her as she twisted it back to the crimson that coated the palm of her hands. Stuck between the crevices of the fine lines. Trickling down. Sinking deep into the damp soil of the earthy ground below her. The trail was short, ripped a little at the seams, but the amount of the blood wasn't the problem. No, it was the wrangled body it led one to. Beaten past the point of any recognition. Mark Alistair.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

The phone clutched loosely in her left hand fell from her weak grasp when the faint chatter that shrilled incessantly in the shell of her ear ended. For a moment it had been eerily silent. Someone restrained her and Cassandra had thrashed violently against the hands that bracketed her arm. Her mind was confined, full to the brink of destruction; it seemed like someone was about to break in. Crash in and take over. It was so quiet but then her ears popped and all hell broke loose. The faintness transformed into full blown panic, but none of that mattered other than the manic laughter that haunted her.

"What the fuck did you do?"

It was Aleksandr. He was sweating hard as if he had been fighting amongst a herd of animals. She attempted to open her mouth and talk, but all that came out was more laughter. 

"No! Don't you fucking dare! You listen to me, Cassie!" He shouted in her face and then his hands bracketed around her wrists and lifted them up into her line of sight. "Look at them! Look at your fucking hands, Cassandra! Look!"

Cassandra did look then. Flit her gaze to where he intended she do so, but then as if she couldn't help herself her gaze trailed off when something else caught her eye. It was Alistair. Cassandra had not known if it was a simple trick of the light, an involuntary jerk of the still body or if he had in fact really moved on his own accord, but neither Dorian and Aleksandr were in the right frame of mind to realise themselves. And then it happened again. Brief at first, and then the spasms came more quickly. More intense, as if to prove the sick point that Cassandra couldn't win in a world full of men. The world stilled and Dorian stumbled backwards in shock, his eyes wide and his hands, distressed and insistent, in his icy blonde hair.

"What the fuck," Dorian half-shouted, a simple light of hope flashing in the midst of his eyes. "I think he's still alive..."

And then it came, finally, a gasp—a faint, ragged intake of breath that shattered the hindrance of stillness. Tore right through the piercing silence. The blood in Cassandra's veins had run cold, and for a split second when the boys' eyes flashed open, Cassandra couldn't comprehend quite anything. There was a gaping wound, the top layers of his femur were uncovered, the white gleam of bone protruding outwards, and Cassandra could not believe the amount of blood. Her head reeled, and the boy cried out, slow and tired. She couldn't fathom any of it and the hole, on the left side of his head, was sluggishly pouring more and more crimson. He started flailing around weakly, and it made a laugh bubble up on her lips.

Cassandra needed more.

So much more; she wanted him limp beneath her feet.

Dead.

Cassandra then bolted forward - lashed out towards him. Hand encircled around a jagged rock, she did not waste a moment to hit the gaping wound once more, and Alistair's head thumped back. Genuine satisfaction overrode her system. Red clouded her senses and blood burned in her veins. This boy had hurt her—raped her. Attempted to kill her in the sanctuary of her own home without any mercy, and Cassandra would be damned if she would let him live on his own accord. She knotted a fistful of his blonde hair and smashed it against the wall of stones that supported his head. The sickening crack made her dizzy, blindingly dizzy, with happiness.