Recovery

41. The Aftermath

Oh, you can't hear me cry

See my dreams all die

From where you're standing

On your own

It's so quiet here

And I feel so cold

This house no longer

Feels like home

____________________

My heart falters and a noise comes from the back of my throat. I can't say anything because I don't know if this is some kind of sick joke or if they're being serious. From the looks they're giving me, I'm guessing they're being way serious.

The tears leave my eyes and I don't get the chance to say anything because I fall to the floor and nothing but sobs leave my mouth. My mother tried to comfort me, as she too cries, but I push her away. I'm yelling, but I don't even know what I'm saying. I just want to yell. I want to yell until I have no voice left inside of me.

"W-why!" I scream, "What's wrong with you? Are you fucking mental?" My eyes are bloodshot and my body is shaking like crazy.

"Honey, just calm down," my mom says, wiping at her face.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" I shout. "How do you expect me to when I've been going crazy for almost 5 years! You guys are sick people! I hate you!"

"Cassie!" My dad screams. "You do not talk that way to your mother!"

"You have no right to tell me how I can and can't speak to anyone! You out of all people shouldn't be giving me advice on anything! You're a poor excuse of a father! I hate you, too! I hate you most! You're sick!" I'm still on the floor sobbing my eyes out, but somehow I get enough strength to get back to my room.

I cry into my pillow and scream and curse and repeat it all. Sarah's alive! How is that even possible? She died right in front of my eyes! How could this be? It didn't make any sense!

I notice my breaths are coming in short and I'm about to have a panic attack. I try my best to try and steady myself, but I can't. This was way too much for me and now I've been thrown over the edge. I grab my inhaler and take three puffs, but it doesn't seem to work. I cry out in pain from everything. I cry because I can't breathe and because finally everything was going good for me, but it turned insane with a flip of a switch. I think I'm going crazy and maybe I heard him wrong, but I know I didn't. He said it slow and steady enough for me to remember the way his lips spoke each word.

I'm mad and hurt and sad and maybe even a little happy, but mostly just raging. Why would they hide something like this from me? Who fakes their daughters death? Why did she go along with it? I was convinced I wasn't the only mental one in this household. Maybe that's why I came out so fucked up in the head. I inherited it from my parents and maybe even my sister.

I yank my bedroom door open and descend the stairs as fast as I can. They're still in the kitchen. "Where is she?" I ask.

"You need to let me explain first," my dad says, still giving me that sympathy look.