JUDAS

the end of the beginning

It was a summer afternoon, the kind that made the air feel thick and heavy with heat. Cass was sprawled out on the floor of her bedroom, a tangle of limbs and notebooks scattered around her. She and Lily had always spent the afternoons together after school, lying on the floor and writing their dreams down in notebooks that were too old for them, filled with lists of places they'd go, things they'd see, people they'd become. They talked about everything—boys, their hopes for the future, and how they were going to escape this small town. They'd laugh about the things they hated, the way everyone in town seemed to think they'd be nothing more than the same kind of people who worked at the diner or fixed cars for a living. Cass hated it, hated that people tried to make them into something small, something ordinary.

But Lily had always been different. She didn't care what anyone thought. She had this light about her, this way of talking about the future like it was already hers. She spoke with such certainty, like nothing would stand in her way. She was the dreamer, the one who believed in the impossible.

"You know, Cass," Lily said one afternoon as they were both bent over their notebooks, scribbling away. "We'll be out of here soon. You and me. We'll hit the road, start over. No one will ever make us feel small again."

Cass had looked up from her notebook, meeting Lily's eyes. There was something in them—hope, excitement, maybe even fear, but all of it wrapped in this infectious belief that things could change. That they could change.

"I can't wait," Cass had said, smiling. "You're the only one who gets me."

Lily had grinned, throwing her head back. "Well, of course. You're my best friend. You're the only one who sees it—sees the real me. The one who doesn't give a damn about the rules."

They had laughed then, as they always did, but in that moment, Cass had felt something shift inside her, something she hadn't fully understood at the time. It was like Lily had planted a seed, one that Cass would nurture for years. A seed of rebellion, of dreaming big. And for the first time, it felt like they had the whole world ahead of them.

________________________________________

Cass opened her eyes, the sunlight in the room now dimmer, the past slipping away like sand through her fingers. But the feeling of that summer afternoon lingered. That sense of being untouchable, like nothing could tear them apart. Nothing, until it all went wrong.

The night they'd gone too far. The night they'd crossed a line they could never uncross.

Cass had always tried to forget the details—the way the party had started small, just the usual crew. Luke had shown up with a bag full of pills, and everyone had gone along with it. They'd all been there, laughing, talking, pretending like the consequences didn't matter, like they were in control. But Cass hadn't been in control. She hadn't known then, hadn't seen the danger until it was too late.

Lily had been different that night. Cass could see it now, in the haze of memory—the way she'd looked at the pills like they were something sacred, like they were the ticket to something more. She'd taken one, then another, and then... nothing made sense anymore. The music was too loud, the people were too close, and Lily was fading away. Cass had seen it happen—the way her best friend's eyes had glazed over, how her body had gone limp against the couch. But no one had done anything. Not really.

They'd all been high, lost in their own worlds, too caught up in their own chaos to notice that Lily wasn't coming back. And by the time anyone had cared enough to act, it was too late.

________________________________________

Cass snapped back to the present, her breath shallow, her chest tight. She couldn't think about it anymore. She couldn't keep revisiting that night. It had been her fault, that much she knew, even if she couldn't admit it out loud. But there was more to it than that. There were secrets. And she was going to find them—no matter what it cost her.