Chasing Casey

Chapter Eighteen

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Dedication: OreoCookieKitty for the amazing cover! Thank you!

Recap:

"Sadie!" Owenexclaimed, trying to pull me off of him.

I got one more punch in, before I was reefed backwards. The guy who served us ran over.

"You're fucking dead," I screamed, lunging at Isaac.

"No," he laughed, pushing himself to siting position. "You are."

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"You alright?"

I didn't move. I haven't really, for the past three days. I continued staring at my ceiling, laying completely motionless on my bed.

Isaac was a mess when I saw him. I honestly thought he was moving on and honestly, I was hoping he would help me, too. Clearly, he was as bad, if not worse, than I am.

"Do you... You're not going to school?" mum questioned quietly.

I didn't answer.

"Sadie," she whispered softly. "Please talk to me."

"No," I croaked out. "I am not going to school."

"Is there anything I can get you? You must be starving."

"No," I said dryly.

I heard her sigh, before walking from my room. Vaguely, I heard her say something along the lines of, "I am really starting to worry," as she made her way down the stairs.

I guess she had a right to be concerned. I hadn't moved from my bed, except to use the bathroom, for three days. I felt numb.

The viscous words that tore from Isaac's mouth was circling inside my mind, restlessly. Those words had been stuck on replay, going over and over until I felt like I was going insane.

I just don't understand. We had made such good progress. We had become friends...

There was a soft knock at my door.

"I told you, I'm not hungry," I muttered.

"Didn't ask," a voice said back.

Slowly, I moved my head and stared at Marissa, who stood there, a tentative smile on her face. She was dressed in casual clothes. Clearly, she was skipping school, too.

"Oh," I said, my voice monotone. "I thought you were my mum."

My muscles protested as I moved slightly, to make room in my bed. I winced, my muscles feeling stiff.

"You don't look so good," she said, sliding into bed beside me.

"Don't feel so good."

"The date with Owen was that bad?" she joked.

"He, surprisingly, was really good," I admitted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Not really."

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Why aren't you going to school?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I've never known you to miss a day."

"I'm taking a mental health day, in honour of you," she declared, a smile stretching across her face. "Now, what movie would you like to watch?"

"Anything but romance."

"Too easy."

I watched as Marissa elegantly glided around my room. She went through my DVD collection, before inserting the disc into the machine. I watched as she made even that simple, mundane task look graceful. I envied that kind of precision. It was a curse being clumsy.