The Unspoken Truth

Chapter Six [Edited]

CHAPTER SIX

Cassie's POV

        It is the night before the morning my life would change again. The night before the morning I would begin the before school writing class and everything would make sense again. I am walking down the street, clad in a pair of dark jeans, a wool hat covering most of my hair. Mason walked by me but I didn't recognize him. He seemed like a different person under his dark brown fur coat and boots. "Cassie," he said as I walked by him. I stopped and glanced his way.

        "Hey," I say, avoiding his eyes. The way his girlfriend looked at him haunted me for days after I saw them together, it was like there was a part of me who hated him.

        He continued to look at me until I brought my eyes to meet his. "So I hear you're running a writing thing? Teaching kids or something?"

        "Yeah, it's no big deal," I said. "Just a way to still live my dream, I guess."

        "So you wouldn't mind if maybe I... helped?" he asked.

        My mouth dropped and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. "You want to help?"

        "Yeah. I mean, if that's okay," he said, taken aback by my reaction.

        "If you want to you can come," I said, shrugging. I hand him one of the flyers I have hanging all over the school.

        "Thanks," he says, examining in the paper. "I will." We stood in silence for a few moments before he dismissed himself and walked off in the other direction. The night is dark, crickets chirping from nearby bushes, hidden under the brush. I wrap my scarf more tightly around my neck as I continue my walk to the train station. That is the nice thing about living in a big city such as New York, I don't even own a car because everything worth going to is within walking distance. And if it isn't, you have trains.

        My hands begin to sweat despite the cold, thinking about the writing class tomorrow. There is something reassuring yet equally terrifying to know that Mason would be there. I have had student aids from the high school before, but they never knew what they were doing. Mason is different. I fantasize about him being a terrible writer and me guiding him to stardom. I know this will never happen though. He is too experienced to be a terrible writer. Somehow he strikes me as the kind of person who would write. Who would bury themselves in pages and pages everyday. Block out the rest of the world.

        In a stricken moment I never saw coming, it occurs to me that he may just want to learn a thing or too from me. Not that I can teach him much. I think a lot on my walks to the train station. I guess when you're alone with nobody to talk to, your thoughts drift a little. The train pulls into the station and I take off running, hoping to catch it. I make it in time to scramble in just as it pulls away. I whirl around and collapse into a seat lining the wall of the train.

        It is a quick fifteen minutes before I lurch out of the seat and pull myself down onto the sidewalk. The winter breeze is nice on my skin compared to the heat of the crowded passenger car. Snow crunches under my work shoes as I walk as fast as my feet will let me down my street. I burst into my apartment room when I reach it and immediately run for the fireplace. I keep it going all day despite how many times the city has told me not to. Heating bills seem to rise even higher every year and my teaching salary isn't enough to keep my house warm.

        I knelt to the ground and wrap a blanket over my shoulders. The flames lick at the wood as I stare deep into their eyes of red. I don't know why, but everything just seems to make more sense when I am staring at the fire. It seems like my thoughts come in dreams, the world goes blurry as I stare at the flames. Everything gets clearer as the real world fades out. My body grows numb and I feel myself collapse onto the carpet behind me.

        Colors dance behind my eyelids and a blinding light bursts from the inside of my eyes. I feel my hand shift, it becomes warm as I lay there. I feel alive, but I cannot move. Voices begin to call, their sweet melodic tones drawing me in. A siren goes off in the distance, the warmth of my hand travels up my arm and onto my shoulder.

        The darkness slips into colors and my mother appears in the dissipating light. She reaches for my hand, beckoning me to come closer. I feel weightless as the warmth crawls up my neck and embeds itself in my hair. The clamoring of footsteps feels like a million miles away. Hands are tugging on my arms, pulling me away from the warmth, away from my mother. I try to scream out to her, but my throat goes numb, and no sound comes out. A force grabs at my consciousness as I slip farther into the dark. I reach forward, trying to get back to the light. But instead, I slip into more darkness. Darker and darker.

Until there is no light.