Well, me too. That's exactly how I feel now. Finally landing the guy that I have always wanted, just to lose him the second I do.
Two shots were fired and there was no taking them back. Once the two bullets were released from the barrel, they had to go somewhere, right?
It was like the world decided I looked too happy and in one moment the reason for my happiness was removed from my life."Crayvin!" I shriek.I drop to my knees, hitting the gravel parking lot. My pants are immediately pebbled with debris and dirt. My eyes quickly avert to Drew who charges towards Stormy. He yanks the gun from her grasp and takes her to the ground, holding her wrists behind heTarra"Tarra, come here my love so I can get a good look at you," my mother says in an unrecognizably brittle voice, crooking her pale finger at me and motioning for me to approach.I look at my father, who gives me a weak smile and an encouraging nod. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, smelling the sterile, nearly choking environment of my mother's confined hospital room, I rise from my chair and shuffle small strides to stand by her side. Cassandra, her eyes glossy and red, kisses Mom on the cheek, then walks away. She takes my previous seat next to Dad, burying her head into him."Mom," I croak at her bedside. "Are you going to get better?"I stare at my mother's small body and dark eyes. Her beautiful features resemble my little sister so much that the comparison hurts to acknowledge.Our mother was always beautiful, full of laughter and light. Looking at her now, I don't recognize her. Wher
CrayvinAs a police officer, I've seen a lot of shit in the past four years. I've seen the worst in some people, a lot of bad accidents and circumstances, pure evil monstrosities where bodies were involved in a pool of blood. While some days are harder than others, four years on the force hardened me against the harsh realities, like an emotional set of armor.All those years of hardened resolve were shattered the instant two bullets pierced through the body of the woman I love.My mind is going crazy from what little sleep I don't get. A recurring nightmare makes me feel as if I am stuck on a carousel, going round and round on the highest frequency. The same dream resurfaces when I close my eyes; it's never-ending. Each time the carousel circles, I see red... blotches and blotches of red.The same red that had stained Cassandra's white top when she was shot. The same blood red that coated my hands.When we get to the hospital, Cassa
CassandraDeath is on its own clock and I could have sworn I heard the ticking stop when the bullet struck me. I will not forget the feeling of leaving everything and everyone I love. Scared shitless, I remember frantically pulling at the hem of Crayvin's shirt as I continued to bleed out, begging for him to save me. The look he gave me still shatters me to my very core, the look that reminds me of how my near-death experience nearly broke the man that I love.Though, if given the chance to save his life, I would do it all over again.When my sister rushes to the hospital, a strong sense of guilt hits me like a tidal wave when she smacks my arm after smothering me in hugs and tears. "You sissy swore we would always be there for one another. How the fuck did you expect to stand by that promise by jumping in front of a bullet? Never. Never do that to me again, Cassandra Juliet Porsse," she demands.Tarra is eerily quiet as I am finally leav
CassandraI remember when my Dad would watch UFC fights and the loud sound of fists hitting faces and crunching bones would make me cringe.None of those fights compared to the sound Tarra made when her palm connected with Drew's cheek. The echo practically radiates through our apartment and I am eternally grateful it didn't cause Crayvin -who is still tending to the burning sauce- to come running out.Tarra's fiery gaze was enough to make me want to bunker down and cower, and I wasn't even the one on the receiving end of that glare."In case that slap across your face didn't knock some sense into your dense, Marshmallow ass, I'll repeat myself. What the fuck do you want?" Tarra spits.Drew releases a tear as he brings the palm of his hand over his now reddened cheek.Pretty sure the tear isn't from the slap though."I deserved that but look, I don't want to fight. I was hoping to have a word with Cassandra," he says and th
CassandraFat ass. Short ass. Miss Piggy. Ugly piece of lard. Fat piece of shit. Oompa Loompa.These are only some of the names my peers would call me at school. Though now homeschooled, even the distance from my tormentors wasn't enough to ease all of the damage. While leaving was some relief, the memory of how I was treated also left with me like mental scars.I hate that place. I hated it so much that I nearly made Tarra late every morning as I dragged my feet every step. Up to the point before I left, I'm surprised she didn't place Dad's cuffs around my wrists to force my ass there. But she knows why I hate it. The constant bullying, the ear-deafening cackles, skinny bitches, and asshole guys are everyday torture that I succumbed to.My weakness, my attachment to the hateful comments and treatment, is what brought me here, to Loraine's office. Last night, Tarra and Dad dropped the bomb on me tha
CassandraThe last time I sat in a therapist's lobby for the first time, I was full of disbelief, destruction, doubt, and anger. My father brought me to Dr. Loraine, so I felt forced, trapped almost. Now, I see how therapy truly works if you open yourself up to it.One year since my last therapy session with Loraine, I sit in another therapist's lobby office. While again I am here not out of personal choice, my perspective is to just finish this so that I can go back on duty."Cassandra Porsse?" I rise from the chair I had been sitting in for almost twenty minutes when a tall woman calls me."That's me," I admit nervously.With a small, genuine smile, the woman tucks a piece of her toffee blonde hair that fell from her messy bun behind her ear and extends her hand. Her clothes are sleek and professional. A huge contrast to the colorful Lorraine, she wears a black conservative two-piece suit. The skirt is knee-
CassandraHave you ever been so publicly humiliated and embarrassed, that you wish you could crawl under your bed and hide?Well, me too, but there's no way my fat ass would fit under the bed. Or, at least, that's what the entire student body likes to inform me. Let me catch you up on what I mean by going back six hours before I met a new revelation that changed my entire life.Six hours earlier..."Is that what you're wearing to school?" My older sister Tarra asks me as I step into the kitchen.I look down at my outfit choice. My eyes take in my cream-colored, loose-fitting sweatshirt, baby blue sweatpants, and tennis shoes. To my dismay, this is about the only type of clothing that I have left that fits me. I slouch my shoulders and lower my head as I take a seat at the breakfast table, grabbing the box of frosted flakes and pouring them into my cereal bowl."Tarra, leave your sister a
CassandraSeven years later..."Tarra, we have to go!" I yell, knocking on the door of our shared bathroom.I hear the click of the lock and Tarra opens the door. "Alright, alright. I'm ready, let's go." She says with a big grin, her right hand resting on her hip while her left-hand grasps the doorknob.She steps out of the bathroom in a cute, white, patterned chiffon dress that rests just at her mid-thigh, brown wedges, a brown belt around her tiny waist, and a denim jacket to complete the look. Her hair falls to the middle of her back in loose waves."How do I look?" She asks me, a small smile pulls at her lips as she spins on her heel.We finally start to leave and I grab my keys from the key rack that hangs just to the right of our front door to our apartment.
CassandraThe last time I sat in a therapist's lobby for the first time, I was full of disbelief, destruction, doubt, and anger. My father brought me to Dr. Loraine, so I felt forced, trapped almost. Now, I see how therapy truly works if you open yourself up to it.One year since my last therapy session with Loraine, I sit in another therapist's lobby office. While again I am here not out of personal choice, my perspective is to just finish this so that I can go back on duty."Cassandra Porsse?" I rise from the chair I had been sitting in for almost twenty minutes when a tall woman calls me."That's me," I admit nervously.With a small, genuine smile, the woman tucks a piece of her toffee blonde hair that fell from her messy bun behind her ear and extends her hand. Her clothes are sleek and professional. A huge contrast to the colorful Lorraine, she wears a black conservative two-piece suit. The skirt is knee-
CassandraFat ass. Short ass. Miss Piggy. Ugly piece of lard. Fat piece of shit. Oompa Loompa.These are only some of the names my peers would call me at school. Though now homeschooled, even the distance from my tormentors wasn't enough to ease all of the damage. While leaving was some relief, the memory of how I was treated also left with me like mental scars.I hate that place. I hated it so much that I nearly made Tarra late every morning as I dragged my feet every step. Up to the point before I left, I'm surprised she didn't place Dad's cuffs around my wrists to force my ass there. But she knows why I hate it. The constant bullying, the ear-deafening cackles, skinny bitches, and asshole guys are everyday torture that I succumbed to.My weakness, my attachment to the hateful comments and treatment, is what brought me here, to Loraine's office. Last night, Tarra and Dad dropped the bomb on me tha
CassandraI remember when my Dad would watch UFC fights and the loud sound of fists hitting faces and crunching bones would make me cringe.None of those fights compared to the sound Tarra made when her palm connected with Drew's cheek. The echo practically radiates through our apartment and I am eternally grateful it didn't cause Crayvin -who is still tending to the burning sauce- to come running out.Tarra's fiery gaze was enough to make me want to bunker down and cower, and I wasn't even the one on the receiving end of that glare."In case that slap across your face didn't knock some sense into your dense, Marshmallow ass, I'll repeat myself. What the fuck do you want?" Tarra spits.Drew releases a tear as he brings the palm of his hand over his now reddened cheek.Pretty sure the tear isn't from the slap though."I deserved that but look, I don't want to fight. I was hoping to have a word with Cassandra," he says and th
CassandraDeath is on its own clock and I could have sworn I heard the ticking stop when the bullet struck me. I will not forget the feeling of leaving everything and everyone I love. Scared shitless, I remember frantically pulling at the hem of Crayvin's shirt as I continued to bleed out, begging for him to save me. The look he gave me still shatters me to my very core, the look that reminds me of how my near-death experience nearly broke the man that I love.Though, if given the chance to save his life, I would do it all over again.When my sister rushes to the hospital, a strong sense of guilt hits me like a tidal wave when she smacks my arm after smothering me in hugs and tears. "You sissy swore we would always be there for one another. How the fuck did you expect to stand by that promise by jumping in front of a bullet? Never. Never do that to me again, Cassandra Juliet Porsse," she demands.Tarra is eerily quiet as I am finally leav
CrayvinAs a police officer, I've seen a lot of shit in the past four years. I've seen the worst in some people, a lot of bad accidents and circumstances, pure evil monstrosities where bodies were involved in a pool of blood. While some days are harder than others, four years on the force hardened me against the harsh realities, like an emotional set of armor.All those years of hardened resolve were shattered the instant two bullets pierced through the body of the woman I love.My mind is going crazy from what little sleep I don't get. A recurring nightmare makes me feel as if I am stuck on a carousel, going round and round on the highest frequency. The same dream resurfaces when I close my eyes; it's never-ending. Each time the carousel circles, I see red... blotches and blotches of red.The same red that had stained Cassandra's white top when she was shot. The same blood red that coated my hands.When we get to the hospital, Cassa
Tarra"Tarra, come here my love so I can get a good look at you," my mother says in an unrecognizably brittle voice, crooking her pale finger at me and motioning for me to approach.I look at my father, who gives me a weak smile and an encouraging nod. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, smelling the sterile, nearly choking environment of my mother's confined hospital room, I rise from my chair and shuffle small strides to stand by her side. Cassandra, her eyes glossy and red, kisses Mom on the cheek, then walks away. She takes my previous seat next to Dad, burying her head into him."Mom," I croak at her bedside. "Are you going to get better?"I stare at my mother's small body and dark eyes. Her beautiful features resemble my little sister so much that the comparison hurts to acknowledge.Our mother was always beautiful, full of laughter and light. Looking at her now, I don't recognize her. Wher
CassandraHave you ever wanted something so badly in your life, that when you finally get it, it's taken from you just as fast? Leaving your heart completely and utterly broken. You were happy one moment, and then fucking destroyed and shattered the next.Well, me too. That's exactly how I feel now. Finally landing the guy that I have always wanted, just to lose him the second I do.Two shots were fired and there was no taking them back. Once the two bullets were released from the barrel, they had to go somewhere, right?It was like the world decided I looked too happy and in one moment the reason for my happiness was removed from my life."Crayvin!" I shriek.I drop to my knees, hitting the gravel parking lot. My pants are immediately pebbled with debris and dirt. My eyes quickly avert to Drew who charges towards Stormy. He yanks the gun from her grasp and takes her to the ground, holding her wrists behind he
Cassandra"Tarra!" I call out, scrunching my nose. "Mommy and Daddy are kissing again!" I whine, deliberately forcing myself to look into the contents of my cereal bowl, rather than my disgusting, groping parents.Tarra giggles as she joins us at the table, excitement in her eyes. "I can't wait to be in love," she coos.I stick my tongue out. "Eww, gross. Boys are nasty.""You say that now because you're only ten. Wait until you grow up, you will have a whole different outlook," Tarra argues.I shake my head, dismissing that thought, because... no. All the boys in my school are gross. I have seen some pick their nose and eat their boogies, scratch their booties while at recess, and the other ones are mean. They never leave me alone. My mother and sister say it's because they have a crush on me since they act like that, but I beg to differ.If you like someone, why would you be m
CrayvinWhen I manage to drag myself off of the pavement and into my house, Piggy is sitting in the foyer with droopy, sad eyes. A rush of guilt hits me like a damned truck, causing me to not be able to see clearly. A sea of thoughts floods my mind.I want approval.Acceptance.Forgiveness.I want her to see that I can, in fact, be a good guy. I don't want her to think I am some kind of monster that she has to starve herself to be with."I don't deserve you in any way, do I?" I say quietly more to myself than anything.I rake my hands through my hair, exhaling as I avert my stare to the floor.What the fuck is wrong with me?I bury myself into willing women's bodies who let me fuck my cares away. Any trauma or shit that I see at work, is gone and replaced by unchained pleasure. Uncommitted fun, no loyalties.But, then I look at Cassandra, and it's like someone releases the chains around my heart. I want to er