15. Cassie #2
And then the rest of the dream floods back, and with it, the reminder of what happened to Russell.
Tor.
Maybe it’s not a coincidence that his name is the first part of tormentor, because right now, that’s how I’m feeling.
I remember being pinned to my door, his hand wrapped around my throat.
He kissed me.
He killed my ex-boyfriend.
I killed his brother, but I’m not sorry about that.
Fuck.
I’m still exhausted, so I try to clear my mind.
I need to go back to sleep, but I’m afraid to.
Not only because I’d rather die than ever have to relive that night at the lake house again, but because unlike my real memories, the dream I just had got blurry in some places.
Maybe it’s because of my conflicted feelings about him right now and the fact that he was chasing me through the first two parts of the dream, but when I was in Tim’s bedroom, when he was on top of me… it felt more like Tor than Tim.
Dread swallows me up even thinking about the dream, so I push it away.
I don’t want to think about this anymore.
I don’t want to risk going back to sleep and falling back into it, either, so I don’t. Instead, I take a quick, cold shower to bring my body temperature down. After that, I start the laundry my mom asked me to do a while ago, then do the dishes, too.
By the time the sun comes up, I feel fried, so I go back to my bedroom. I’m hoping to avoid talking to my mom for as long as possible, so I curl up in bed and pull the blanket back up to my neck. If she comes in, I’ll pretend to be asleep.
___
Turns out, I don’t have to pretend.
Fortunately, I fall into a dreamless sleep this time, and when my eyes open again, it’s afternoon. I didn’t sleep well either time, and as soon as consciousness hits, I’m pretty confident it’s going to be a bad day.
No use putting it off, I suppose.
My hair is still a little damp from the shower I took earlier, but I don’t plan on doing anything with it. I give myself pigtail braids so my hair will be wavy later when it dries, then I put on a little makeup.
I have a closing shift at work tonight. I didn’t think I’d make it on account of being arrested, but now the threat of arrest doesn’t loom quite so imminently.
Once I’m dressed, I open my bedroom door. The TV is on, so Mom is probably home.
Sure enough, I find her in the kitchen with a mixing bowl and an assortment of ingredients spread out across the countertop.
“Do you know where my lasagna pans are?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I think we’re out.”
She looks tired, and now irritated on top of it. “I almost bought one at the store, but I could have sworn I had one at home. Did you use it for something?”
I shrug, not having the energy to care about a disposable tin pan right now. “Would you be able to drop me off at work today? And pick me up?”
“Why can’t you drive yourself?”
“I don’t have a car right now.”
“Can’t you drive Torrance’s car? That’s why he let you borrow it, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t have it right now. It’s a long story, but we went to Holroyd’s for breakfast yesterday, and I left my car there to ride with him, but then he ended up bringing me home—”
Mom is looking at me like I’m a drooling idiot, so I stop talking. “The car’s in the driveway.”
I blink. “What?”
“The blue Lexus? It’s in the driveway.”
Momentarily, I’m at a loss.
Even though I’m sure she’s telling the truth, I go to the door and peek out to see for myself. Sure enough, the car he lent me is sitting in our driveway.
Frowning, I turn back to her. “Did he drop it off? I don’t have the key.”
“Is that the key?” she asks, pointing toward the table.
“Oh.” The key to the Lexus is, in fact, on the table. He must have dropped it off while I was sleeping, knowing I would need it. “Never mind, then. I guess I don’t need a ride.”
“Why don’t you leave a little early and go get me a lasagna pan? I need it for dinner, and that way I can get the meat started.”
I guess I could do that.
I go back to my room and grab my purse and phone. I need to go now so I have time to come home and change into my uniform. No matter how many times I wash it, my uniform from Chuck’s Chicken Shack always smells like grease, so I don’t want to wear it in Tor’s car any longer than necessary.
On the way into town today, I notice things that weren’t there yesterday.
The church I drive past has changed the quote to one about grief and loss.
Walker’s Print Shop is no longer advertising a sale.
Now the sign reads “Rest easy #87” and I get a sinking feeling because that was Tim’s jersey number when he played football.
Gonna guess that’s not a coincidence.
By the time I reach the grocery store, I’m pretty annoyed. I passed several businesses with tributes to Tim on their signs, and I don’t know why I’m still surprised at this point, but I am.
Then I walk into the grocery store, and right there on the bulletin board in the cart pavilion is a picture of Tim printed out on a flyer inviting everyone to the football field Friday night to pay their respects.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter to myself as the automatic doors open to let me into the store.
I am heated, so I move quickly down the appropriate aisle to find the damn lasagna pan so I can pay for it and get out of here.
But when I get to the register, the already fraying thread holding my sanity together snaps when the cashier hands me a blue armband that says, “I am 87” on it.
“What the hell is this?” I ask her, fresh out of patience.
Taken off guard by my hostility, her eyes widen. “It’s for the vigil Friday night in honor of Tim—”
“This fucking town.” I throw the goddamn armband at her. “You can keep your rapist armband, thank you very much. I’ll just take the pan.” I snatch the bag out of her hand. “Have a great day.”
Her jaw is hanging open as I storm out, but I don’t care anymore.
I’m so goddamn sick of this town and all the lunatics who live in it.
When I get cleared of this murder, I should just pack a suitcase and get the hell out of here.
I’ve already tanked my future, so it’s not like I have anything to stick around and plan for.
The only thing stopping me is a lack of funds at this point.
And maybe I don’t care. I’d rather sleep in my car somewhere else than have to face these thoughtless assholes every day of my life.