Chapter 26
Cassandra
“Alright, let’s review the methods of depreciation we’ve been talking about. Remember, straight line and decline methods affect the financial statements differently. Who can explain how accelerated depreciation affects the bottom line in the short term?”
My hand shoots up when Professor Davis finishes his question, waiting for his searching gaze to find mine.
Participation is thirty percent of our final grade in this class.
The only problem? Davis seems to always call on the women last, acting as though he simply doesn’t see our raised hands most of the time.
I’ve thrown myself into my studies for the past week, grateful that the quantity of nightmares has been slowly fizzling down after those first few days. The extra sleep has been valuable in re-evaluating my priorities, and the finish line of my degree is finally in sight.
By the time the class ends, I’ve secured my full participation points for the day, and a soft smile lifts my face from the little triumph. I slip my computer into my side bag and head towards the door, nearly running into the figure blocking the exit.
“Sophia!” I exclaim, throwing my arms around her in a sudden hug. Seeing her is like being offered a tall glass of water before even realizing you were thirsty. With the emotionally taxing week I’ve just had, my best friend’s arms tightening around mine is the sweetest relief.
“Gosh, C, did you miss me or something?” She laughs, pulling me down the hall and out of the building.
I needed my best friend so much in the past few days, but every time I thought about calling her, I stopped myself, remembering the long trail of lies I’d hidden from her. It tormented me, knowing that telling her a single piece would unravel the whole story.
I halt our meandering path and grab her hand, looking down at her soft gaze.
“Soph, I’ve gotta tell you something. It’s important.” My stomach rumbles with anxiety as I watch her eyes widen.
“Sounds important,” she says, pulling me down to a nearby bench and sliding in next to me, still grasping my hand in comfort. “What’s wrong, Cass?”
I tell her everything, starting with the drink at the bar, the night with Mikhail, and ending with the confusing, painful night that followed our first date.
To her credit, my best friend stays stoic through it all, though her eyes visibly pinch with torment at the mention of the date-rape drug after her departure that night.
Her hand stays wrapped around mine until the very end, squeezing with encouragement when emotion seeps into my voice.
After I’m done, she exhales a weary sigh, staring at the chipped concrete below us.
“I hate that you felt you had to hide it from me, Cass. I deserve to know about my own failures.” She says sadly.
“It was not your fault, Soph. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you would take on the responsibility of it.
And that—in no way, shape, or form—belongs to you.
Women should be able to stand alone at a bar without getting their drinks drugged.
And you should be able to leave my side for more than half an hour without some piece of shit doing that to me. ”
“I know, Cass, I know. I agree. I’m just…” Another simpering sigh. “I’m pissed that I couldn’t protect you from that. And I’m horrified that someone tried to hurt you.”
I curl my arms around her neck once again, reveling in the warm embrace of my closest friend.
“I love you, Soph.”
“I love you more,” she says against my neck.
“Not possible.” I give her one last squeeze before pulling back.
“As for the man…” she says, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “That whole thing sounds very complicated. But he sounds like an absolute asshole.”
I laugh a little, nodding at her accurate assessment.
“It seems like you handled his ass yourself.” She says, making me feel much more capable than I did before.
She’s right. I was able to handle it.
“If he bothers you again, you better tell me. We’ll figure it all out together. I know cops always make you uncomfortable because of your past, but you need to know that you can always call me, and I’ll come running. Always. Deal?”
“Deal.” I agree, mirroring her conspiratorial smile.
“In the meantime, I think maybe we should work harder on confronting this confinement fear you have. I don’t like that he was able to use it to hurt you so easily, even if he claimed it was accidental. What do you say, Cass? Together?”
One thing I love about Sophia is that the scientist in her always creates a procedure to move forward, something to quantify improvement.
Though I would have never thought to do it myself, the idea of tackling the fear that has become my most exploited weakness actually makes me feel better, like the whole experience could make me stronger, somehow.
The sliver of hope expands in my heart, and I shoot my friend a grateful smile.
“Together.”
Feeling much lighter than I did at the start of this day, I steer onto my street, car rumbling over the compressed snow.
I wish I had confided in Soph a while ago.
Then again, as happy as I am to finally have her guidance and support, I know the new information will weigh heavily on her conscience.
She’s an extremely methodical person, which often tricks those around her into believing she can handle anything thrown her way.
I’m the only one who seems to see the emotional weight she absorbs like a sponge, releasing it all into the confines of her systematic mind.
It’s why I wanted to protect her from any pain in the first place.
I exhale a sigh of relief seeing that Veronica’s car is missing from the driveway, carefully driving up the icy surface and parking. As I slip from the driver’s seat, school bag in hand, a strange, dark car catches my eye in the side mirror.
It’s an expensive SUV. Too nice to blend into the cheap, college neighborhood.
Side-eyeing the suspicious sight, I make my way into the house and close the door.
My last conversation with Mikhail flashes through my mind, when he had shown up at my door a few days back and tried to feed me that deranged explanation.
Would he really show up again?
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with a righteous sense of anger. He better not be out there in that fancy car waiting for me to come home. I told him to leave me the fuck alone! After everything that happened, I honestly believed he would respect such a small, simple request.
Before I can second-guess my actions, I’m cranking open the front door once more, storming across the street in my knee-high snow boots. My knuckles smack against the tinted window a few times until it begins to slide open.
The blonde man who stares back at me looks strikingly familiar.
It doesn’t take long to place how I know him. He’s the one who was with Mikhail when that man drugged me at the club. And he’s the one who burst into that horrible room behind him, cracking into the frozen state of panic that surrounded me.
“Where is he?” I snap, too angry to feel any intelligent sense of fear.
“He’s not here. I’m Ivan. I’ve been assigned to watch over you for the time being.”
The man speaks carefully, as if trying to reason with a wild animal. I guess he’s not too far off. I wouldn’t put it past me to bite the motherfucker if he dared come any closer.
“Go watch over someone else! I don’t want anything to do with you people.”
“I just follow the orders. Take it up with the Pakhan,” he says, and then the window zips right back up, leaving me staring at a dark reflection of my own furious face in the tinted glass.
I let out a shout of frustration and spun on my feet, marching right back to the house. I rifle through my bag, locating my phone and pulling up the contact page. A few seconds later, I’m practically vibrating with rage as I wait for the ringtone to pick up.
“Cassandra, what’s wrong?”
His dark, urgent voice crackles through the line. I think I like it just a bit too much.
“What’s wrong? You left your lackey on my porch!” I grind into the mic, quickly remembering my fury at the situation.
“That’s just Ivan. Don’t worry about him, he’s only keeping guard.” Mikhail says in a voice that is way too calm for his ridiculous claim.
“The only person I need to be guarded from is you!”
“False.” He says simply.
I laugh cruelly, his words not making any sense.
“Tell him to leave. I don’t want him here. I don’t want any of you guys around.”
“No. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but the reality of the situation is that my enemies are now aware of who you are to me.
They knew enough about you to use it against me.
That makes you a target. I’ll respect your need for space from me, but not at the detriment of your own safety.
Until further notice, you will be followed by a guard everywhere you go. It’s for your own protection, Menace.”
“You’re the one who made me a target in the first place! Did you ever think that if you’d just leave me alone, I wouldn’t be in any more danger?” I ask hysterically.
“No. Not willing to risk it. Now, I’m afraid I’m in the middle of an important appointment, but feel free to call me back later. I miss hearing your voice.”
And with that confusing statement, he drops the call, leaving me stuck in place, listening to the three hang-up beeps that stretch into the quiet street beyond my porch.
I start back towards the door, but something catches my eye, a streak of purple I hadn’t noticed before. I bend down beside the welcome mat and reach for the small, peculiar bouquet.
It’s only when I bring it closer and catch the smell that I realize what it is. A small bunch of lavender is tied together with a woven rope, a little card tucked beneath.
I’m sorry.
-M