10. Cassandra Walker
The monster that lived inside me was slamming against the bars of its cage, and I was too consumed by what I think might have been fear to care.
I couldn’t be sure it was fear, but it felt similar to how I had felt the day Cal had shown up at Fairview with a near-fatal bullet wound.
Something was wrong.
It had been subtle, but I knew better than to ignore my instincts.
I was a pro at recognizing micro expressions in people…
yet another byproduct of being raised in an abusive environment.
Reading people’s moods and energy was a survival skill that most abused children developed without even realizing it, and I was no exception.
I’d done the breathing exercises my therapist had taught me on the drive back to my condo, but they weren’t working as well as they normally did. I was still trying to self-soothe on my way up the elevator and into my penthouse.
By the time I’d changed out of my Chanel skirt and blouse, I was still trying to quell the pacing beast in my chest, and I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that it wouldn’t settle until I knew Theo was okay.
Growling in frustration, I yanked on a pair of Lululemon tights and a matching black hoodie instead of starting my nighttime skincare routine.
It seemed that despite my best efforts to keep Theo at arm’s length, that little masochist had managed to worm her way onto the very short list of people I considered to be mine, and I was not happy about it.
There was a reason I didn’t have many friends or didn’t participate in any serious, long-term romantic relationships.
And no, it wasn’t because I was a huge cunt, fuck you very much.
Believe it or not, I knew how to be likable. Most psychopaths did. If I cared to, I could easily mask and turn myself into the perfect partner for anyone I set my sights on.
It was easier than you might think.
All you needed to do was learn someone’s interests and act as interested as they were.
The next step was anticipating their needs and wants, then making sure to fulfill them.
Asking them questions about themselves and giving them your undivided attention when they talked was another sure-fire way to get someone to like you.
Easy, really, though usually pretty boring.
The thing was, you didn’t even have to do this forever. Just in the early stages until they got attached, then you could morph back into your true self, and then they typically began to chase after you, craving the attention and adoration you showered them with in the early stages.
I knew how to do all these things, and when I was younger, I did it frequently. I was popular in school and had an endless line of men following me around like love-sick puppies in college.
The problem was that if I ever did get truly attached to someone, it was usually bad news for everyone involved, including me.
I typically became obsessive, possessive, and extremely controlling.
I saw people as belongings–my therapist’s words, not mine–and I didn’t like to share my things.
I also took very good care of my belongings, but that meant they sometimes needed to do things they didn’t want to do, or risk my wrath.
It was exhausting for me, and it was exhausting for whoever it was my fucked up brain had decided to stake ownership on.
The last time I’d allowed myself to grow attached to someone was in my second year of college. Her name had been Samantha, and she’d been my ‘best friend.’
Well. That hadn’t lasted long. Samantha hadn’t seemed to understand that her other friends were bad for her. She didn’t like that I refused to let her party with them, especially after the second time I’d needed to come pick her up after they’d abandoned her because she’d gotten way too drunk.
It literally felt like I’d loaned my favorite book to someone and they’d returned it all stained and dog-eared.
Samantha was my friend. If they were going to take her out, I wanted her returned to me in the same, if not better, condition she’d left in. And that just hadn’t been the case.
When I’d told Samantha I didn’t want her going out with those neanderthals anymore, she’d become insufferable.
She refused to listen to my rules, which infuriated me, and she’d called me a controlling bitch…
which, while probably true, was also necessary, considering she was shit at making good choices for herself.
Fuck me for caring, I guess.
It didn’t help that when I got attached to people, my monster did too, and it was dangerous for them.
My monster acted as a protector, for the most part, so if it felt like the people I cared about were a threat to me, it usually wanted to… You guessed it… kill them.
I’d managed to keep it from slaughtering Samantha for abandoning us, but it had been too close for comfort.
That had been a lesson.
I wasn’t capable of just having normal relationships. I would always be controlling, overprotective, and unreasonable, and the monster in my chest would always be violent, spiteful, and unpredictable.
Theo wouldn’t like that.
No one seemed to like that, if I was being honest, which is why I didn’t even bother to form friendships anymore.
But… Theo seemed to be this strange anomaly. I’d never masked in front of her, and she still gave me those annoyingly adorable puppy-dog eyes all the time. She still seemed to like me, even though the first time I met her, I’d literally shoved my nail in an open cut on her face to make a point.
As much as I loved that so much it borderline turned me on, it was still problematic in its own right.
I was starting to understand that Theo liked being hurt. Why else would she do what she did for a living?
And if Theo ended up on my list, I wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her. I would expect her to take better care of her body because if I truly leaned into what my obsessive mind was telling me to do, her body would belong to me.
She would belong to me.
And like I said.
I took very good care of my belongings.
Whether they liked it or not.
It was almost three am by the time I pulled into Fairview. All the lights were off in the main house, which meant Ryan and Cal were probably passed out.
I was grateful for that, as I didn’t want to have to deal with Callum giving me a hard time about swinging by Theo’s place in the wee hours of the morning.
I’d never hear the end of it.
My Pumas made no sound as I slipped out of my Audi and onto the paved driveway that led to Theo’s guesthouse.
Her place was tucked behind the gothic mansion that housed the funeral home, and it looked like a mini version of the main house. It was painted the same phthalo green with black trim, but the massive garden Iris and Ryan religiously tended to gave her tiny living quarters a more cottagey vibe.
I’d toyed with the idea of texting her before coming here, but I was worried she would just ignore me if she didn’t feel like talking… and, well, I didn’t really give a fuck if she didn’t feel like talking.
She was going to talk to me if I wanted her to.
I slinked up her front steps and shamelessly hammered on her door.
“Theodora!” I called, knowing from experience that the walls to this house were thin and she would hear me if she was inside.
After a few seconds, I paused, listening carefully for her signature lazy shuffle. That damn woman barely picked up her feet when she walked. It drove me nuts.
When I didn’t hear anything after a solid minute, that tight, panicky feeling in my chest intensified.
Maybe she hadn’t come home?
I peeked around the back and noted her Honda sitting there, forlorn and forgotten, in the small, hidden parking spot she kept it in so it wouldn’t get in the way of funeral transport.
My frown deepened.
Her car was here, but she wasn’t.
That fluttery, panicky feeling turned to something sharper when I remembered how flirty that bartender had been, and suddenly, I wasn’t just worried.
I was unreasonably pissed off.
‘Told you we should have killed her.’
‘What if that chick’s secretly an ax murderer or something!?’
‘It is statistically improbable that she is an ax murderer.’
‘Because she’s a woman? Please, if you had your way, I would be a fucking ax murderer!’
My monster chuckled, and I scowled.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I would never use an ax. Much too cumbersome. I prefer a weapon with more finesse.”
My scowl deepened. I hated that my beast wasn’t taking this seriously.
It was right, though. I didn’t really think the bartender was an ax murderer, but I didn’t like the way she’d been looking at Theo like she was something to eat.
Something about that had just irked me, and I wasn’t willing to think too much about why.
All I knew was I didn’t like it, and I was going to put a stop to it so I didn’t have to deal with these itchy, uncomfortable feelings anymore.
“Theodora!!!” I screeched, hammering on the door again. I banged until my hand got sore, and I waited, hoping like hell the door would swing open at any moment to reveal a sleepy, safe, but maybe thoroughly annoyed Theo…
After several minutes and still no answer, I resorted to less… legal tactics.
Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I selected the one I still had from when I’d lived here for a few weeks, and shoved it in the lock.
Think you can ignore me, Theodora? Nobody ignores me.
I stepped into her apartment, and my skin immediately sheeted with goosebumps.
It was dark and clearly completely empty. It felt wrong and… depressing.
“Theo?” I called, even though I could already sense she wasn’t in here.
Nothing but silence echoed back as I stalked like a shadow through her apartment.
It was just as drab as it had been when I’d lived here. There was barely anything on the walls, and the furniture didn’t have an ounce of personality. It was like she didn’t expect to stay here long, even though I knew she’d been here for years.
My feet carried me to her room, which was as quiet and empty as the rest of the space. Her bed was neatly made, and something about the thought of Theo carefully making her bed in the morning, just for her to return to it alone, made me achingly sad.
Clenching my hands into fists, I found myself poking my head into her bathroom.
I told myself it was just morbid curiosity, and not because I was afraid I’d find an empty bottle of pills or something equally fucked up.
I let out a long sigh of relief when the only thing I found was a bunch of cotton swabs scattered across the floor.
Crouching down, I cleaned them up and tossed them in the trash, wondering why there were so many on the floor.
Theo wasn’t a messy person. These little swabs felt out of place. It felt like they meant something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of what.
She’s probably just out getting laid.
Half of me hoped that was true, while the other half hated the thought of Theo being with someone who didn’t understand the level of care she needed. Gritting my teeth, I struggled with the urge to start spamming her phone.
You’re being paranoid, Cassandra. Chill.
After doing one more sweep of her space to make sure I wasn’t missing some vital clue as to where she’d gone, I finally decided to go home.
I would text Cal to let me know when she inevitably came back from whatever one-night stand she was probably indulging in… then maybe this uncomfortable feeling in my chest would finally go away.