The Beautiful Ones

AN: I finished National Novel Writing Month, got a four point on the paper that was thirty percent of my grade in one class, am passing math, and I'm one paper away from being done with my English class. How do I celebrate? I wrote a chapter of this.

I'm a dork.

Cassandra dragged her suitcase behind her. Stanley was safely tucked into her arms. She knew that Criss would have a car waiting for her. She knew that she should get in it, should drive to wherever it was he wanted her to go.

She slipped out of the hotel, away from the security g guards and all the people that would follow her. Of course, they were only supposed to protect her, keep her safe. Cassandra chuckled at the idea. It was too late for anyone to save her.

There was only one place she could think to go. Somewhere someone would want her. At that moment, there was only one person in the world that she could think who would want her. With a smile, she climbed onto a bus.

People stared at the girl with the suitcase, but she didn’t pay them any mind. She simply stared out the window as the city passed her by through a layer of glass. She wondered idly how easy it would be to break the glass. Would a heavy rock do it? Would a bullet?

What would it take to shatter that protective shield? How simple would it be for someone to get to her if they wanted to? Criss had reached through everything, reached into her and held her heart in his hand. And he squeezed until it had shattered, squeezed until her whole life crumbled into dust.

She wouldn’t mind, she thought, if something did get to her now. She had nothing left to save her.

**

“Oh, Cassandra,” Dimitra murmured when she saw the girl standing on her porch, holding the suitcase and the bunny.

“What happened? Where’s Criss?”

“He doesn’t want me anymore.” Cassandra bit her lower lip and looked up with eyes that glimmered with unshed tears.

“Did he say why?”

“Because I lied. I deserved it. I lied,” she rocked back and forth, clutching her bunny. Dimitra ushered her in, sucking in her breath. She had never seen anyone looking so distraught.

She closed the door behind Cassandra, sitting her on the couch and handing her a cup of tea. Cassandra could not drink it; she could only stare at her reflection in the dark liquid.

“Drink, darling. You need it.”

“I don’t need anything but him.” She said dully. “I need him to want me again, Dimitra.”

“Shh,” the older woman crooned, sitting next to the girl and hugging her tightly. She rocked back and forth.

“Where am I going to go now? He said he got me a hotel room, but I just can’t stand to be by myself right now.”

“You’ll stay with me, of course.” Dimitra smiled, as though there had never been any question of the matter. “I’ll make you up the couch right now. You go and wash up.”

Cassandra sat in the little powder room. She stared at her reflection in the cool mirror. Marveling at how put together she looked, she reached out and touched the glass, smearing it with her fingerprints. Shouldn’t she look like a mess on the outside? She was falling apart on the inside. Shouldn’t that be reflected? Shouldn’t everyone look at her and know that?

Her legs were wobbly as she wandered back out to the living. She looked at Dimitra and smiled.

“You’re beautiful,”

“Thank you, darling.” The woman bit her lip and led the girl to the couch, where she helped her lay down. In seconds, the girl was asleep, curled tightly around a pillow.

“Oh, Christopher. What have you done?”