The Last Cut (Remake) /under construction//

Chapter 23

Cassie's Point of View

I knew he'd had a couple of drinks at the bar. I can tell every night when he stumbles in, eyes blood-shot, and knees shaking. Tonight though, he could barley hold himself up. As soon as he took a step into the house, he was collapsed on the couch, face first, groaning, and moaning like a sad puppy.

I took advantage of this; it's not everyday James would come home too drunk enough to hit me.

"Water," he chocked out, his voice muffled against the pillow. I sighed, and made my way into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water in the fridge, and making my way towards him. I placed the water on the coffee table, and waited patiently until he drank it, and handed it to me to throw away.

"She died," he murmured, after a moment of silence.

I didn't know who 'she' was, but I listened quietly.

"So many people joke about death; Like it's some kind of disease that only a few people catch by making mistakes. Like catching HIV because you didn't wear a condom, or not washing your hands after you pee."

He paused, staring at the ceiling-his eyes looking lost; all watery, red, and angry.

"You don't catch death by making mistakes, Cassie."

He sighed, and rubbed the side of his jaw, a light stubble beginning to form due to not shaving.

"Do you think you will die right now? Does anyone think like that? You see, I don't think so. I like to think that everyone still believes that there's still hope. That someone can 'save' them. I guess that's why in the movies, the killer has to tape the girls mouth shut because even though she knows she's in an abandon building in the middle of a forest where no one will ever hear her, she keeps screaming."

He continued, "Maybe we're all just wired to think like that. We're so used to people telling us, 'it'll be okay, it'll be alright' that we forget about what happens in reality."

I gripped at my sleeves, pulling them down to cover my hands nervously.

"I think that if we weren't wired like that we'd all be paranoid and go crazy. Imagine that," he laughed wildly, tears streaming down his face in agony,"Always feeling as if you're not okay. That no one will save you. I think I'm wired like that. I think I'm quite paranoid sometimes, too."

He stared up at me, eyes trailing towards the sleeves I wouldn't stop pulling down, before his green eyes connected with mine again.

"I envy people like you. People who will always have hope-even after all they've been through. I kind of wish I was wired like that."

I couldn't stop my mouth from opening,"Why are you telling me this?"

He looked up at me wearily, before closing his eyes. He tilted his head back up towards the ceiling, and smiled lazily,"I took some pills a while back..."

My heart began to pick up.

"Maybe it was one. Maybe it was the whole bottle," his eyes fluttered, sleepily, "I'll let you decide, Cassie."

"Why are you doing this?", I asked, my breath shaking wildly.

"I'm giving you a choice. You can leave me here. You can have your freedom. Maybe they'll put you in another adoption agency where the father doesn't beat the crap out of you. But the guilt will eat you alive. You'd be killing a man, and you'd be on the same level as me. Or, you can call the ambulance, and save me...living your life forever in hopes of someone saving you."