Meet Me in the Middle

Chapter 5: Cassie

That evening, my nightmares plagued me again.

In my dimly lit room, I thrashed and turned, aware of my current predicament in the dreamscape but unable to get myself out of it. I dreamt of Patricia and the cold, daring hallways of the dorms. We were being chased by something, a sinister shadow enveloping the halls as we ran; hand in hand. Trying to get out figuratively and literally, I ran into any crevice or entrance I could find; wanting this hellscape to end once and for all.

After what felt like an eternity of running as fast as we could, a sudden jolt on my arm made me slow down on my feet. Turning back, the warmth of my friend's hand was gone. A scream enveloped the walls as she was dragged away. Panting, I tried to run back to her, but everything was just too dark. With no sense of direction, I cried.

Feeling weaker and weaker, I collapsed behind a wall. Heavy footsteps emanated from just behind me, I tried to muffle my voice as best as I could but whimper after whimper; it was no use.

The monster was getting closer. I shut my eyes as hard as I could.

It's just a dream.

This isn't real.

Wake up, Cassandra.

Just open your eyes, it'll be over.

Darkness enveloped my being, I felt like I was being transported to someplace else. I tried to focus more on getting out, I need to get out.

"Cassandra, wake up!" My dad's voice woke up me, I felt his heavy grip on my shoulders. Almost lifting me as he shook me slightly.

Still, in a panic, I pried his hand away from me, scurrying back until I hit the headboard against my bed. Catching my breath, I slowly got released from the hold of the nightmare that occurred just seconds ago. Gulping, my throat felt raw and scratchy and my body felt numb and in raw pain. Pain?

"Honey, what happened to your arms?" my father's voice spoke up as he came closer. With shaking hands, I feel the surface of my arms, a stinging pain emanating from them as lines of scratches were displayed on the surface. From my still disoriented vision, I could point out the angry, red marks that littered both my arms.

"I-what?" my voice broke. My already damp face was wet by the new tears that started to stream down my cheeks.

Realizing my predicament I crawl my way to my dad, throwing my body against him in an unruly attempt for a hug. He enveloped me, as I sobbed my heart out against his chest, his nightshirt getting damp by my crying.

We stayed there for a while, his hands patting my back in an attempt to comfort me through whatever emotions I was going through at that moment. After my sobbing subsided, we made our way to my bathroom. Gently handling my bloodied arms, he washed them and applied a healing ointment, carefully treating each irritated and blaring wound.

-

"My name's Cassandra"

I said, looking at him softly while awaiting his reaction.

"Why do you look uncomfortable while saying your name?" he said, an unreadable expression plastered on his face.

A sudden flashback came to me.

It was one of those brutal, winter months again.

My clothes weren't that thick to shield me from the cold, so I always brought a scarf around me to keep a semblance of warmth. The chilling school bells rang, echoing through the dark walls of the dining hall. Like clockwork, we all rush to the academy just around the corner from our main building. Carefully traversing just shy of the crowd, I make it to class exasperated.

"Everyone, please sit down in your assigned seats. It's time to take attendance for today's lecture" Sister Ruth, chimed as the room filled with children. Each kid scuffled quietly to their rickety, wooden chairs.

I sat at the very back, the only spot left without much of a hassle to squeeze into.

The nun started to call our surnames in alphabetical order, each kid reciting their full name coupled with a 'present'. Times like this in primary school weren't all that eventful, everyone just getting ready for their day and preparing for the incoming lessons and prayers.

"Torrence."

"Hannah Torrence, Present"

"Tolkien."

"Francesca Tolkien, Present"

"Underbelt."

"Rose Underbelt, Present"

"Yuan."

I gulped, "Cassie Yuan, Present"

Then in just a moment's silence, all eyes were on me. I couldn't see them, but I felt them. Each one carries a heavy load of judgment, the heaviest being of Sister Ruth's.

"Excuse me?" she suddenly said, spite in her voice as she rose up from her seat. "Who is this Cassie Yuan, young lady?"

My whole body froze, chills creeping up my spine as I felt my mouth fully shut, dry of any reasoning or response.

I feared there was no right answer, I feared I was right.

Briskly pushing back her seat, she walked towards me. Her every step was an alarm that blared my every sense to just run. Her heels clacked against the concrete, classroom floor. All was silent.

"Identities are important, one should know their true name by heart," she spoke as she stopped in front of me.
"Let this be a reminder to you all children"

"You do not belong in my class, Cassie Yuan" She finally looked at me. At that moment I was glad to have had the blessing of not seeing her true, seething expression because I could've died right then and there.

I was stripped of all my clothing from head to toe. All but that one puny scarf.

With a piece of fabric being my only warmth, it woefully defeated its purpose as it only fanned my already freezing neck. Wildly flopping by the strong gust of below-zero wind.

I stood, trembling ever so slightly staring at the bleak landscape and realized, winter's only pretty when you're warm.

It was a miracle that I didn't die that day.

I was snapped out of the memory by Luke abruptly standing up, and walking somewhere in the distance. After a short while, he came back and retrieved a small rock from his pocket, just the size of his small palm.

"Your name's too long," he said meekly, wiping the dirt and dust off the rock and retrieving a sharper, pointer fragment.

I stared at him in disbelief, confused by his out-of-the-blue opposition to my name.

"What?" I replied, still puzzled by his comment.

"I said" he started. Sitting closer to me, he started to scrape the two pieces of stone together.

"Your name's too long, I prefer to call you Cassie"

I stayed silent. Hearing only the noise produced by the forest and the slow, but steady scraping of the stone Luke had been handling for a couple of minutes now. I supposed I'd felt relieved.

It was a confusing feeling to me, having common ground without struggle and someone understanding what I've been yearning to do for years.

A small hand suddenly gently guided mine, placing it on the smooth stone etched with precision. I traced my fingers through the rough surface, feeling out the subtle, but textured letters written on the surface.

"Cassie, this is your name" he finally said, handing the stone to me.

It was a corny thought to have. I felt every groove and it felt liberating, in a way. Something as simple as a name, an identifying expression given to a person; theoretically and etched into stone. Written there in permanence, forever.

That day, I was reborn into someone I have always been.

That day, I finally found my true identity.