She's been on the train of depression for a while now. Stuck on it constantly, never being able to get off and actually stay off. If she had been told when she woke up that morning what the day ahead held she would have answered in her usual, pessimistic manner of 'oh don't be stupid' or 'stop taking whatever it is that creates these ideas in your head'. Maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe she would have had time to change things.
Usually Cassie Drew's day consisted of very little, she saw herself as a ghost and was very certain she wasn't the only one. A talking, walking and living ghost who went about her daily life her way. Every weekday she'd have the same struggle to not wake up, but actually get up, like most teenagers her age she wasn't that different to anyone else, at least her monk he weren't. The distinctive sounds of a cat that always was sat up on her bed without fail always ruined the remainder of any chance of her staying asleep. Her dainty paws would always be so carefully placed; shed lie so precisely and delicately. Yet, she remained that scruffy ball of fur she'd always been. From her late night Cassie would as ever have forgotten to shut her curtains which when daylight came meant not only the delicate purrs awaking her, but she would always be greeted by the early rays of the sun. Her room was simple with little on it. On the window - where her only light came from - was the colour of blue. A blinding blue, the colour of the fragile, little head that sat on the old oak tree, bound to capture anyone's eye. It'd be chirping away with such a sense of joy and what can only be described as freedom in its song. It brought an almost smile to her lips, the sides of her chapped mouth would slowly turn upward as a smile would play at her lips.
"Cass?" The soft voice came in from behind the close door. "Cassie, you awake?" Without much hesitation or wait footsteps came towards Cassie. Cassie moved. She dragged herself up into a sitting position off the floor. The clang of her head hitting the radiator filled the room. The footsteps went in for a cuddle, her small, limp arms engulfed Cassie as much as she could. Rosie held her tight. Looking up at her sister with big eyes, her voice spoke those three words. "I love you," spoken in a voice that was only just more than a whisper. Rosie jerked Cassie to try and wake her up fully. Rosie was only just a teenager herself and didn't understand why Cassie was the way she was. She traced her fingers onto Cassie's hoodie, pulled up the sleeves, knowing exactly what she'd find. Tracing her fingers across the bumps on her arm lay the fading remains of fresh blood. The red that covered her arms stained them, with excess on the carpet already sunken in. Her other arm was stained and in her hand held the thing that she couldn't have taken away from her. Her enemy was clasped in her hand, the sharp edge reflecting onto the wall. Rosie never knew where her blades were from, or where she got them. She found it too hard to understand. Cassie with her wide eyes just stated into space, into nothing. She didn't move. Even when Rosie's legs clicked as she stood up, let go of her sister and walked out Cass did not move. "I'll get Dad. This time I have to," he spoke calmly, but the alarm in her voice could be heard. She was half expecting a reply. No chance. Cassie didn't even try to speak, she couldn't. She had no energy, nothing. She wasn't there. The real Cassie had been buried a whole ago, but the rest of her had been left wandering around life emotionless. She was numb.
