»part 16 » cassie

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"cassie's been waiting too long, the drug in her veins is too strong..." - chase atlantic - cassie

The addict consumes all aspects of my head

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The addict consumes all aspects of my head.

She's in my brain, peering under vessels and veins, looking for a way to set herself free. The addict digs into my psychosis and buries her needs into the weakest parts of mine. She breathes me in and breathes herself out. Her heart beats into mine, filled with acid and dopamine. My addict seeps her nails into my sanity with little remorse for the little girl who begs to be recognized.

She won't stop until she rips apart my ribs and digs her way until my lungs and fills every part of my body with her psychotic ways.

Soon, I'll be her. And she'll be me.

Ugly. Raw. Unfiltered.


My whole-body quaked under the cold water, as I washed away all of Lip and I's mischievous acts from the night before. I woke in sweat, shaking like my whole body would break into a million pieces. My legs felt like they would snap underneath me, and my arms felt like they would fall off at any moment. Every part of my body hurt in inexplicable ways. There was a deep pain in my chest and an aching in my teeth. It was like I was hungover, without the drinking.

But I knew what it was.

It was the withdrawal.

My mouth was dry and my eyes were sore. All my ligaments and muscles were screaming at me like bloody murder. The only way to silence them was to drench myself in ice cold water.

Today was the day.

It was the day that they were going to bury my father six-feet-under. I couldn't tell what I was feeling past all the aching. I didn't know if I was sad, angry, or happy. It was all an enigma to me. I've never faced a death in the family, which I guess makes me fortunate, so all of this was new to me. Do you really have to wear black? Do you have to carry tissues on you? What am I supposed to say when people ask who I am? Will they know?

Endless thoughts plagued my mind as I hoped out the shower, and wrapped a towel around my soaked body.

I sniffled before turning on my heels and walking out the door. Dark thoughts lingered in my mind as I tried to avoid the fact that I was dying for a line.

How I was dying for anything to take the pain away.


I pulled down at the hem of Fiona's black dress as Lip started the car. Getting ready this morning was a hassle. My hands were shaking so bad that I could barely apply any mascara. My hair wouldn't cooperate, like always. I didn't own a dress for a funeral so my next best option was to rummage through Fiona's clothes. The dress was super short with a deep V that showed way too much of my sternum which made me feel like people would think I was more of a prostitute rather than his daughter. Not to mention, I'm wearing an old pair of Vee's pumps. On my way out of the house, my converse got caught under the door, causing a huge to rip to tear all the fabric apart.

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