Hey y'all!
So after watching season 4, so far anyway, I realized that I never got to watch season 2!
So two days of bendge watching and catching up I decided to write another AHS fanfic, since it's been so long.
As always I don't own anything except Cassandra, so please don't steal her. And I will apologize now for skipping around in this story.
Enjoy!

My name is Cassandra Jones, and this is the story of how I died.
The year was 1963, the catholic church had bought the lovely Briarcliff the year before, eight months before I was admitted for murdering my parents and newborn brother. I'm not insane, just one hell of a little actress, I played the jury like puppets, having them believe I wasn't fit for society, so they sent me here. I think prison would have been better, at only 20 I was the youngest female to be admitted into Briarcliff at the time. Within the first few months I was exposed to every form of punishment Sister Jude had to offer.


I remember when Kit Walker came to Briarcliff a year later, he was accused of being the famed Bloody Face, known for skinning three women and cutting off their heads. When I first laid eyes on him I knew he couldn't have killed three women, one maybe but not three, a tall drink of water with blonde hair and the clearest brown eyes I had ever seen. He didn't fit in with the rest of the crazies here, he was normal like Shelly, other than being diagnosed with nymphomania she was a sweetheart with a soft heart, Grace, like me she was convicted of killing her parents, and I. We were the only sane ones out of the inmates.


Grace and I watched him as he walked into the common room, obviously in a daze from experiencing Sister Jude's cane, he shoved Shelly away from him as she flirted, nudging Grace I nodded towards the record player, she looked up from our monopoly game her eyes landing on Kit as he turned to turn off the music we were forced to listen to. Grace taking pity on the new kid ran over and stopped him from doing what all of us so desperately wanted to do but knew the punishment wasn't worth it. Unfortunately that's when one of the more dangerous inmates, a man named John we were never told his last name, one of the few men here I made it a point to stay out of his way, he maybe short but he was covered in muscle and had one hell of a temper. Making one comment about how Kit killed a colored girl and the fight was on. Watching from my spot, I didn't even flinch when Sister Jude came in with her stupid silver whistle. After two years you've seen enough fights, and been involved in enough, that when one breaks out it doesn't even faze you.
"He'll learn, just like the rest of us."
Grace looked at me while the guards dragged Kit out.
"You think he did it?"
I shook my head.
"Kid can't fight very well, I don't see him as a killer."


Lights out, the worst time of the day. It's never quiet enough to sleep, my mind always wonders to a better time. A long time ago it seems, when I was simply the oldest daughter of a perfect, happy, middle class family. My father owned a new cars lot, my mother was a stay at home mother who always dreamed of having the perfect family. I was the perfect high school student, valedictorian, head cheerleader; the perfect little daughter. I had a boyfriend, quarterback for the football team, he wasn't the brightest but he made for a good puppet. I had my eye on one boy, a boy who was on his way to becoming a doctor, Oliver Thredson, child prodigy, he had no family and was socially awkward. I only knew him for two years before he graduated. I sometimes wonder whatever happened to him, when the nights get lonely. If I hadn't been so concerned about image at the time I would have befriended him. But with the pressure from my parents there was just no way, by the time I was 19 I couldn't handle the pressure anymore, they were disappointed that I wasn't married and they didn't have any grandchildren on the way yet my mother had just given birth to my baby brother. So, on my twentieth birthday, I had enough and snapped. Using one of my father's hunting knifes I waited until my family was asleep before sneaking into their bedroom, stabbing my father twenty times in the chest and my mother twenty-five, I was going to leave my brother and let him belong to the state but he started crying, so I slit his throat. The police found me sitting on the living room floor and covered in their blood the next morning.

So what do we think?
Remember to review and I will post chapter 2 faster!