To Thine Own Self Be True

(The Sequel to All the World's A Stage)

"To Thine Own Self Be True."

~William Shakespeare~

I opened the door slowly and got out of the car, and then I closed it and locked it. I walked towards the memorial area and as I got closer, I saw that my cousin and his fiancée were already there. I walked over to them and each of them hugged me in turn. I saw that my Aunt was not yet there. I sat down in a chair as the adults around me conversed with once another and let my thoughts take over. A few minutes later a voice broke my thoughts. The voice belonged to Ned, who had in the recent weeks become my Aunt's protector. I turned to see my father, Carly, Jason, Roy, and Felicia there. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb. I knew that my Aunt had invited them, thus setting herself up. I schooled myself to remain where I was and not say a word. Moments later my Aunt appeared, dressed in a red power suit and of course she was wearing that necklace. I found it ironic that I too was wearing a necklace such as hers. The necklace that she wore was a gift from my Grandfather to her mother, a token of love. The necklace I wore was a two-tiered diamond necklace; it was a gift from my Grandfather to my Grandmother, a wedding gift. Grandmother had given it to me last year at the family auction. It led me to question what had gone wrong between the time that my necklace was commissioned and the time the other was commissioned. But before I could find an answer to that question, my Aunt's voice broke into my head.

"I thank you all for coming to commemorate my sister's murder," she said before asking everyone to sit and then taking a seat herself in the front row.

I sat silent and still as I watched Ned then Jax, Nikolas, and finally my Aunt speak about Kristina. I did share the same guilt as my cousin for not spending enough time with her. But it wasn't until my Aunt started to speak that I really started to listen. I could hear the guilt in her voice with every syllable that she spoke. But I also heard anger and disgust in her voice; this was directed in the direction of Jason, Roy, and my father. After she had finished and had sat down once more, I rose and went to the podium.

"The first thing that I noticed about my Aunt Kristina," I said, my own voice sounded foreign to my ears. "Was that she was definitely not your stereotypical Cassadine. Up until that time I didn't feel like anything was missing, but then I discovered that Kristina was that missing link in my family. She reminded me of an even looser version of my mother. I admit that I should've spent more time with Kristina, but as with everyone here life got in the way. I have only been on this earth a short time, but I know that I will never meet another person like Kristina again. She was one of those people that you meet only once and that change your life forever. But one thing that I did learn from her was to not dwell on past mistakes or anger. It wastes time, time that I now know is too precious to waste."

I stepped away from the podium and walked back to my seat. My mother's funeral flickered in my mind and I couldn't help but feel that same sense of disbelief now that I had felt then. My mother, Andrea Cassadine was my Uncle Stefan's twin sister. She had met my father before he had become this much feared mob boss in Central Park of all places. They fell in love, but their lives pulled them in different directions. But I always knew that I was loved no matter where my parents were. I was born Princess Jordana Michaela Stefanie Cassadine-Corinthos in the Cassadine Compound in Greece on July 14th, 1986. Although my Grandmother refused to allow my father to see me, my mother defied her and did the opposite, in secret of course. I grew up in Greece until I was 9 and then I was sent to a boarding school in Marseilles. However, when I was 13 my mother came to visit and wanted to bring me home, but I refused. (I later found out it was because Grandmother had wished it so.) We had an argument and she left on a plane bound for New York where she had a meeting the next day. That was the last time that I ever saw my mother alive. She died when the Cassadine Jet crashed over the Atlantic Ocean.  She is of course buried with my Grandfather and Uncle on the island. After my mother's death, my father won custody of me with the help of my Aunt. I have been here in this town ever since.

            It was then that I realized that my Aunt was yelling. I turned to see that my father was bearing the brunt of her accusations and insults. I cannot say exactly what I felt like at that very moment. But I knew that I was very angry, more angry then I have ever felt. I got up and it was as if I was detached from myself. I could see what was happening but from a distance. I stepped between my father and my Aunt, my eyes had gone cold, expressionless. I began to speak calmly, sternly and with a force.

            "Have you gotten any pleasure from this?" I asked staring her in the eye. I heard my father say something from behind me, but I continued. "You must have not been listening when I spoke about anger. You are angry about Kristina's death, I understand this, so am I. But my father did not set that bomb and you know it. Do you feel good throwing my father's pain in his face now? Do you enjoy ripping to shreds the memory of a little boy, my brother right in front of me? Does that give you the same pleasure that my Grandmother felt the day she slit your mother's throat right in front of you? Do you think that you can hide behind the family name that you have denied for years when it suits you? For 3 years I have not said a word about my mother's death and I haven't taken it out on one person. If you want to take out Kristina's death on someone, take it out on me, because I understand it, I've lived through a death and so have you, but do not presume to take it out on my father. He carries enough shit as it is, he doesn't need yours too."

            I stepped out from between them and left leaving the space silent in my wake. I got in my car and drove away, not thinking of the consequences I had left behind. As I drove along the road I felt like I had been dreaming. For some reason I thought that life would remain perfect the way that it was. But I was naïve because it didn't last, but yet I hoped it would. I saw now that my family would become divided, not just because of me, but because Kristina died.  At that moment, I felt like I had failed. I knew that Kristina wouldn't have wanted all of that anger at her funeral. But in the end, I was more angry at myself because I let my anger get the better of me.

            Up ahead the traffic light turned green and I speeded back up to a normal speed. I saw the road ahead of me, the yellow lines outlining the road. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts as passed the green light into the intersection that I didn't see the car speeding towards me. When I finally did, it was too late, the next thing I felt was a big jolt and then everything faded to black.

Shall I continue?