Chapter Five
Follow (v.): To go or come after
Two years later.
It wasn't until Cassandra saw his back retreating, that she realized her entire life was living in a past tense. She used to be good, she used to be pure, she used to be in love…with Stanton. It wasn't until the false smile had dropped from his face, and the light chuckle he had always given her had vanished, that she realized she wasn't quite ready to give up on…on whatever this was.
"Don't go," She whispered pathetically, her arms wrapped around herself in a pathetic hug.
His footsteps halted, momentarily, "What?" He replied, as if he didn't believe her simple request.
The maroon-haired Follower hesitantly inched towards his retreating back, "Please don't go." Her voice was slightly louder, but still insecure.
He snorted, "And why not?"
Cassandra rocked back and forth on her feet slightly as she patiently awaited reason to hit her, "Because." She supplied lamely.
"Be…cause," Tymmie drawled out the word, mocking her. His voice fell, "Not good enough, Cassandra." He swerved on his heel, to face her, and gray eyes, like chips of granite, bored into hers, "Give me your real reason."
She teased her lower lip between her teeth, terrified to give him the real reason, afraid of rejection, "You'll be betraying the Atrox." She mumbled.
A snort, "An Outcast caring about the Atrox?" He scoffed, before turning around again, "If that's all you have to say, then I see no point to sticking around. Go back to your sick little puppy love with Stanton."
His words hit her like a slap in the face and she restrained the tears collecting in her eyes, "I…" She inhaled shakily, "I don't want to go back to Stanton."
Yet again, he faced her, a sneer twisting his features, "You wanted it enough to get that stupid tattoo," He muttered, his left thumb gently tracing the area over her hip, and Cassandra pathetically tried to quell the electric sensation that had occurred when he touched her, "And to give yourself that stupid scar," He continued, his right hand pressing against her chest.
They stood there, uncomfortably for a few moments, their breaths mingling but neither knowing what the next appropriate move was, and neither wanting to leave. For leaving would be the end.
"Why," Tymmie exhaled huskily at last, and she shivered from the warm breath on her face, "Should I stay here, Cassandra?"
She trembled. She knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she had hated him at first, that the hate had grown into a rivalry, that the rivalry had grown into respect, respect into friendship, and friendship…into something else entirely.
"I'm waiting," He muttered.
Cassandra wanted him to kiss her then. She didn't want to kiss him, because that would mean rejection, so she paused for a second, expectantly. When nothing happened, she swallowed the lump in her throat and said the first thing on her mind, the worst thing she could have said, "Because you're not him."
The warmth that had filled her with being in his presence disappeared quickly as he started walking, a deadly and murderous intent hovering around him, "Come get me when you figure out what the hell it is you want, Cassandra." He bit out viciously, as he sauntered off to fulfill his end of Lambert the traitor's generous offer.
Cassandra, outcasted and alone, sunk to her knees as hot tears collected in the corner of her eyes and she watched him walk away. In the darkness, she wished she had the courage to follow after him as he disappeared from her life.
AN: I went kind of crazy on the writing tonight…One chapter left!
!nym!
