A/N Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I love getting those ;) This chapter is Cassie's POV…

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Cassandra Martins leaned against her kitchen counter, sifting through the mail that she had just brought in from outside. No bills this time, just some realtor ads, a coupon book and something about a new place with free pizza delivery. She was about to throw it all out when the last, official-looking, envelope caught her eye.

A return address from Iowa.

Her heart stopped beating for a second. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then – stared. Stared at the letter as if it was made of poison. She felt sick to her stomach and was worried she'd throw up any minute if that sudden nervousness that had appeared in an instant wouldn't disappear as quickly as it had come.

The thought of pretending she'd never seen the piece of paper and just throwing it out with the rest of the junk crossed her mind. However, she would always know that it had been there - so she did the next best thing and ripped it open quickly. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she finally persuaded herself to read whatever it was that she held in her shaking hands.

After she'd finished, she stared again. This time across the table and out of the window. The man that had donated his sperm to bring her into existence was no more. She wondered briefly what one could possibly inherit from an alcoholic/drug addict that had been basically homeless for his entire life – that was if you didn't count the hut that had been their 'home' when the whole family, in the most ironic sense of the word, had all still lived under one roof. Besides that thought, there was NOTHING. She had never felt so numb, and in this particular moment, it was almost like she couldn't even remember ever feeling anything at all. Tears flooded her eyes because of it, yet she refused to let them fall.

As she was concentrating on not crying, Cassandra thought back to the day she had left her much-hated home state of Iowa to start a new life in California. She had been 16, and in the weeks leading up to it, her father had made certain 'advances', that she had pushed into the far back of her mind until today. Even though he had never managed to rape her in the actual horrible sense of the word, she was sure now that it would only have been a matter of time.

Back then, two friends of hers, both a couple of years older and from the same neighborhood, had talked about moving far far away to escape their own life of daily abuse and violence. So when they had presented her with a Greyhound bus ticket to Los Angeles one morning, her decision was made. She knew her parents would never look for her, if they'd even realize she was missing at all. So within a day, she had packed her scarce belongings and spent the night before the big journey wrapped tightly in her dirty blankets, praying with all she had that her Dad would not choose this night to come home semi-sober.

Alex had lain next to her that evening, so she told him she loved him for the last time. When he had fallen asleep, she got up quietly and left for her friend's house. She knew she wouldn't go anywhere if she'd spent the night next to her brother. She had wanted to take him to California too, but her girls had talked her out of it. Too young, too great of a responsibility, think of the potential consequences. One day, when you have some money saved up, they'd said, you'll come back for him.

And she had in a way. Almost ten years later – she had already been married for a couple of years – she'd returned to her hometown. Her husband Michael had stayed in California for work, and as she had walked down her old street, she couldn't recall what had possessed her to come in the first place. However, as fate would have it, she had run into an old neighbor at the local convenience store, gladly accepting his invitation to dinner. His wife had still been alive at the time, and that evening, over fried chicken and coleslaw, she listened to her family's story as if she was watching a movie – a rough, abbreviated version of what it must've really been like. Her father's forced exit, Alex's 'almost'-brushes with the law, their mother's death. After she had left the Johnson residence that night, she went straight to the cemetery to look for her Mom's gravesite. Once she had found it, she'd sat down on the cold grass and wept for hours. She flew back home the next morning.

That day in Iowa, she'd also learned that her brother had gone off to college somewhere locally, but no one was too sure where that 'somewhere' was. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't regret leaving her baby brother in the arms of her volatile father and her helpless mother, and even though he was the only one still alive, it was losing him that had hurt the most.

As opposed to her upbringing in Iowa, California had turned out to become a real-life fairytale, and sometimes she still couldn't believe how well everything had gone. It almost was the typical story that dreams were made of. Job as a waitress, handsome customer turned husband, 4-year old twin boys and a 6-year old girl. Of course there had been ups and downs and struggles along the way, but for her, it was near damn perfect. Michael knew about her past, yet she had spared him the gory details.

Cassandra sighed again, pushed her auburn hair out of her face and closed her eyes. Her husband and kids had chosen this exact weekend for a visit with her parents-in-law down in San Diego, and she wondered if it really was pure coincidence only that left her home alone now. She looked down at the letter again. The attorney's office – no surprise there – had a phone number. She hesitated.

Maybe now was the time to face her past. And there was only one person she could face it with – because he had lived it alongside her.

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