Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter Two: The Sister
As soon as they walked into the coffee shop, heads turned and she realized that everyone was staring at her. Even the drunks who probably came straight from last call at the bar were staring. She licked her lips and pulled his leather jacket tighter. Glancing at him, she saw the apologetic look on his face. "If you want to clean up a little the bathroom's over there," he said pointing to the back.
She nodded and moved through the shop, ignoring the looks she was getting. She also chose to ignore the whispers and remarks – speculations on everything from her being a prostitute whose pimp whaled on her to being beaten by her boyfriend, who was now taking her out to make up for it.
In the bathroom, she locked the door behind her and turned to look at herself. She gasped at what she saw. Her hair was a tangled mess, with bits of leaves and trash in it. She picked out the scraps and desperately tried to finger-comb through it, not having much luck. The left side of her face was swollen and red, and she wet a piece of paper towel from the dispenser and held it to her skin, trying to negate the swelling. After a few minutes, she gave up and tried to clean the rest of her face, which was streaked with make-up. Mascara was everywhere, and two tear tracks stained her cheeks. She didn't remember crying, but she must have to make a mess like this.
After scrubbing as much off as she could, she tended to her knees, which weren't bleeding but were scraped raw and burned like a bitch. Straightening up, she examined herself one last time before exiting the bathroom and returning to the table to find him waiting for her with a cup of coffee in front of him. "I'm sorry. I didn't order anything for you. I have no idea what you like," he said sheepishly.
She settled in opposite him and smiled slightly. "That's OK." A moment later, the waitress returned and she ordered a hot chocolate.
After the waitress left, they sat there for a while, not saying anything. Finally he spoke. "Well, this is awkward," he said, trying to elicit a reaction from her.
She said nothing, but moved her eyes to his and tried to read what was really going through his mind. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny and grabbed his cup, taking a big gulp of coffee. Realizing it was still hot, he choked and sputtered, causing his face to redden in embarrassment.
This amused her greatly and she smiled her biggest smile yet. He noticed this and said, "Ah, I see you enjoy watching me suffer."
Her smile faded and she shook her head. "I don't enjoy watching anyone suffer," she answered so softly that he had to lean forward to hear her.
Feeling like an idiot, he tried to clarify himself. "Hey, I was just joking, I didn't mean anything by it," he said quietly.
She nodded but didn't speak. "So, what's your name?" he asked.
She weighed her options and decided that his saving her life merited him knowing her name. "It's Cassandra, but most people call me Casey," she said before taking a sip of her hot chocolate.
"Casey, huh? I like it," he paused before continuing. "Why not Cassie, though? Isn't that more common?"
"I don't know why. I've just always been Casey," she said pinning him with her eyes. "You can call me Cassie if you want, but chances are I won't answer."
He smirked. She was starting to warm up to him and her real personality was showing through. He was intrigued. "Aren't you going to ask my name?"
"No," she said, finishing her drink and signaling the waitress. Taking the check from her, she said to him, "I've got this, OK? It doesn't make us even, what with you saving my life and all, but it'll have to do." She pulled out some cash from the pocket of her skirt and laid it on the table.
He interjected. "Hey, no, I got it. It was my idea to come here, so I should at least pay, right?"
She smiled, but shook her head. "Thanks, but no," she said glancing at the clock on the coffee shop wall. "I have to go." She turned and walked toward the door before remembering that she was still wearing his jacket. Slipping it off, she walked back over to him and reached her arm out, the jacket dangling from her finger.
He looked down at it before grabbing it and slipping it on. He was adjusting the collar when she startled him by moving forward to hug him tightly. "Thank you so much. I'll never forget you," she said in his ear softly before moving away and walking through the door.
He stood there speechless for a moment before snapping himself out of it and following her. Once outside, he looked both ways trying to catch a glimpse of her. He spied her a few hundred yards away moving swiftly down the sidewalk. "Casey! Wait up! Let me walk you home!" He called, running to catch up to her.
She didn't answer before disappearing around the corner. He sped up, mystifying himself by his need to not let her go. She was strange, sure. Talkative? No. Intriguing? Hell yes. Beautiful? Definitely.
He ran down the sidewalk and turned at the same corner she did, but stopped short when she was nowhere to be found. He leaned over and put his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Raising up again, he turned in a complete circle and scanned the area. Nothing. He took in the buildings around him, wondering if she could have gone into one of them. They all looked like apartments, and she could be in any one of them. Plus, he didn't have her last name, so he couldn't even look her up online. He swore to himself before returning to his car a few blocks away.
Casey climbed the stairs slowly, trying not to breathe in the smell of urine and pet feces. The place she was staying at was a dump, but it was better than the shelter she was in a few months ago. She arrived at the door and retrieved her key, unlocking the door and entering swiftly before relocking it behind her.
Taking in the atmosphere, she immediately scowled. Her sister hadn't done the chores that Casey asked her to do this morning. There were still dishes piled in the sink and the furniture was coated in dust. There were also crumbs on the floor from a few days ago when her sister had eaten a whole bag of potato chips while watching TV.
Casey scanned the room, but there was no sign of her sister. She could, however, hear music coming from down the hall, and started that way, intending to tear her sister a new one. Casey didn't bother to knock on the door, seeing as it was her bedroom, too. They shared the apartment with a "friend" of Casey's who she worked with at one of her three jobs. Casey really couldn't stand her, but she was making due until she could afford a place of her own for her and her sister, who was four years younger than Casey.
Upon entering the room, she was immediately hit by the smell of marijuana. Her sister was sitting on the bed with a guy smoking a joint. Casey exploded. "What the fuck is this?"
The girl let out the smoke she had been holding and laughed. "Well, hello to you too, Case," she gestured to the guy beside her. "You know Bob, right?"
Casey did know Bob, and she also knew he was a big pervert. In his late 20s (Casey guessed), he lived with his mother above them and was always making passes at Casey – in the laundry room, whenever she was at the mailbox, in the stairwell – Casey couldn't remember how many times she had said "no" to him. "Bob, yes. I know him," she directed to her sister before moving her attention to him. "Now, why don't you get the fuck out of our house? Do you know how old she is? Fourteen, asshole! I could get you arrested for this!"
Bob's eyes widened and he rose swiftly from the bed, grabbing his bag of weed. Casey watched as he moved around her and left the room without so much as a word.
Casey blew out a breath and focused on her sister. "Elizabeth Ann McDonald! What has gotten into you lately? Every time I turn around you're into something else! I can't be here to watch you every second of the day!" she said hopelessly. All she wanted to do was sink down to the floor and cry hysterically. First the attack, now this.
Elizabeth, or Lizzie, as everyone called her, got up from the bed and extinguished the roach she was holding. She then grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over the tank top she was wearing before sauntering past her older sister to the kitchen. "Casey," she threw over her shoulder, "I'm not a little kid anymore, and I don't need a babysitter," she said before opening the refrigerator and grabbing a beer.
Casey grabbed the beer out of her hand before she could open it. "Are you crazy? No beer for you, either! Jesus, I told Steph not to bring any more of this shit home. Figures she didn't listen to me," Casey grumbled angrily.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "God, could you be any more of a downer?" she said snottily before flopping on the couch.
Casey fought to keep her cool. They had been on their own for awhile now. Their mother, Nora, had died when Casey was five and Lizzie was one. After that, they lived with their father, who, upon his wife's unexpected death, slowly succumbed to drugs and alcohol. Over the years, the atmosphere in the house deteriorated until it got to the point when their Aunt Fiona had taken them in. Casey and Lizzie lived with her for a few years until, not able to control Lizzie's behavior, Fiona kicked her out. Casey said if Lizzie was going, then she was too. She couldn't have her baby sister out there all alone. And so they had been bouncing from place to place, sleeping on floors and couches between stays at the women's shelter downtown. Casey and Lizzie hated that place, though. Although they meant well, a lot of the other patrons were violent and spiteful, taking in Casey and Lizzie's clothes (which really weren't all that better than theirs) and taunting them.
After a fist fight, Lizzie had again been booted, with Casey again following. Casey was nearing the end of her rope with her little sister. Ever since she turned 11, Lizzie had changed from the sweetest and smartest tomboy you could ever know, to an sullen, angry young girl. Casey winced thinking about it. And now she was using drugs? Fuck, Casey thought, running a hand over her face. She flinched as she felt a twinge from where the trucker had hit her.
Lizzie heard a groan from her sister and squinted her eyes, focusing on Casey's face. "What the hell happened to you?"
Casey said nothing and moved past Lizzie into the kitchen, grabbing a cup and filling it with water from the tap. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
Lizzie moved closer. "That doesn't look like nothing to me. It looks like somebody hit you. Who was it? If it was Sam, I swear, I'll shoot his ass . . ."
"Liz, stop. It wasn't Sam, OK?" Casey said before moving back into the living room and sitting on the couch. She reached down and removed her heels, gingerly rubbing her feet. Sam was Casey's on-again, off-again boyfriend, although they had been off for quite a while now. She had met Sam while at work, and they had started dating immediately. Sam had a problem with alcohol. When he was sober, he was the sweetest guy ever. When he was drunk, it was a totally different story. They had a few altercations in which Casey told him to leave and never come back. Sam would be gone for a few days before crawling back with his tail between his legs, usually with flowers or something lame like that. Casey had taken him back the first few times, but after the last time, she was done. In a drunken rage, Sam had pushed Casey down, causing her to smack her head hard on the wall, giving her a slight concussion.
Lizzie plopped down next to her sister and looked her over. "Your knees are all scraped up too. God, Casey. What happened?" she asked fearfully. The tough girl act was suddenly gone, replaced with the frightened girl who desperately needed a mother. Casey tried valiantly to fill that role.
If she didn't tell Lizzie, she would bug Casey all night. Casey sighed before beginning. "I was walking home from work and was attacked from behind by this guy," seeing her sister's horrified expression, she quickly added, "He didn't do anything serious, Liz. There was this other guy . . ." her eyes became unfocused at the memory, "He saved me, Liz. He was like my knight in shining armor," she said smiling slightly.
Lizzie took this in, her eyes wide. "Wow. Do you need a doctor or something?"
Casey shook her head no. "I'm fine, Liz. All I want to do is go soak in the tub and then sleep forever." She rose and slowly headed back to the bedroom, peeling off clothes as she went.
Lizzie followed behind her. "Do you want me to start your bath for you?" she asked softly, which made Casey smile gratefully.
"That would be great, sis, thanks," Casey said, sitting on the edge of the bed and glancing over at the ashtray with the roach in it. "Liz," she said, making her sister stop and turn back.
"Yeah?"
Casey motioned with her head to the roach. "I don't want to see you doing that again, you hear me? Don't you remember what happened to Dad when he got mixed up with that shit?"
Lizzie hung her head. "Case, look. I know you probably won't believe me, but tonight was my first time smoking pot. I ran into Bob in the hallway and he invited me to try some, and I, well, I just wanted to try it," she said, not meeting Casey's eyes.
Casey nodded, then added, "Also, you know the rules. No guys allowed in the apartment unless I'm here. And I especially don't want Bob in here. The guy's a creep."
Lizzie frowned. "Case, you're never here. How am I supposed to have a social life if I can never have guys over?"
"Can't you have a social life outside the apartment? Say, at school?"
Lizzie shrugged. "Everyone there is soooo immature. I hate it."
Casey closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She felt an awful headache coming on. "Look, Lizzie, you know I only have these rules to keep you safe. Now promise me you won't let Bob into the apartment anymore. Promise me."
Lizzie looked at her a moment before answering. "OK, I promise. But you're no fun!" she said before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom to run Casey's bath.
Casey took a deep breath and laid back on her bed. What a day! she thought before getting up to soak in the tub.
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