𝟏.𝟏: Lingering Scars
𝐅or as long as she could remember, Cassie Arlette had always been the odd one out—a loner.
Years of having no one to relate to or confide in had made her accustomed to the feeling of isolation.
Oh, but it's not that she never tried being friendly, smiling brightly, or sharing her snacks and toys with her peers to gain their attention and favor.
All the effort she poured into making friends always ended in futility because no one wanted to be seen around the creepy girl with ghastly scars littering her skin.
"You're an eyesore. Why would I want to be friends with an ugly weirdo like you?" The new girl spat, smacking Cassie's offered hand away.
Cassie had simply nodded with a weak smile, having anticipated that reaction. But it didn't stop her chest from squeezing painfully.
"Yes, I understand. . . Sorry I asked."
Again.
"It's okay, it's my fault looking so scary. . ."
And again.
"I'm sorry my scars scared you. . ."
And again.
"Sorry, I'll leave you alone."
Again, and again, and again. Like clockwork, the dreaded cycle of rejection haunted Cassie and ate away at her resilience, until all that was left of her was a bleeding heart with too many open wounds that never healed.
But it was fine. Those bleeding wounds were the reason she could look into a mirror and not break down in hysterics.
She was grateful for them because they kept her sane; they distracted her from the repulsive reflection that stared back at her every time she locked gazes with those tear-stained eyes.
To her, the rips in her heart made better company than the ones smeared along the skin of her arms, chest, back, and thighs.
No matter how skillfully she covered those up, they always stung, reminding her of the inhumane ways she got them.
....
STERLINGTON APARTMENTS, SUITE 12B
— Bathroom
From her place in front of the mirror, Cassie let out a shaky sigh, brushing aside the typical gloomy thoughts while she fiddled with the remaining undone buttons on her shirt.
As usual, she gave the thin scar that ran from beneath her left collarbone to her sternum a piteous glance.
The epidermal layer above the scar was still wrinkled and discolored. She always thought it looked out of place on her clear, porcelain skin—like a nasty stain on a milky white fabric.
"How repulsive. What person would want to be seen with a freak like you? You deserve this now, stay still."
Cassie's fingers began to tremble as the burning memory of her blood-curdling screams and sobs from that day flooded into her mind without warning, spiking her pulse.
She rapidly shook her head, her knuckles gripping tightly onto the bathroom sink for support.
She didn't want to go down the rabbit hole again. At least, not now. Today was an important day for her career. It would be downright pathetic if she lost it here and ruined everything.
No, she wouldn't do that.
She took a deep breath before fixing the last button on her shirt, hiding the scar from her sight—much to her relief.
Smoothly, she took down her waist-length chestnut hair from its messy bun and ran a brush through the curly locks a few times until they glowed and bristled.
A few minutes later, she was out of the bathroom and slipping on her work shoes.
She was in the middle of shrugging on her blazer jacket when a call came in through the home stereo system, startling her for a second.
Her cheeks faintly warmed with embarrassment as she cleared her throat.
"Cassie, you have an incoming call from your personal manager, Ms. Winfred O'Bryant. Would you like to accept it?" The silence in the apartment was momentarily broken by the artificial voice's feedback.
"Put her through," Cassie shortly replied, now standing in front of her full-length mirror, patting down her outfit.
She heard the familiar beep go off before her senses were invaded by Winfred's voice.
"Miss Arlette." The woman's rich, silky voice passed a short greeting.
A woman of few words, as always, the brunette thought. "Good morning, Winfred. I'm guessing you've called to tell me you're out front?"
"You're never wrong, Miss," came her simple rejoinder, and Cassie could tell that she was humoring her.
After all, it was classic for the personal manager to call at exactly 8 AM every morning to inform her employer of her arrival.
Cassie's smile grew as she picked up her work bag from her desk and made her way toward the door.
"Accept my thanks for the ego boost, Miss O'Bryant. Luckily, I was just leaving the apartment. I'll see you in five."
The other end of the line was silent for a pause until Winfred's suave voice finally resurfaced. "Always a pleasure, Miss Arlette. I'll be waiting."
The call disconnected.