nightrunners

epilogue

"Cassiopeia."

The girl brushed her black strands away from her face, prying her eyes from the world beneath her.

She had been so wrapped up in watching life unfold below her, couples intertwining their fingers, kids dodging cracks in the sidewalks, car horns creating a jarring melody, steam rising from the sewer beneath. Peering down from the 33rd floor made Cassiopeia realize how small it made her feel, and she wished her problems were the same way.

Her eyes met the older woman's who sat patiently in the sepia leather chair. Her thick framed glasses dipped just below the bridge of her nose, eyeing the young girl intently.

"I love what you have done with your hair."

The words feel forced as Cassiopeia ran a hand through her greasy locks.

"Thanks," One word responses had become her new normal.

"Is it permanent?"

"Yes."

"I like it," The woman's voice sounds sincere, but the words lay dormant outside Cassiopeia's hardened interior.

"Thanks," Cassiopeia repeated.

The woman adjusted herself in the chair nervously, her foot tapped lightly on the wooden floor.

"Do you know what today is?"

"Tuesday."

"Be more specific."

The girl raised her shoulders with as much strength as she could muster and dropped them back down quickly, "It's February."

The woman let out a sigh and pushed her glasses up her nose. She leaned forward in her chair and placed her hands softly into her lap.

"Cassiopeia, today would have been six months."

"Oh," The word falls from the girl's lips effortlessly. She knew of course, the tally marks etched into the side of her bedframe spoke for themselves.

"How are you feeling?" A question Cassiopeia hated the most.

"Hungry, and tired."

"Hungry is good," Her therapist smiled a little, "Your mother says you barely touch anything edible these days."

Cassiopeia shrugged, tearing her gaze from the woman and fixing it upon two blue jays fleeting amongst the bare branches of a tree. Her warm breath made the glass foggy, allowing her to reach out with the tip of her index finger and make small circles. That's how life had been for her, a never ending, hopeless cycle. 

"Have you reached out to JJ?"

Cassiopeia kept her eyes on the world below, "He's tried."

"How was that conversation?"

"Fine, I guess."

Lies. The boy had been attempting to reach out to her for months, even begging to hitch hike up to the city. He was incredibly desperate, she knew, but she could not sacrifice her own sanity to keep him sane.

"Your mother said there was a memorial service today, correct?"

Cassiopeia blankly stared out the window, "Yes."

"John was a good friend of yours?"

"John B," Cassiopeia corrected her, "He used to be."

The woman jotted down something on her notepad before taking off her thick framed glasses and setting them down on the wooden desk. She let out a long sigh that Cassiopeia didn't know she was holding in.