Perfectly Safe

By Madison Anne

In small town Tennessee, manipulation, gossip, and lies run rampant. At the very center of it all lies Cassandra and her loved ones. First, she watches her best friend's sister die of cancer, and because of the choices her best friend makes, she watches him be ostracized and gossiped about. Two years later, things are still the same: they are inseparable but their families will do anything to tear them apart.

However, when Cassandra learns the truth about her past, her families' past, and her best friend's past, things start shifting, perhaps for the worst. Her life starts falling apart at a cancer diagnosis and the revelation of buried secrets.

The lines start blurring together as Cassandra wrestles through her relationships with her family, her faith, and her own life, but one thing is certain: she will go to any length, no matter what, to protect her best friend. Including sacrificing her siblings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Jan 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387555307

Book preview

Unconditionally

Cassandra

I knew I loved him before I even knew how to ride a bike. It came more natural to me than breathing; at six years old, the two of us were inseparable, and everyone at church was watching us, grinning. We grew up, became best friends, and still, nothing changed. We’re as close as we were back when we were little kids, and I love it.

Nothing changing, except the death of his sister and how everyone in church hates him.

Something beeps beside me and grows louder as I lay here. The machine starts screaming, and before I can cry out, everything goes black. Nothing. No air. Nothing. Pain everywhere, but no air, no matter how many times I gulp in. I hear voices yelling but they never help me. I’m surrounded in blinding darkness, my world turning silent. Everything fades away to an empty, airless black. It haunts me at least once a week; the nightmare always returns when I least expect it. I used to keep myself awake for as long as possible. I used to avoid sleep. It doesn’t work. No matter what I do, it comes back, each time worse than the last.

It comes back every time I close my eyes. I can’t even hold my phone straight but I just ignore that and start dialing his number.

Come on. I know you keep your phone next to you as you sleep. You’ve done that since you were thirteen, when your parents had to take your sister to the ER in the middle of the night and left you at home. You hadn’t known they were trying to call you. Now you don’t go anywhere without it. You always lay it by your side as you sleep.

I try again. Still no answer, only silence. Silence, and the memory of my nightmare. Silence, and feeling all alone. Silence, and the malevolent darkness swallowing me. I break the silence with my shaky voice. Come on, I say to the ceiling. Please, let him answer. Just let me hear his voice say ‘hello’, that’s all I need right now.

Again, I dial his number. By the fourth ring, my finger is on the end call button, ready to click off, and my tears are about to fall again, but then I hear the line change, and my heart jumps. Finally. I knew it. He’s always there when I need him.

It’s four in the morning, his voice is groggy with a hint of irritation. And you have the wrong number.

My sister wouldn’t have picked up. She’s a deep sleeper, just like my father, and even the apocalypse couldn’t wake her up. I couldn’t wake my parents. My dad would be grumpy and my mother would be snappy. God knows she’d start yelling at me. But I could depend on him.

I laugh at him. I don’t think so, I say softly, walking to my closet and sitting inside it. I keep my voice barely above a whisper, just in case. Put on your glasses, then you’d know it’s me calling.

Cass? Immediately his voice changes and grows lighter.

Yeah, I say as I try to stifle a yawn.

What are you doing? He asks breathlessly. Cass, your mom…

I had a nightmare. I’m seventeen years old, and I’m calling my best friend in the middle of the night, just because I have a nightmare? I need to pull myself together.

Do you want to tell me about it? His voice is gentle, soft.

It’s the same one. You know, where I can’t breathe, and everything goes black…

Oh Cass, he whispers.

It was so real. What if it happens? I push my long hair back behind my shoulders, biting my nails.

He’s quiet for a long moment, and I almost think he’s fallen back asleep. Then he finally says something. It won’t.

You don’t know that.

I know, he says, his voice turning harder, I will never lose you.

How do you know?

Cass, he’s borderline snapping at me, and I can just imagine how irritated his grey eyes look—he almost never uses this tone with me, don’t talk like that. I have to bite back my smile. I can just imagine what he looks like: his hair all messy, his eyes stormy, in his don’t mess with me mode.

Both of us go quiet again, but I can still hear him as he breathes. I close my eyes, listening to the sound, imagining he is beside me, his arm wrapped around me. Safe.

Are you still there? He asks softly.

Yeah, I say. My voice is every bit as groggy as his was when he answered the phone.

I gotta go, Cass…..My dad’s up.

I wrinkle my nose. Great.

Try to go back to sleep.

What, while you get up at the crack of dawn to work?

I’m fine, Cass. Don’t worry about me.

But I do. I worry about him more than he knows.

Evelyn

There are a few things everyone needs to understand about me. Well, three things. If you spend five minutes with me, you’ll pick up on them.

1. My sister is my baby girl. No one messes with her.

2. If you’re looking for a strong opinion, I’m your girl.

3. I do not play nice. Never. I really mean never. I don’t play by the rules and I don’t play nice, especially when it comes to protecting my little sister. No one can get between me and her.

There’re also three things you should know about my sister.

1. She is crazy-protective of me. I mean crazy. If you think I’m bad, she’s a million times worse.

2. She picked up all her traits from me.

3. She is madly in love with the most shunned member of our small town community.

Meira

Without a second glance back, I left. I’d contemplated it all throughout my senior year in high school, waited until I graduated, and abandoned my family, everyone I loved. A part of me was still hopeful: maybe things would change. They didn’t. I lost hope. And I left. I would’ve stayed if I could; before the cancer, I was convinced I would never leave my brother. I refused to even think about it. He was everything to me. He was the reason I stayed alive and why I didn’t give up. He was the reason I breathed every morning. I loved that little boy more than anyone else in the world. To me, he was the sweetest thing on this earth. His little eyes would smile up at me when I cried. His laughter could make me smile when pain overtook my body.

I wanted to give up. Practically once a day I called Rebecca, my mentor, and she would talk me down. It was always the same situation: I’d either be home alone, on my bed, shaking, or locked in my bathroom while my father drank, pills in my hand. I had her number on speed dial. I still do. No matter how much she tried to talk me down, I still left. No amount of her pleading could keep me there. She tried to convince me to call the cops on my father during a bad night, but I couldn’t; it would’ve rocked our family too much. I was so afraid of being separated from my brother. In our last conversation, I made her promise to look after my mother, to check in on my family. Most importantly, I told her to protect my brother at all costs. I knew she couldn’t do much; she didn’t live in our house to see what happened, but still, knowing she would be watching him made me feel better. She’d never broken a promise to me.

I’m old now, so much older than I’d expected I would live. The cancer was supposed to do me in. My health could change in the blink of an eye. I could become even sicker, and in my heart, I know I won’t survive it the next round, with my dysautonomia worsening and my nausea consuming me. But my family won’t watch me suffer. This time, I won’t have to cry as my brother tugs at my hand, asks me to play with him, as I lay on the couch, trying to breath through the nausea and dizziness.

Telling him no was every bit as difficult as leaving.

I swore to myself I would never, ever come back. Why would I? My family planned to move to Ohio. Everyone I cared about would have either died, forgotten me, or called my parents at the first sight of me. I can’t risk that. I can’t risk seeing them again. I can’t risk facing my brother. My excuses are weak and empty. I can’t expect him to understand why I did what I did.

That night forced me to leave. To this day, I still have regret: why didn’t I stay? I could have protected the person I loved the most if I’d stayed. I could have taken him and saved him from watching our father waste away. Our mother believed in me. If I had pushed enough, maybe, just maybe, she would have left with me. She knew in her heart our house was dangerous. She knew my father was another beer or whiskey away from turning lethally violent.

We prayed. So many nights, I’d stay awake, head bowed over my Bible, searching the Psalms for a ray of hope. I read Job, able to empathize with his suffering. Rebecca kept my faith alive; without her, I would be long gone by now. Living without Rebecca now, I am completely dependent upon my faith. There really is nothing else I can hold on to. The Living Hope Rebecca showed me sustained me better than any nutrition could. I wouldn’t be here without it. I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow without it, let alone live a life of chronic illness.

At thirteen, I was sick. There wasn’t a part of me that hadn’t been touched by some form of illness.

I was the reason my father drank.

Cassandra

Though chilly outside for a summer morning, the sky is beautiful. A couple of a birds are sitting in the trees, singing out their songs. My favorite one is a chickadee; that’s Evelyn’s pet name for me. The sun slowly rises ahead of me. It’s not even bright enough for sunglasses. The creek trickles by as I pass it, still thirsty for summer rain. The spaces between the houses grow even more. Three miles. It’s really not that far. I can run it without breaking a sweat. I’ve been doing this since I was thirteen; I could do it with my eyes closed. I’ve ran this path a million times, practically every day during the summer, and not just to see Danny. I gotta see his mama, too.

Cass!

I meet him over by that big oak, the one a little ways away from their house. Out here, the grass is beautiful and fresh, and sometimes, little animals scurry around. The birds sing softer in the shade. Right here, it’s a perfect picture of Tennessee summers. A little warmer now, but not too hot like Texas. Warm, like hope, like love.

Hey! I lean against the tree, catching my breath a little bit. I always run faster when I pass their house. I can’t risk Pastor Asriel—his dad—seeing me. I don’t need a full sermon preached to me this morning. Stay away from Danny, be a good Christian girl. Hell, I haven’t ever been a good girl. Neither has my sister. I’m certainly not starting now.

He embraces me, like usual, and I close my eyes when I hug him back. Right now, the world is perfect. There’s no pain or suffering. Melanie, his little sister, is still alive.

Did they catch ya sneakin’ out? He teases, poking me in the side.

Like they could! I’m too fast for them.

He laughs with me. We settle down by the tree, watching as the sun starts rising a little bit more. I pull out my sketch pad from my tiny backpack. I don’t go anywhere without my sketch pad. Even when we’re out to dinner, I find a way to sneak it inside so I can draw. Drawing is as essential to my life as Danny is.

Get my good side, he teases, making a face.

Sit still! I laugh back. And ya know, I might just draw ya like that! After a little bit, he tries to look over my shoulder.No! I hold it to my chest to block his view. Sit still! You can see it when I’m done.

He makes faces at me on and off, and in the end, we both start laughing hard, and I end up drawing him with one of his crazy looks. He pokes at me and I swat back at him, chasing him as he teases me more and jogs away, reverting back to our childhood years, acting like we’re five, not seventeen. He knows I’m faster than him, and he runs super slow, outside of his natural lack of ability to run (he really sucks at it), so I catch up pretty quick. We end up over by one of the creeks, him tickling me and then picking me up off my feet so I can’t get away. I might be faster, but he’s always been stronger. I guess it works out, because he’s the glue holding me together, and I’m the one always pushing him forward. At least, that’s how it was when Melanie died.

Do you give up? He asks, laughing, his face red.

Always, my face is probably beet red, too, from laughing so hard. You win…

Good, he lets me lean into him, his arm around my shoulder, as we both catch our breaths. Cause ya know, if I didn’t… he pokes me again.

Ow! Stop!! I laugh batting his hand away.

His face changes and his eyes go dark. Are you okay?

You got me right where my lungs are cramping.

Oh, his eyes remain dark but his tone changes.

It’s good, I poke him back, trying to make him smile. You know it’d take more than your poking to hurt me.

Cass… he pauses, then shakes his head.

What?

I gotta get ready for work, he sighs.

He does that all the time. He’ll look like he’s about to say something, and his face is so serious, and then he changes the subject. He does it literally all the time, especially in times like these, when he think I’m hurt. He freezes and spaces out. And I know each time, he’s trying to protect me. From his dad.

Meira

I became sick at thirteen. Along with my life, my parents’ lives completely eclipsed. I slipped from an energetic, studious girl into a quiet, sick kid. No longer was I able to read for long periods of time, walk far, eat anything. I couldn’t participate in sports and never was able to attend a dance. My life was lost in hospital stays, medications, and appointments. I don’t remember when they first diagnosed me with dysautonomia. All I can remember from that year is I was in the hospital every other week. I lost twenty five pounds in a month. They removed my gallbladder and appendix. They put in a feeding tube and then a broviac. At one point, there was talk of sending me to the Mayo Clinic, but they never went through with it. Too expensive, my dad said. Too real, I thought.

Then, at seventeen, I was graced with a mask. It was most appropriate for me: since I first became sick, I hid my life from my friends and the people around me. I only let my family and Rebecca know what truly went on; everyone else was blocked out by my facade. Even Rebecca did not know the depth of my hopelessness. My parents didn’t know how close I was to breaking. The church had no idea how sick I really was or what went on in our home. I hid every bit of myself I could. If I had revealed what really was inside, I’d have hurt the people I loved the most. Especially Rebecca and my mama. They were my rocks. I’d relied on my mama since I born; she brought me strength and showered me with love. We had a completely different relationship than my mama’s friends had with their daughters. Never did I question her love for me, no matter how much she pushed me about eating or walking. She was there every time I woke from a surgery. She stayed up with me through the most horrendous of nights. She never, ever gave up on me, no matter how much weight I dropped or how poorly my appointments went. She never blamed me for being sick. She never ever hurt me, not through drinking or hitting me. She was nothing like my dad.

Rebecca, she was a jewel. Never would I have expected to be blessed with someone like her. She came into my life right after my first diagnosis, and from the moment I met her, I trusted her. As I listened to her talk, I felt something I hadn’t felt in forever: hope. Throughout those first few months, I was utterly hopeless, wanting to kill myself, wishing my surgeries hadn’t worked. My hope was replenished by a woman I’d just met, and to me, that was the greatest miracle in my life. She saved me innumerable times from doing things I’d regret. I used up so many of her nights calling or

texting her, begging her to help me. She was the utter picture of selflessness; as much as I tried, I never could be like her. There was just something special about Rebecca. Everyone loved her. I adored her. She was pure goodness; contrasting her with my own family, she truly was the purest blessing in my life. She was my bright star through my dad’s alcoholism and my sickness.

Of course, without my faith, none of that would have mattered. Faith kept my mother and Rebecca going. They turned faith into fuel for me as well. We were held together by that web, gripping tight to the promises of God, wrapped in his protection. Just as I depended on Rebecca for advice, I depended, and still do, on God. He never once walked out on me. He never turned into my father. He was my one constant through my sickness.

The cancer nearly killed me. The treatment barely worked; they had to try a mix of drugs and tried two forms of radiation. I was their guinea pig. My doctors met with us every day, and each time, they’d suggest something new. All the nurses on the floor knew me. The hospital became my home. It was safer there than my own home. My father couldn’t pull too much when we were there. Or so I thought.

He brought liquor to the hospital with him. At thirteen, I didn’t know what to do. The next time I began texting Rebecca about it. Seventeen, and I told the nurse. My father never figured out I was the one who hinted to the nurse how he had alcohol. They escorted him out. He was livid. My mama cried, not because he left, but because she knew what was coming. I should have thought, but of course, I was rash. When he eventually returned, he screamed at my mama, and security walked him out yet again. I could tell my mama was afraid to leave and take my little brother home to that. But she did it anyways. I cried through that night, afraid of what would happen. When my mama showed up the next day, unharmed, I was able to breath clear. Maybe things would get better. Maybe he would change.

He didn’t. My fragile hope shattered.

The first night I was home from that month long hospital stay, my father drank harder than I’d ever seen him drink. He started off with beer, but it quickly turned to whiskey. Five glasses of beer and three shots of whiskey. By the fifth beer, I left, the sound of the whiskey bottle opening ushering me out. I tried to keep my brother safe by playing with him in his room. Then my father yelled at me to come back in, bring my brother. Shaking, I obliged. How could I have done otherwise? He was already wasted at that point. Disobeying him would be signing a death warrant for myself.

What are you hiding from? He leered. What’s wrong with you now?

Just playing with him in his room, I answered softly.

Well, he took another drink, stop that, kid. You….you should know. You’re not stupid. Don’t act stupid.

Yes, sir, I nodded to him.

Don’t you sass me! He screeched, sitting up in his chair.

I ran. I knew it was stupid, that I would pass out with my brother in my arms, way too big for me to carry, but I had to protect him. I locked the door behind us. After setting him down, I tried to breathe through the dizziness. Black clouded my vision for at least ten minutes. I tried to do the deep breathing exercises my cardiologist taught me. The world faded faster and faster, until finally I was laying flat on the ground, breathing as hard as I could.

Open the damn door! He hollered, pounding on it, making my heart beat even harder than it was. Laying on the floor, shaking, my pulse was already near two hundred. Each second caused my vision to darken. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear my little brother crying or feel him as he tugged at my hand, screaming, Mer! Mer! Mer!

My phone was plugged in my bedroom. I couldn’t text Rebecca to ask her for help. My mama couldn’t do anything to save me. I was alone. I was the sole protector of my brother. Our mama eventually knocked at the door and took over. She never said a word about my father, only asked how I was, if I was ok. Each time I came home from the hospital my father would drink, but never like that. I’d never seen anything like that in my life, and I knew, just knew it was my fault. It was then I decided I had to escape, had to distance myself from my family. I figured if I left, things would slowly turn back to normal, and my father would ease up on drinking.

I left my brother. I’m a hypocrite for it: I counsel kids every day, help them work through their lives, but I couldn’t stay to protect and love my brother. I was too afraid to help him, but today, I can face the fiercest of mothers and the most powerful fathers. I can do it not only because of my own suffering, but because of the hope in me.

They will never extinguish the flame in me.

Cassandra

Come on, Dixie, I try to encourage her. It’s just a little farther, babe. She’s the youngest and least tamed horse my grandfather owns. That’s why I love her: she has so much spirit in her. I know you can do this. In September, we’re holding our annual Trots For Tots event. We bet on who we think will win, and regardless of who does, all the money goes towards our local pediatric hospital. It’s my favorite part about fall. For the past few years, the Asriels and Atreas have tied, but this year, I’m determined to win.

My grandfather’s words echo through my mind. That’s my girl. Train her early. She’s a mean one, but she has spirit. She’s yours. Dixie was his Christmas present to me. I’m the only one in the family who comes up to the farm and rides; my mom says it’s too dirty and the smell gives Evelyn a migraine. Sometimes, Uriah comes with me, but not today. He had camp.

You can make it. All year long, my grandfather keeps up a course we can ride around to practice. Dixie knows this path by heart. I know she can do it. A little farther, babe.

She’s galloping so fast the wind rushes past my face, tangling my hair, making the summer heat bearable. When she jumps, my heart leaps, the adrenaline causing my breathing to speed up. This is my favorite part about summer: no school, so I can practice all the time with Dixie.

Slow down there, girl! My grandfather’s voice calls out.

I gently pull on the reins, slowing her. It takes a full minute for Dixie to slow down to a trot.

My grandfather walks up to me and holds the reins. She’s a wild one, like you, he looks her up and down. She’s a beauty, too.

Yeah, she is, his voice makes me blush. Since he was fifteen, Danny’s been working at Kris’ dad’s diner and my grandfather’s farm. Obviously, he’s up at the farm today.

Which one? My grandfather calls back.

You know!

Grandpa! I blush, smiling at him. He’s old, in his late eighties, so he can get away with saying whatever he wants. He was also the old pastor, so no one would dare contradict him. He’s earned too much respect for that. Even Danny respects him, and that’s saying a lot, since my grandfather can be really theological sometimes. He’s different. He has a gentle grace that can charm anyone.

Guess who came by yesterday for dinner, Danny says as I grab a bucket and begin feeding the horses.

Hmmm, your favorite person?

He makes a face. Yeah. Mrs. Atrea and her friend Gretchen. Haley didn’t come though, thankfully.

Ah no, I stop for a minute to pet the beautiful white stallion in front of me. Her name is Amber. What’d they do?

Mrs. Atrea is the most opinionated woman I have ever met. She has no filter whatsoever. I’m not saying I’m perfect; I have a hard time holding my tongue. But she is plain rude. When Mel died, she had the nerve to walk up to Mama A and tell her to stop crying because this was all good.

I turned fifty shades of scarlet.

Let’s get this straight: yes, as a Christian, I know God has a plan for everything. I know He is sovereign. But don’t you dare blast me with the it’s all good crap. Death isn’t good. Yes, Mel is with God in heaven, but it’s still heartbreaking! Think of it logically. Is sin good? Nope. Death is the punishment for sin. Does this sound like a good thing? Does it sound good that a ten year old suffered from cancer?

Correct answer: Hell no!

I used to play the Evelyn figure in another girl’s life. I used to braid her hair, play with her, and mother her. Melanie would’ve been thirteen next month. She was ten when she died, was still full of so much love, so much hope. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t miss her. She died, no matter how much I prayed or how many sleepless night I spent arguing with God. Mel was beautiful, a mirror image of her mama, Mama A. Her hair was almost black, her eyes were a beautiful brown, and she was a tan I can never achieve, no matter how many times I sit out sunbathing. She was gentler than her mama (if that’s even possible). I never heard Melanie whine or yell. Mel always had a smile for Evelyn and me. Until the end. I knew things would become different, but my fifteen-year-old self never would have imagined this. Mama A is still quiet and dear, still treats me like a daughter, but she’s so withdrawn, even more soft spoken. Her eyes have never been as bright as they once were. When she looks at me, there’s something else in her eyes besides love, maybe

disappointment that I’m not Melanie. Her husband, he became louder, more like my mother. His sermons became longer and darker. I’ve never seen him smile since Mel’s funeral.

And then, of course, there’s Danny. Unlike his younger brother (who is really just a suck up) he decided to do the unthinkable in Paster Asriel’s eyes. Evelyn still laughs at the irony: a pastor’s son, who’s always been held to such a high standard and told to set an example for others, has totally done the opposite. He was ostracized from our small town community (especially my mother) because of what he did.

I’ve prayed about it every night. I’ve bargained with God. I’ve begged him to just take me and save Danny. I’ve begged him to hurt me so Danny could see the truth. I don’t care what happens in my life, if I never get to be a teacher and can’t run in races. None of that would matter, if he would come back to his faith. Everything would be empty and meaningless. How could I enjoy life knowing the guy I love hates the hope which keeps me breathing?

They totally blasted me. And then guess what I heard from my brother…

Did he tell you how I sassed him?

He told me in front of Dad. You gotta be careful, Cass, my dad got really pissed!

I’m so scared, I make a face at him to try and make him laugh.

For a second, his face darkens, and he says really quietly, good, you should be.

I know I should be. I’ve seen what his dad does to him.

Evelyn

I grew up at the Asriel’s; my sister has a crazy bond with Mrs. A, but I used to be really close to her, too. Enough that when things changed at their house, I noticed it before Cassandra did.

Mrs. A didn’t have bruises at first. Her eyes just went dark and she wouldn’t look anyone, not me or my sister, in the eye. Certainly not Pastor A. She flinched whenever he spoke to her. I’d never seen abuse close hand, but I figured that’s what it was. I wasn’t wrong. When I saw what Pastor A did to Danny, I knew exactly what was going on.

I tried to corner Danny, to try and talk to him about it. After Melanie was diagnosed, he’d show up at school with bruises all over his face, and since my sister was in love with him, I knew it was my duty to keep him safe. My sister couldn’t handle losing anyone else. He wouldn’t talk to me at first, but when my sister started catching on, tried confronting his dad, he told me, determined to keep Cassandra safe.

Even I’m not as protective of