Timing is Everything
2
The ash covered floor crunches beneath me as I walk through Ashley’s room. I stand in silence and stare at the remains. Her walls are covered in char and the floor coated in ash. The smell of smoke still lingers throughout the room and I cringe at the thought of her dying in here. The floor crunches behind me as Zack follows me in.
“This isn’t her room.” I say softly. “This can’t be.”
Zack slips his hand on my shoulder but I shrug it off. Almost the whole room is gone. I glance to the charred desk where her now partially melted laptop sits. Tears well up as I remember…
“I’m going to have to be really fucking drunk to do this.” I grumble. “Why would you even want to?”
“Becaaauuuuseee we don’t have anything else to do.” Ashley laughs. “Plus, some of the penis’ look funny. Come on.”
I pour myself another shot at her bed stand and watch her spin around in the chair. I sigh and take the shot, walking towards her.
“Yay!” She squeals. “Let’s do this.”
I smile softly at the fact that I made her so happy, so easily. When you make Ashley happy, nothing else matters. She takes the laptop to Omegle and hits the video button. She scoots over on the chair so I can sit next to her. The video chat hooks us up with a stranger. Immediately, someone’s dick fills the screen. Ashley and I bust out into laughter and connect to a different call. After about 6 more calls, we come across a promising one. It was a man that looked to be about the age of 65. I go to click the end button but she stops me.
“This could be fun.” She whispers to me.
The man starts the chat.
Stranger: Hello there lovelies.
You: Hey
Stranger: What brings you to this website?
You: Bored and horny. You?
“Ashley!” I exclaim and hit her arm.
“Just watch.” She grins.
Stranger: Wow, same. We should get to know each other a little better. Let me take my shirt off.
You: Sounds good to me.
“Where are we going with this?” I ask, always the one to draw the line.
“You’ll see. Just trust me okay? And ignore what I’m about to say to him.”
Stranger: How about you take something off?
You: If you take everything off, my friend and I will make out shirtless.
Stranger: Done.
The 65 year old man takes all of his clothes off revealing his small boner, white chest hair, and chub. Ashley and I shriek and crack up.
You: You really are quite pathetic. You didn’t even ask our age. We could have been 14 and you were doing this. I’m sure you don’t care, and that’s what’s concerning. You should really take a life check and figure out what you are doing. Have a good night fapping to minors though.
We disconnect and bust out laughing. We laugh until our stomach’s ache and our eyes fill with tears.
“You are seriously the best friend I could ever ask for.” Ashley turns to me and says. “I swear, I’m so glad we live together. We complete each other.”
I grin and throw my head against your shoulder. “You’re the best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’d live such a boring life.”
She throws her head against mine and yawns. “I love you forever Cass.”
A pain rips through my chest as I remember the sound of her saying those words. My body begins to shake and quiver. I turn around and see Zack watching me closely.
“I don’t think I can do this.” I sob. “Things weren’t supposed to be this way. She and I were supposed to do so much together.”
He nods softly, clearly unsure of what to do. I sigh and walk out of the room, motioning him to follow me. We sit on the couch in the living room and he hands me Jasper.
“I just don’t feel comfortable here anymore. This house was supposed to be our house. We lived here together for 2 years. This was supposed to be our time.” I sniffle. “You don’t have to hang here by the way. I appreciate you bringing me home.”
Zack shakes his head and places a hand on my knee. “It’s okay. Look, why don’t I take you out to lunch or something? Get your mind off of things?”
“I barely know you.” I mumble. “I think it’s best if you just leave me here.”
He looks at me for a moment and nods. “Okay. Well let me at least give you my number, just in case you need me for something. In case you need a friend.”
I look up at him and he half smiles. I hand him my phone and he inputs his number. I walk him to the door and we stand there for a moment.
“Well thanks again.” I smile at him forcefully. “I appreciate the help. Thanks for saving my life and whatnot.”
“Hey, it’s my job.” He replies, shrugging his shoulders. “Let me know if you need me. Whatever, whenever. Take care Cassie.”
He leaves and I close the door behind him. I hold Jasper close as I make my way up to my bedroom. I lock the door behind me and curl up on the bed with Jass.
“Looks like it’s just you and me.” I whisper to him.
Jasper’s nose twitches in response and he begins to dig in my hoodie, creating a nest. He curls up on my stomach and I let out a long sigh. I reach to my bed stand carefully, trying not to disrupt Jasper and grab my remotes and a metal tin. I turn on my TV and cue up Skins, Ashley’s favorite TV show. I reach into the tin and ignore the “Emergencies only” warning, pulling out a blunt and lighter. I spark up and inhale deeply, trying to take this pain away.
I don’t normally smoke weed. The only times I do is when I feel very lonely or sad. Ashley sure as hell drank enough for the both of us almost every night. I was never much of an alcohol drinker though. I drank wine with dinner sometimes, but that was it. I take a long drag, Ashley deep in my thoughts. She always said the alcohol numbed the pain. I always wondered what pain she was talking about. How could someone so beautiful be in any pain? She was well loved by most people, although she didn’t care for many. I was the only one she really cared about. Boyfriends came in went in her life, none of them ever living up to her standards. Most of them just treated her like a pretty face and nothing more. Every time I picked up the pieces of her. I would come home from work and she would be curled up in my bed, watching Skins and drinking Vodka from the bottle. I remember standing in the doorway, watching as the tears streamed slowly down her face. She’d turn to me and her face would light up through her tears. Ashley would pull back the covers, inviting me in. I’d drop my purse on the desk, kick off my shoes, and curl under the covers with her, holding her closely. Within minutes, she would fall fast asleep, not saying a word to me. I was okay with that because I knew there were no words needed. She just needed me. I was always her protector, and she was mine.
Ashley and I would watch movies together all the time. Most of the time, she would pick scary ones. I never complained, but holy hell did they scare me. She knew that most of the time, and made sure to sleep in my bed with me that night. When I had a long day at work, she would make dinner and help me relax. Ashley was my other half. We were going to get matching tattoos, dye our hair together, and do so much more.
I take another deep drag and keep the blunt in my mouth. I scoop Jasper off of my stomach and lay him at the end of my bed gently, trying not to wake him. He stirs softly, but doesn’t wake. I make my way across the hallway and stand in the doorway of Ashley’s room. I place the blunt between my fingers and walk through her room slowly. Almost everything has some amount of fire or damage to it. I set the blunt down on what is left of her dresser and throw my hair into a bun quickly. I go to reach for it with shaky hands, the high setting in. I accidently drop it and it rolls under the dresser.
“Fuck.” I sigh and bend down to pick it up.
As I reach for it, something shiny catches my eye. I look a little closer and see a giant metal tin. I grab it and the blunt, making my way back to my room with both of them. I sit on my bed and stub out the blunt. I put it back where it came from and turn to Ashley’s metal tin. I had never seen it before. It was a little bit melted, but still in good enough condition for me to open it.
I open it and gasp, my eyes filling with tears.
This was a memory box.
My hands shake as I pull the contents of the container out. Pictures, notes, jewelry, and a diary. I look through the pictures and my heart tears. Most of the pictures are of us. There is one of us when we were 6, grinning like fools and holding hands in our school uniforms. Another one is of us when we were 13, going through our scene days. We had heavy make up and crazy colored extensions, camera held above us. I giggle at that one and find one of us more recently. It’s a picture of us at the zoo, feeding the giraffes. In the picture, she’s looking at me with a smile on her face. She is looking at me with so much love, it hurts. I throw the picture with the rest and pick up a necklace she had placed in there. It was half of a heart that said “Best”. I knew I had the other one that said “Friends” somewhere in my room. We gave these to each other when we were 11. I slipped it around my neck with tears still streaming down my face. I grabbed one of the notes and opened it up. I didn’t read it. I didn’t need to. I could tell exactly what it was. It was the note I had given her the night I tried to kill myself. The night I ran away. I shudder at the remembrance and set it aside with the rest.
Finally, the diary.
I pull it out and begin flipping through the pages, her handwriting filling the pages with words and my heart with sadness. She addressed every entry with “Dear Cassie,” I read the first page.
March 18, 2011
Dear Cassie,
I’m addressing this as Cassie because I always find it easier to talk to her. Or you. Or…yeah. So hey Cass. I’m not sure why you bought me this journal for my birthday. Bum gift man. I was expecting a parade. Just messing with you. But I’m not sure how often I’ll write in this. Just thought I should make an entry tonight. You are asleep next to me and of course I’m still awake, celebrating my 20th birthday. I don’t have much to say. I doubt I’ll write in this much. Well. Bye.
I flip through some more entries, most of them scarce. She would skip around, waiting weeks, even months to write. Finally, around 2012 she was writing in it every day.
February 1, 2012
Dear Cass,
I hate it when you have to take care of me. I love that you take care of me, don’t get me wrong. I just hate that you HAVE to take care of me. I’m a grown woman, so why can’t I get my shit together? I need to go to therapy, but I’m too afraid to admit that something is wrong. Maybe writing about it will help. I don’t know. Fuck it, I’m out.
I bunch my eyebrows in confusion. What could possibly be wrong? I skip ahead a few days and come across a rather large entry.
February 3, 2012
Dear Cassie,
Fuck it. I can’t take this anymore. I need to vent.
When we were younger, we had a teacher. Mr. Winters. I’m not sure if you remember him or not, but we were like 8 when we had him. There was nothing special about him. I remember one day he pulled me aside saying he needed to talk to me after school. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t question it. When a teacher needs to talk to you after class, it can never be a good thing. So I met him after class. When I walked in, he shut the door and locked it, pulling all the blinds closed and the curtain on the door’s window shut. He told me he was just locking up for the day; he did it every day. I sat at one of the desks and he stood in front of me and told me that I was a good student, but I wasn’t passing. I asked him why and he explained that I didn’t do any of the extra credit the other kids had. I told him I didn’t know there was any extra credit and I promised I would do it that night. I really didn’t want to bring bad grades home to my parents. You know how they are. One ‘C’ and you are in big trouble. So Mr. Winters smiled at me and told me he would give me the extra credit all the kids got, but never talked about. He said it was a super secret extra credit for the ones like me who are failing.
A sickening grows in my stomach and my head burns. I know where this is going.
I was 8. I didn’t know any better. When I write these words now, I feel so fucking stupid. I should have known what he meant. Special extra credit? What the fuck am I? Retarded? It was my fault after all.
“No it wasn’t.” I said aloud. “It wasn’t your fault. It was that sick bastard’s fault.”
So he pulled down his pants and put my hand on his privates. He told me what to do and I did it. I don’t need to get into graphics but you know what happened. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to do that. He told me all the others had done it. When he had finished, he pulled his pants back up and told me to come back tomorrow. I needed to complete the extra credit. Not realizing it was bad, I came back the next day and he raped me. He took my virginity long before I knew what virginity was. It happened over and over. I lost count. But I graduated from his class with an A and my parents were thrilled. I felt dirty every day, knowing I had to do extra credit to get the A. It felt like cheating. When I found out the technicalities of what he had done to me, the abuse, the rape, I felt even more dirty. I never spoke of it to anyone. I feel like such a fool for listening to him. How could I have not known what he was doing? No one else had done that to me. I trusted him. So every night, when I’m drinking my sorrows away, all I can think about is that bastard and how badly I want to tell someone. I want them to tell me that I’m not dirty. I want them to tell me that I’m beautiful. I need them to tell me that everything is going to be okay.
I feel a little better. I just wish I had the courage to verbally speak about it. Maybe one day.
Goodnight for now. Love you Cass.
I threw the diary across the room and cried. How could anyone do that to her? It wasn’t her fault. She died feeling it was her fault. She died, not having the courage to speak up. I should have pushed her to speak up. I shouldn’t have let her drink so much. I should have been there for her. I feel like such a shit head. I run out of my room and into the kitchen.
Her cereal bowl sits in the kitchen sink as if she still lived here. I went into her cabinet and stared at its contents. It was full of Poptarts, Lays, Cheetos, Macarooni, and other various junk foods. I smile softly at it and look at the bottom shelf.
Vodka.
3 bottles of Vodka sit staring at me, begging me. Ashley always said it numbed the pain, so maybe I should try it. I grab one of the bottles and head back to my room, the high still buzzing in my head. I throw the bottle on my bed and pick Jasper up.
“Hey little buddy.” I murmur and kiss him between the ears. “Time to go night night.”
I placed him in his cage gently. He hopped around a couple of times, but settled down fairly quickly. I made my way back to the bed and curled up under the covers. Skins was still playing on the TV. Ashley always loved the first generation most because one of the main characters was named Cassie. I flipped to one of her episodes and watch. I decided to make a little drinking game out of it. Whenever Cassie said “Oh wow” I would take a swig. I took a couple swigs in between and next thing I know, I’m passed out drunk, bottle in hand, just like Ashley.
“This isn’t her room.” I say softly. “This can’t be.”
Zack slips his hand on my shoulder but I shrug it off. Almost the whole room is gone. I glance to the charred desk where her now partially melted laptop sits. Tears well up as I remember…
“I’m going to have to be really fucking drunk to do this.” I grumble. “Why would you even want to?”
“Becaaauuuuseee we don’t have anything else to do.” Ashley laughs. “Plus, some of the penis’ look funny. Come on.”
I pour myself another shot at her bed stand and watch her spin around in the chair. I sigh and take the shot, walking towards her.
“Yay!” She squeals. “Let’s do this.”
I smile softly at the fact that I made her so happy, so easily. When you make Ashley happy, nothing else matters. She takes the laptop to Omegle and hits the video button. She scoots over on the chair so I can sit next to her. The video chat hooks us up with a stranger. Immediately, someone’s dick fills the screen. Ashley and I bust out into laughter and connect to a different call. After about 6 more calls, we come across a promising one. It was a man that looked to be about the age of 65. I go to click the end button but she stops me.
“This could be fun.” She whispers to me.
The man starts the chat.
Stranger: Hello there lovelies.
You: Hey
Stranger: What brings you to this website?
You: Bored and horny. You?
“Ashley!” I exclaim and hit her arm.
“Just watch.” She grins.
Stranger: Wow, same. We should get to know each other a little better. Let me take my shirt off.
You: Sounds good to me.
“Where are we going with this?” I ask, always the one to draw the line.
“You’ll see. Just trust me okay? And ignore what I’m about to say to him.”
Stranger: How about you take something off?
You: If you take everything off, my friend and I will make out shirtless.
Stranger: Done.
The 65 year old man takes all of his clothes off revealing his small boner, white chest hair, and chub. Ashley and I shriek and crack up.
You: You really are quite pathetic. You didn’t even ask our age. We could have been 14 and you were doing this. I’m sure you don’t care, and that’s what’s concerning. You should really take a life check and figure out what you are doing. Have a good night fapping to minors though.
We disconnect and bust out laughing. We laugh until our stomach’s ache and our eyes fill with tears.
“You are seriously the best friend I could ever ask for.” Ashley turns to me and says. “I swear, I’m so glad we live together. We complete each other.”
I grin and throw my head against your shoulder. “You’re the best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’d live such a boring life.”
She throws her head against mine and yawns. “I love you forever Cass.”
A pain rips through my chest as I remember the sound of her saying those words. My body begins to shake and quiver. I turn around and see Zack watching me closely.
“I don’t think I can do this.” I sob. “Things weren’t supposed to be this way. She and I were supposed to do so much together.”
He nods softly, clearly unsure of what to do. I sigh and walk out of the room, motioning him to follow me. We sit on the couch in the living room and he hands me Jasper.
“I just don’t feel comfortable here anymore. This house was supposed to be our house. We lived here together for 2 years. This was supposed to be our time.” I sniffle. “You don’t have to hang here by the way. I appreciate you bringing me home.”
Zack shakes his head and places a hand on my knee. “It’s okay. Look, why don’t I take you out to lunch or something? Get your mind off of things?”
“I barely know you.” I mumble. “I think it’s best if you just leave me here.”
He looks at me for a moment and nods. “Okay. Well let me at least give you my number, just in case you need me for something. In case you need a friend.”
I look up at him and he half smiles. I hand him my phone and he inputs his number. I walk him to the door and we stand there for a moment.
“Well thanks again.” I smile at him forcefully. “I appreciate the help. Thanks for saving my life and whatnot.”
“Hey, it’s my job.” He replies, shrugging his shoulders. “Let me know if you need me. Whatever, whenever. Take care Cassie.”
He leaves and I close the door behind him. I hold Jasper close as I make my way up to my bedroom. I lock the door behind me and curl up on the bed with Jass.
“Looks like it’s just you and me.” I whisper to him.
Jasper’s nose twitches in response and he begins to dig in my hoodie, creating a nest. He curls up on my stomach and I let out a long sigh. I reach to my bed stand carefully, trying not to disrupt Jasper and grab my remotes and a metal tin. I turn on my TV and cue up Skins, Ashley’s favorite TV show. I reach into the tin and ignore the “Emergencies only” warning, pulling out a blunt and lighter. I spark up and inhale deeply, trying to take this pain away.
I don’t normally smoke weed. The only times I do is when I feel very lonely or sad. Ashley sure as hell drank enough for the both of us almost every night. I was never much of an alcohol drinker though. I drank wine with dinner sometimes, but that was it. I take a long drag, Ashley deep in my thoughts. She always said the alcohol numbed the pain. I always wondered what pain she was talking about. How could someone so beautiful be in any pain? She was well loved by most people, although she didn’t care for many. I was the only one she really cared about. Boyfriends came in went in her life, none of them ever living up to her standards. Most of them just treated her like a pretty face and nothing more. Every time I picked up the pieces of her. I would come home from work and she would be curled up in my bed, watching Skins and drinking Vodka from the bottle. I remember standing in the doorway, watching as the tears streamed slowly down her face. She’d turn to me and her face would light up through her tears. Ashley would pull back the covers, inviting me in. I’d drop my purse on the desk, kick off my shoes, and curl under the covers with her, holding her closely. Within minutes, she would fall fast asleep, not saying a word to me. I was okay with that because I knew there were no words needed. She just needed me. I was always her protector, and she was mine.
Ashley and I would watch movies together all the time. Most of the time, she would pick scary ones. I never complained, but holy hell did they scare me. She knew that most of the time, and made sure to sleep in my bed with me that night. When I had a long day at work, she would make dinner and help me relax. Ashley was my other half. We were going to get matching tattoos, dye our hair together, and do so much more.
I take another deep drag and keep the blunt in my mouth. I scoop Jasper off of my stomach and lay him at the end of my bed gently, trying not to wake him. He stirs softly, but doesn’t wake. I make my way across the hallway and stand in the doorway of Ashley’s room. I place the blunt between my fingers and walk through her room slowly. Almost everything has some amount of fire or damage to it. I set the blunt down on what is left of her dresser and throw my hair into a bun quickly. I go to reach for it with shaky hands, the high setting in. I accidently drop it and it rolls under the dresser.
“Fuck.” I sigh and bend down to pick it up.
As I reach for it, something shiny catches my eye. I look a little closer and see a giant metal tin. I grab it and the blunt, making my way back to my room with both of them. I sit on my bed and stub out the blunt. I put it back where it came from and turn to Ashley’s metal tin. I had never seen it before. It was a little bit melted, but still in good enough condition for me to open it.
I open it and gasp, my eyes filling with tears.
This was a memory box.
My hands shake as I pull the contents of the container out. Pictures, notes, jewelry, and a diary. I look through the pictures and my heart tears. Most of the pictures are of us. There is one of us when we were 6, grinning like fools and holding hands in our school uniforms. Another one is of us when we were 13, going through our scene days. We had heavy make up and crazy colored extensions, camera held above us. I giggle at that one and find one of us more recently. It’s a picture of us at the zoo, feeding the giraffes. In the picture, she’s looking at me with a smile on her face. She is looking at me with so much love, it hurts. I throw the picture with the rest and pick up a necklace she had placed in there. It was half of a heart that said “Best”. I knew I had the other one that said “Friends” somewhere in my room. We gave these to each other when we were 11. I slipped it around my neck with tears still streaming down my face. I grabbed one of the notes and opened it up. I didn’t read it. I didn’t need to. I could tell exactly what it was. It was the note I had given her the night I tried to kill myself. The night I ran away. I shudder at the remembrance and set it aside with the rest.
Finally, the diary.
I pull it out and begin flipping through the pages, her handwriting filling the pages with words and my heart with sadness. She addressed every entry with “Dear Cassie,” I read the first page.
March 18, 2011
Dear Cassie,
I’m addressing this as Cassie because I always find it easier to talk to her. Or you. Or…yeah. So hey Cass. I’m not sure why you bought me this journal for my birthday. Bum gift man. I was expecting a parade. Just messing with you. But I’m not sure how often I’ll write in this. Just thought I should make an entry tonight. You are asleep next to me and of course I’m still awake, celebrating my 20th birthday. I don’t have much to say. I doubt I’ll write in this much. Well. Bye.
I flip through some more entries, most of them scarce. She would skip around, waiting weeks, even months to write. Finally, around 2012 she was writing in it every day.
February 1, 2012
Dear Cass,
I hate it when you have to take care of me. I love that you take care of me, don’t get me wrong. I just hate that you HAVE to take care of me. I’m a grown woman, so why can’t I get my shit together? I need to go to therapy, but I’m too afraid to admit that something is wrong. Maybe writing about it will help. I don’t know. Fuck it, I’m out.
I bunch my eyebrows in confusion. What could possibly be wrong? I skip ahead a few days and come across a rather large entry.
February 3, 2012
Dear Cassie,
Fuck it. I can’t take this anymore. I need to vent.
When we were younger, we had a teacher. Mr. Winters. I’m not sure if you remember him or not, but we were like 8 when we had him. There was nothing special about him. I remember one day he pulled me aside saying he needed to talk to me after school. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t question it. When a teacher needs to talk to you after class, it can never be a good thing. So I met him after class. When I walked in, he shut the door and locked it, pulling all the blinds closed and the curtain on the door’s window shut. He told me he was just locking up for the day; he did it every day. I sat at one of the desks and he stood in front of me and told me that I was a good student, but I wasn’t passing. I asked him why and he explained that I didn’t do any of the extra credit the other kids had. I told him I didn’t know there was any extra credit and I promised I would do it that night. I really didn’t want to bring bad grades home to my parents. You know how they are. One ‘C’ and you are in big trouble. So Mr. Winters smiled at me and told me he would give me the extra credit all the kids got, but never talked about. He said it was a super secret extra credit for the ones like me who are failing.
A sickening grows in my stomach and my head burns. I know where this is going.
I was 8. I didn’t know any better. When I write these words now, I feel so fucking stupid. I should have known what he meant. Special extra credit? What the fuck am I? Retarded? It was my fault after all.
“No it wasn’t.” I said aloud. “It wasn’t your fault. It was that sick bastard’s fault.”
So he pulled down his pants and put my hand on his privates. He told me what to do and I did it. I don’t need to get into graphics but you know what happened. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to do that. He told me all the others had done it. When he had finished, he pulled his pants back up and told me to come back tomorrow. I needed to complete the extra credit. Not realizing it was bad, I came back the next day and he raped me. He took my virginity long before I knew what virginity was. It happened over and over. I lost count. But I graduated from his class with an A and my parents were thrilled. I felt dirty every day, knowing I had to do extra credit to get the A. It felt like cheating. When I found out the technicalities of what he had done to me, the abuse, the rape, I felt even more dirty. I never spoke of it to anyone. I feel like such a fool for listening to him. How could I have not known what he was doing? No one else had done that to me. I trusted him. So every night, when I’m drinking my sorrows away, all I can think about is that bastard and how badly I want to tell someone. I want them to tell me that I’m not dirty. I want them to tell me that I’m beautiful. I need them to tell me that everything is going to be okay.
I feel a little better. I just wish I had the courage to verbally speak about it. Maybe one day.
Goodnight for now. Love you Cass.
I threw the diary across the room and cried. How could anyone do that to her? It wasn’t her fault. She died feeling it was her fault. She died, not having the courage to speak up. I should have pushed her to speak up. I shouldn’t have let her drink so much. I should have been there for her. I feel like such a shit head. I run out of my room and into the kitchen.
Her cereal bowl sits in the kitchen sink as if she still lived here. I went into her cabinet and stared at its contents. It was full of Poptarts, Lays, Cheetos, Macarooni, and other various junk foods. I smile softly at it and look at the bottom shelf.
Vodka.
3 bottles of Vodka sit staring at me, begging me. Ashley always said it numbed the pain, so maybe I should try it. I grab one of the bottles and head back to my room, the high still buzzing in my head. I throw the bottle on my bed and pick Jasper up.
“Hey little buddy.” I murmur and kiss him between the ears. “Time to go night night.”
I placed him in his cage gently. He hopped around a couple of times, but settled down fairly quickly. I made my way back to the bed and curled up under the covers. Skins was still playing on the TV. Ashley always loved the first generation most because one of the main characters was named Cassie. I flipped to one of her episodes and watch. I decided to make a little drinking game out of it. Whenever Cassie said “Oh wow” I would take a swig. I took a couple swigs in between and next thing I know, I’m passed out drunk, bottle in hand, just like Ashley.
Notes
Enjoy the sadness people :pSorry if it's a bummer. Zack will come into play more. I just wanted to give a little background on Ashley and Cassie's relationship.
Lemme know what you think c:
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12/7/13