Tangled IN YOU (Book#1, IN YOU), page 1
Book#1, in you
Tangled IN YOU
Copyright © 2018 by Cassandra Night. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Disclaimer: This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. It involves strong language and sexual situations.
Editor: Jenn Wood from All About The Edits
Formatter: Rachael Tonks @ Affordable Formatting
Cover Design: Danielle Dickson from Vixen Designs
To my husband and my amazing boys who inspire me to write and dream every day. I am grateful that you supported my dream and allowed me to grow. Thank you for doing everything for me while I am inside my head. I love you fiercely.
And to my Grandma, a woman who introduced me to the magic of storytelling. Thank you for teaching me to dream and hope.
Contents
I. Intertwined Paths
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
II. Tangled Hearts
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Part I
Intertwined Paths
Chapter 1
Messengers
~Sandra~
I feel a twinge of guilt as I kiss little Ethan goodbye. “Have a nice day, munchkin, listen to your dad.”
He embraces me, meshing his body tightly around me as I hold his small form, and then raises his arms for Daddy to pick him up. My heart sinks in my chest at Nate’s disheartened expression. “I’m not going, love. Have fun with your dad, all right?” I wink at him, trying to lighten up his mood, then kiss his cheek and squeeze his shoulders.
He nods his head, smiling sadly, then hops down the steps to the car without a single word. Sam straps Ethan in and gives me a kiss, but Nate ignores me, sulking in the back seat. I watch them as they drive away, and wave before heading back into the house.
Late in the evening, the bell buzzes, demanding my immediate attention, and I get a terrible feeling; a sense of foreboding churns in my guts. The ringing bell is a warning. Growing dread stirs my heart into skipping a beat and my stomach coils into a tight fist, but I refuse to acknowledge any of it. At least this way, I can pretend and hope.
Unwillingly, I walk towards the door, trying to shake the fear rapidly encasing my senses. My heart squeezes in warning, as if attempting to prevent unlocking the gates to the agony.
Before I reach the door, I stop for a minute to compose myself, as the bell sounds a second time. My legs start to shake and my anxious heart races in my throat. The air, saturated with sharp dread, presses on my shoulders. Warning tingles in my limbs, making them feel heavy. An erratic pulse thrums loudly in my ears, and I start to sway on my wobbly feet. Black spots begin to appear before my eyes.
Then I open the door. I know I shouldn’t, but somehow, I do. With a numb smile plastered on my face, I welcome the dark messengers.
I can’t hear their voices, the mind that floats with cold detachment refusing to understand. Cocooned from the truth, I am shrouded in the welcoming silence. Nothing can touch or break me. It makes me feel content to stay in here, and I don’t fight it.
“Sandra, can you hear me? Where have you been? Are you ok?”
From afar, I can hear them calling me, but I am unable to form any sort of reply. As they stand before me, trembling, they grip my hands, demanding for me to hear them out. My paper white-colored face is frozen in limbo, incapable of grasping what is happening. I watch people rushing towards my home, shouting, crying.
The message was grave.
Soul-shattering. Unraveling. Unmaking.
My eyes fill and overflow, pouring hot substance down my cheeks. Rivulets of the hot tears meet at my chin.
Burning. Freezing. Undoing.
The vision of my little boy, like a message from the other world, comes to me.
“Let’s go, Mummy…” The phantom voice of my child distracts me from the reality happening in front of my eyes. A small hand envelops mine. I look down, and Ethan is smiling at me, a peaceful reflection in his eyes.
“It is ok, Mummy. He won’t cry for long. I am waiting for him, you know? You should go home and rest.” Astounded by his calm and heartwarming smile, I know that he is right.
The vision fades and the overwhelming need to block the rushing world crashes into me. Willingly, I surrender to the nurturing darkness, afraid to accept the truth. This way, I can still pretend my family will come back home, that this is just a nightmare.
“They died in the car accident…” the policeman’s sympathetic voice tells me. I feel like screaming on the inside, thrashing, my soul bleeding, as I refuse to accept the reality. It doesn’t seem real to me.
But when it finally did, my family was horrified by the darkness, and my inability to cope with grief.
“We think you need professional help, Sandra. The hospital might give you a break from grief…” That was what my mother’s determined voice said before my family broke my trust.
I should never have let them see it—my pain and my shattered soul. I had no time to hide. They subdued me and took away my freedom, locking me away in the mental hospital.
The fear remade me, agony imprisoned me. After that, I hid my pain from everyone. Darkness became my shelter. She became me.
But then I hear them. My children, calling me back. I will reunite us, Cassandra better let me.
“Nate! Ethan! Where are you?” I hear their giggles, and then screams mixing in unison. Their fear is shattering my heart. I can’t reach them, she is fighting me. I will have to force the memories into her heart.
“Mummy please, I am scared!”
Nate’s screams echo, calling me to save them, and I whimper. I abandoned them, but no more. We are coming back to reclaim our rightful place—the heart, where we should be.
Soon I’ll be free, and we will reunite. The terror, shame, and guilt will remake or break us. Everyone will see who we are. I belong to her, she belongs to me. We both are the same. I refuse to stay in the darkness. I will claim back my life, even if it kills us both in the process. I have nothing to lose, but she does.
You can taste my rage, Cassandra.
I can feel your fear. It’s choking you. You can be free, just give in.
Never! Enough!
Chapter 2
Agony
~Sandra/Cassandra~
After the hospital, 2 years ago
My little one, who is just over two years old, darts into the room, jumping on the bed with excited giggles.
“Mummy, Mummy, go to the park! Let’s go, Mummy!” he excitedly demands while shaking my shoulders, and then turning my face with his still chubby hands.
“Go, ask your daddy to go. Let Mummy be lazy today,” I instruct Ethan, kissing his cheery cheeks. Blowing a raspberry on his exposed neck, he screeches and then laughs with cheeky delight.
All of a sudden, my breathing becomes hasty with palpable fear. It slips through my fingers like sand. NO! I begin to panic and hyperventilate. Their faces blur, slowly fading from my memories. I can’t hold on to their features any longer. I try to hold on to every heartbeat necessary for my survival. If I fail, she’ll win. Holding my breath, I’m desperate to stop my heart racing away from my beloved babies. Sobs pour out of my frame, as gasping wails shred my throat and tear me apart.
“Mummy, look at me, I am so high! I am flying in the sky!” my little one screams from the top of the slide.
I feel the sunlight kissing my face as I listen to their content chatter and ecstatic laughs. I watch the trees sway in rhythm created by the autumn wind.
“Are you ok, Mum?” A concerned Nate gives me a kiss and runs to join his brother before I can answer.
My heart aches, trying to catch the memory. Like the worst nightmare, it has no real substance to grab on to. Desperate whimpers fall on deaf ears, as they float away and out of my reach. I start shaking, feeling disorientated. Rapid, irregular heartbeats, like the drums of a rock band, begin to beat in a sickening rhythm. My mouth goes dry; I am desperate for air. Pain takes hold of my heart, with punishing fingers like claws opening me wide, letting the agony rip me apart.
Nate’s features resurface. An adorable, skinny, dark-haired boy, his dark blue eyes point a little bit downwards, giving him a sad expression, and I am tempted to kiss it away. Pouty lips and a pessimistic personality were tough to bend. The original, slightly shy character had very on point humor and incredible heart. My
firstborn, who screamed his way into this world, has remade me.
“Mummy, do you know why babies are born without teeth?”
“Why, love?” I yearn to hold him and soothe his pain.
“Because they can’t brush them.” He giggles as I kiss his head.
When the memory fractures and begins to slip away, he looks at me with those dark blue eyes, full of agony and disappointment. Nate wails for me to come. My boy is in pain and scared. Shaking, I whimper, desperately trying to get away from the clutches of this memory.
Like a fraught mouse, I try to escape the trap, shut the gate, but I struggle. The thought of me being alone and helpless squeezes my heart in painful spasms until I am sweating, dizzy with sickening dread. Too scared, I gasp for air. I’m drowning. I collapse on the floor, numb. Helpless to control my moves, the memory seizes me again.
This time, my little munchkin with golden brown hair appears in front of me, making faces, peppering me with kisses. Ethan’s observing dark brown eyes melt my heart with his cute antics. God, he was just two when he died. Why?
“Mummy, don’t cry, let me kiss it better.” His words resonate through me, and his warm kisses threaten to unravel me.
Ethan’s sweet scent pierces my senses and my frightened heart races, as if to escape the agony. Helpless against it, I whimper. Something stirs in my chest, urging me to fight the terror.
Cassandra. Stubbornly, she pushes the memories away, bulldozes this unwelcoming feeling. I retreat, battered, defeated, and left yearning to be reunited with the family. She takes charge by force.
I hate being helpless and weak. Another whimper escapes my mouth, and the echoes of Sandra’s past vibrate through me. My heart squeezes in my chest; I know I can’t survive those memories. So, I push away their voices that could drown me in pain.
Slowly and deeply, I inhale through my nose and then exhale through my mouth, regaining the balance. I despise being out of control. Not today. I won’t let Sandra take us under. To regain my bearings, I conjure an image of me sitting in the sea of a golden wheat field. The long grass whooshes to the rhythm of the blowing winds, stroking my legs and brushing against the reaching fingers.
Sandra’s memories no longer threaten my authority. I am back. She is not real. She is only a fragment of my past. She abandoned the ship. I am the one who gets to live. Finally, I open my eyes.
The rainforest setting gently pounds my shaking form in my walk-in shower. I lay my tired head on the tiled, cold, slick ground, dragging my feet underneath me until I’m tucked in a ball. Listening to the falling water, I wrap my arms around my legs and wait until my stiff muscles relax.
Later, lying in my bed, I let myself to return to the tranquil wheat field, lulling me into quick mindless sleep, trying to ignore my destroyed life, waiting out the inner storm to pass.
I won today. But she is getting stronger.
I might fail next time.
Chapter 3
second chance omen
~Cassandra~
Today
Why me?
I cringe as I look down and see melted gum left on the pavement hanging from my shiny new stiletto. I try to scrape it off in the grass as my youngest sister, Aisha, chats on the other end of the phone, her mouth going a mile a minute. Frustrated with people’s lack of regard for others, I tune her out.
Once I drag my high heel and get rid of the sticky paste, I feel at ease again and bring my attention back to my conversation.
“Have you packed sexy underwear? Those can be handy, especially in the city of magic…perhaps you’ll meet someone who charms your panties off.” Aisha chatters away in my ear as I maneuver my way around the people rushing to work.
The thrill’s bubbling beneath my skin as I walk towards the Victoria train station, where I’ll head to the Gatwick airport. My heart starts beating rapidly, and the hairs rise on my arm in the awareness of something unexplainably electric about to happen.
“My underwear is lace, and it’s glued to my body. I don’t plan to show it to anyone. Besides, I am going for work.” This is what it means to be the oldest girl in the family. You have to be uptight to set an example. Otherwise, I’ll have to clobber men showing up at her door. Perhaps I should tell my younger sister Raine to deal with them. She’s twenty-five, just a few years younger than me, and very protective.
“Oh, come on. You need to live a little bit.”
“I am…” I whisper, but the sound is swamped by the announcements spewed from the speakers.
Thank God the Victoria train station is well-marked and easy to get around. Otherwise, I would get lost. As I look around, I see loads of options of how to spend my time while waiting for the next train, but I am not interested in browsing today. My heels click on the path as I walk through all commercial distractions driven by purpose to get on the train as fast as possible.
“Are you still listening, Cassandra?” Aisha is getting annoyed, but I have to find the kiosks, and it’s hard to see when you’re only five-foot-three.
Oh, where is it? I need to hurry since I purchased tickets online ahead of time. It saved me those precious extra minutes, which I’ll lose if I can’t find the damn kiosk.
It might be embarrassing to admit, but I watched videos on YouTube to get a sense of the layout ahead of time. Funny, right, but I am horrible with sense of direction, and this is the first time I’m using Victoria station to travel. My eyes take in the full view of the gigantic structure, my heart beating excitedly in my chest, and I pick up my pace.
“I am listening, but the station is so busy. A few elephants almost trampled my feet to death. So, I’m busy trying to act like I don’t want to scream and cry like a baby.”
After I get the ticket, I have enough time to buy snacks and water for later, then head to find my seat. I don’t want to admit it, but I’m nervous about today’s meeting.
“Are you on your period? Have you not heard anything I said? I gave you some tips for a night out.”
My heart is in limbo, and my body is numb, but my sisters still hope that one day I’ll just wake up and everything will be ok.
The past version of me is gone. In Sandra’s place is a different woman, one who has been glued together piece by piece, shard by shard, with bleeding hands and my bowdlerized heart reshaped into this new being. Echoes of the past sewed in the core of this newfangled existence. In my ice-blue eyes now resides sadness, and rarely do they reflect joy. But my sisters try anyway, and I don’t have the guts to crush their hopes.
“Listen, I’m on the train. I’m going to try to get some shuteye. Take care, Aisha. Love you, bye!” I disconnect the call before she can respond, and try to set me up with someone.
A shaky smile touches my lips and I raise my head, breathing in this ambiance washing over me as the train starts to move. Every atom of my being has this impression of inevitable change but, for some reason, I’m not frightened by it. I welcome this uplifting energy into my sad life, even if just for a moment.
“Ahem.” The woman sitting opposite clears her throat and I look at her.
Probably around sixty-five or so, the lady is dressed very eccentrically for her age. Her shiny grey hair rests in elegant waves over her shoulder and her sharp eyes are narrowed at me in annoyance. She’s wearing riding boots with aquamarine tights, and a darker shade check-marked sweater that seems too warm for this weather we’re having today. A colorful necklace hanging from her old neck draws my curious attention.
