Cassie crept through the door, imaging a feather in her mind as her toes hit the floor.
It didn’t work as well as she would have liked, soft clacking noises from her shoes followed her feet through the kitchen
She reached past the toilet and turned on the bathwater, she had to get it out of her hair.
She felt upset, she would never be able to wear it again.
It was soothing, and she let it run over her, leaving her thoughts behind. All she concentrated on was the water its smooth fingers running through her, begging her to let go.
After she was sure that she was clean, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel from the shelf above the toilet around her head to dry her hair.
She shut off the light, sick of the mirror's emotionless eyes staring at her.
The voice came from behind her, out of the darkened door frame behind her.
He opened the door to the bathroom and turned on the light.
“Oh no, I’m proud of you.” He said,
“No. And now Oliver owns me twenty dollars.”
She turned away from him when he approached. Entering her room and throwing the dress on to the top of her trash bin.
Why wouldn’t he just leave?
She had wanted to be apart of this group.
It was like watching an addict suffering through withdrawal. Only he new when his next fix was coming. It was the waiting the killed him.
A vision of Lysov still doing this at the age of fifty, not that he was even likely to reach such an age.
Drinking, smoking, and the occasional death situation were not exactly life prolonging activities.
He left the room, turning to close her door and flashing an excited smile at her before closing the door.
Now it wasn’t just the fear of not caring, she was afraid of turning into Lysov. Of becoming eager. Of not caring how many dresses were ruined on the way, as long as you could gain control over someone else’s life, if only for a moment. Because none of them had any control over their own.