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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷bill & frank's town
LOST.
CASSIE O'MEARA WAS LOST — she'd been lost for the twenty-four years she'd been alive. She'd come forth from the womb different, flailing beneath the rapids of a world she held no place in. As she grew, the burden of finding the place she belonged hadn't become easier. It'd only grown heavier, weighing down her every thought, searing her lungs with every breath. She'd made many desperate, childish, attempts to forcefully mould her place in the world, putting her whole heart into connecting — with people, causes, ideas. The closest she'd ever come to figuring out her path was with the Miller brothers, when her bloodied fingertips had just barely brushed against it, before peace had been snatched viscously from her grasp.
In the carnage left in the wake of the shattered relationship between herself and Joel, the fireflies had swooped in, posing as a guardian angel. They'd promised the broken, purposeless young girl a brighter path — a place in the world. But their guidance had only led her down a darker path, bestowing ruination upon what little she had left. They stole the remnants of her innocence, and morphed her into a monster, destined to wander the ruins of the world, alone. They isolated her, separated her from the last person she cared about, and watched with sick glee as she fell into the dark abyss of self-destruction.
The fireflies had left her with nothing but a stupid pendant, hung upon a rusted chain.
But, despite the tides of affliction pulling her under through every step of life, she'd narrowly avoided the early grave fate had so wishfully laid out for her. Instead, like two magnets destined to return to one another, Joel had stumbled back into her life. She'd been given what most others would kill for — a second chance.
And she'd be damned if she'd give that up.
After the three survivors had ransacked the basement of Bill's house for all the supplies they could, they'd decided upon taking turns to shower. Cassie had been the second to relish the warm embrace of hot water. She'd allowed herself only a few minutes, before she'd gotten out, and dressed herself in a mismatched variety of clothes they'd found within the house. But, before she'd been able to escape the confines of the luxurious bathroom, she found her eyes transfixed on the mirror. She was staring, not upon her own features — she was purposefully avoiding glimpses of herself, for fear she may not recognise the woman staring back at her.
No, she was instead focused on the firefly emblem hung around her neck. The symbol that'd once instilled pride within her, now felt more akin to a noose — squeezing the last wisps of hope from her dying body. Its place had been seared into her skin, the touch of the necklace's metal chain agonising to the touch. The emblem had become no more than a physical manifestation of all she'd done wrong, of the lives she'd taken.
