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kay_brooke ([personal profile] kay_brooke) wrote in [community profile] rainbowfic2017-08-04 01:02 am

Argent #24, Silver Screen #1

Name: [personal profile] kay_brooke
Story: Unusual Florida
Colors: Argent #24 (inner peace), Rain Cloud #19 (tripped), Silver Screen #1 (Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.)
Styles/Supplies: Graffiti (Short Films: https://imgbox.com/FduE3PLc)
Word Count: 667
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: A quiet night with Cassie and Amy.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.

Cassie pulled her hair tie out, letting the pale strands cascade over her shoulders. She ran her hands through it and said, “I’m going to cut my hair.”

“Okay,” said Amy. She was curled up on the couch, book with a lurid green cover in one hand and the other crooked around Jenna’s shoulder. The little girl was fast asleep, snuggled up against her mom’s side, and for just a second Cassie envied her. Then she got over it.

“I mean it,” she continued. “And I don’t just mean short. I’m going to cut it all off. I’m going to shave it off.”

“The cancer patient look is in, I hear,” Amy murmured.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Relaxed Amy unnerved her. Highstrung Amy, getting ready for work, or striding through the doorway afterward, or running Jenna from one activity to another: that was the Amy Cassie knew. But quiet weekend Amy, with book and loving daughter sighing peacefully against her side, was obscene. It was offensive. The tension had bled away from Amy’s shoulders, making her look at least ten years younger and more beautiful than Cassie had ever seen her.

Cassie was supposed to be the pretty one. She always had been. She had never cared before, laughing away the compliments she received.

She cared now.

“Maybe I’ll dye it,” she said, when Amy refused to engage with her earlier snipe. “Neon green.”

“Mm-hm,” said Amy.

Cassie crossed her arms. “I hate my hair,” she announced.

“Then do something with it,” said Amy, and right there, that was a little bit of tension flowing back into her shoulders. Cassie found she could breathe easier. “If you’re just going to sit there and complain, I’d rather you do it somewhere else. It’s been months since I’ve had time to sit down with a book.” Jenna stirred at her side, mumbling something in her sleep, and Amy glared at Cassie as if she had just been the one talking out loud.

“Are you sending me to bed?” Cassie said. “I don’t even get to stay up as late as the six-year-old?”

Amy ignored her.

Cassie slumped over in the chair and sighed heavily. She shuffled her socked feet against the carpet. There was nothing metal around her to touch.

“I thought you were going to bed,” said Amy.

“I am.” But she still didn’t move. She didn’t want to go to bed. They had started happening again, the nightmares. The black box in her head calling out to the terrible things that pursued her. She was pretty sure they tracked her through her dreams. She was pretty sure that when they found her she’d go right back to that terrible night, all her life wisping away like steam from wet streets on a hot summer day, leaving her scorched, parched, burned, unable even to cry as she lost everything.

Maybe Amy wouldn’t be so tense all the time, if it had been Cassie who’d gone missing, all those years ago.

But ultimately Cassie was a coward, and she couldn’t let the things get her. She couldn’t dream. She couldn’t sleep. Here, even with her picking and picking and picking at Amy, a bad habit she just couldn’t quit, the dream things were far away. When Amy was in the room, they stayed away, as if the force of her practicality and her exasperation with the nonsensical was itself enough to defeat it.

But it was weird to ask if she could sleep in her sister’s room. This wasn’t their aunt’s house in Maine; Amy’s house was no mansion, but it was large, with plenty of rooms for all.

“Can I sleep here in the chair?” she asked instead.

Amy glanced up at her for the first time, a tiny crease forming between her brows, a look Cassie knew all too well, and she braced herself for it.

But the crease smoothed, and Amy said, “If you want,” and went back to her book.

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