(no subject)
Cassie… dead. The two words just won’t go together in her head. It’s only been a week since they were sitting in her mom's apartment making dinner together and laughing as if the whole world wasn’t about to be ripped apart. Cissie likes to think of herself as strong: the lessons she’s learned, the value she places on perseverance have built her into who she is. Now, though, she just can’t stop sobbing. You can’t fight death with pure will, she thinks. Except you can. People had. Lots of people had come back, and Cassie hadn’t. It is that fact, the cold stark reality of it that she can’t seem to run away from or push her way through.
She’d had so many plans. She can’t imagine doing any of it now, except one thing. There are so many holes, more than just the one left by Cassie, and she doesn’t know how to fill them. So she is here. She has wandered, tears intermittently falling down her cheeks, through airport terminals, bus stations, and taxi queues, and now she is here. She is standing outside a pair of wrought iron gates in front of the mansion of Oliver Queen, her father. She has met him once but he has no idea who SHE is. Cissie knows this is stupid, that he owes her nothing, but she needs comfort and knows nowhere else to find it.
She’d had so many plans. She can’t imagine doing any of it now, except one thing. There are so many holes, more than just the one left by Cassie, and she doesn’t know how to fill them. So she is here. She has wandered, tears intermittently falling down her cheeks, through airport terminals, bus stations, and taxi queues, and now she is here. She is standing outside a pair of wrought iron gates in front of the mansion of Oliver Queen, her father. She has met him once but he has no idea who SHE is. Cissie knows this is stupid, that he owes her nothing, but she needs comfort and knows nowhere else to find it.