Page 94 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

THAT'S WHERE SHE LIES

Beckett

The kitchen light spills into the room and around us.

I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust. The walls were once freshly painted with an off-white shade, but now the surface is gathering dust. Framed pictures of a happy family are neatly placed in a row, and I catch Nathaniel’s arm lingering around Cassandra’s shoulders in a few of them.

Her childhood drawings are proudly displayed on the fridge even though the ink is starting to fade. I remember never liking to draw much as a child because picking out colors bored me to death.

The decorative tapestries are old, but there’s something charming about them. Too bad it’s all ruined by the lingering smell of cigarettes sticking to the fabric.

The antique wood floor creaks under my steady steps, making me wince a little as I step closer. It feels unsafe, ready to bend under my weight, and gives an air of both old and new to a house that’s been there for a very long time.

Everything about this home is comfortable enough but somehow not homely, put together and used just enough to look lived in, and yet there’s carelessness, too.

A faint, lingering smell of mold curls in the air. I think no one around cares about keeping it clean.

And then…

Cassandra lets out a horrible, choked-off scream, stumbling back and folding her arms over herself like she’s trying to hide.I take a step forward, my hand itching to reach for her.

The girl with golden hair and lonely green eyes— my Cassandra—is hiding something from me. Her face. And my stomach ties up in knots when I begin to wonder why.

“Cass?”

“Please, Beckett!” her voice is weak. “You can’t tell anyone!”

My heart is pounding in my chest.

My palms feel cold.

There are moments in life when you can choose to look away. I’m not proud to say that I often do. I pretend things aren’t wrong. I lie to others, and even to myself, because it’s easier.

But ever since my sister died, I’ve learned something. Lies are oftentimes more painful. Unlike the truth, which hurts you to heal, like a bandaid being pulled off. Lies cause deep-rooted wounds that fester. It’s like a quiet cancer, rotting you from the inside out.

“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

Somehow, I already know it.

I know why she won’t turn around.

With a quick head nod, I do as I’m told. “I promise.”

“Remember,” she whispers, a little uncertain. “You gave me your word.”

I did.

I so did.

But the second I see her, it makes me want to take it back.

Her small hands drop from her face, just slightly. It’s enough for me to catch the skin around her forehead swelling. Cassandra is shaking. I take the initiative to coax her closer to me, bringing my hands to her arms, guiding her face towards the light. And then, it’s obvious.

I can see her.

I can see everything .

I can retrace my steps back to that night in October when I asked her to watch Lucia’s dog and how it wasn’t the bed frame that hurt her. I can see Cassandra Rivera, her face completely destroyed.

Bruises bloom along her left eye, and her cheek is blue. She’s swollen, her skin irritated, and a vessel in her left eye has popped off. Her lips are split, puffier than usual, and cracked open from impact. She tries to lick them and winces, realizing only too late that it hurts.

“Don’t,” I speak softly, catching how she makes a faint sound of pain. “Don’t do that, baby.”

The pet name makes her lean into my touch a little more. Cassandra just stares at me wide-eyed and fearful, seconds away from panicking. I can feel her nervous energy at the tips of my fingers, and how she’s ready to snap.

“You can’t tell anyone. ”

“It’s okay.” I reassure her by pressing my hands against the sides of her face. “I won’t.”

“You can’t see me.” She shakes her head, gulping down. “You don’t understand.”

I tilt her chin up again, still cradling her face gently.

“What happened, and why didn’t you come to me?” I hear myself ask. Knowing I was always so close, she could have taken a chance. “Cassandra, you can always come to me. I want you to.”

“You weren’t home.” She closes her eyes, her face falling. “I can’t leave the house looking like that.”

It shatters me. Rage building in my chest, simmering right above the surface. A slow sickness, coiling around my ribs, making me want to puke.

I’ll kill him.

I’ll kill them all for what they did to her.

“If Nathaniel even sees me knocking on your door…” Cassandra trails off. “He’ll do a lot worse than just kick me in the face.”

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

I let go of her, worried that I might be adding to the pain, but she grips my sleeve and nods, pressing her hand against my chest. It’s like a silent plea for touch, and I’ve always had complicated feelings about it.

How it so often comes from a place of entitlement, ownership, and control. Hers doesn’t. It never has.

“Show it to me.”

“My… my ribs,” she sobs. “He kicked me there, too. It hurts so bad!”

“Shh.” I pull Cassandra into my arms, and all I can think about is how wrong this is. How is this a crime, and I need to call the police, and each second that I don’t is a second in which I become an accomplice. “Okay.”

She starts sobbing harder, holding onto me for dear life, and I let her pull me to the floor with her. It’s messy and uncoordinated, but none of that matters. I just want to make sure she’s okay.

“It doesn’t matter because you can’t be here!” I hear her gasp over the sobs. “You can’t know!”

“It’s okay,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“No, no, no!”

Cassandra thrashes, her cries turning into panic breaths. She’s hyperventilating. I need to calm her down. I start to stroke her hair, one hand hovering around her wound and the other trying to keep her hands from her face.

We stay like that for a while, just holding each other. After a while, she calms down for a second, her crying reduced to only a few hiccups, before another wave of tears starts falling down again.

All I can do is hold her tighter, keep her close to me, and hope it’s enough, but I feel so goddamn useless. She starts babbling about how she’s terrible, how I should leave, and how she’s a monster for dragging me into this. I don’t know what to say to fix this.

“You don’t understand, Beckett. He’ll kill me. And if he finds you here, he’ll kill you too!”

I’ll kill him first.

“You really don’t understand!” She explains, her eyes flying to the front door, checking to see if he’s there. “You can’t tell anyone, ever! ”

I press my nose to her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. Cassandra smells like coconut and green tea.It’s calming, soothing.Her.

I love her scent.

“Breathe, Cass. Slowly.” I try to guide her to take a longer breath. “You can do it.”

She whines, still struggling against me.

“I can’t!”

“You are,” I whisper. “You’re doing so good, and I’m here now, okay? I won’t leave you alone anymore.”

It takes her another second to register what I’ve said, but when she does, her bloodshot eyes brim with tears.

“No, no. No! You know too much now!” she cries, jaw trembling. “I’ve ruined everything, I’ve…”

“Cassie, no.”

Her voice breaks, and panic rises again. “Why couldn’t you just leave?”

I touch the side of her face gently, trying to imagine how this happened to her. How hard Nathaniel had to hit, how he angled his hand. If she flinched, he enjoyed it. If that’s what this is about.

“How long?” I ask. “How long has he been hurting you?”

Cassandra presses her lips together.

She shakes her head.

Say something.

Say anything.

Please.

“No! M-My brother loves me!” she stutters, her voice breaking when she gets to the end of her sentence. “You don’t get it! I was lying just now! I didn’t mean to say it like that! He’s good! He’s a good brother!”

My chest tightens.

“You have to leave,” she insists, still gripping me so tight. “This is not okay.”

“Yes, it is, Cassandra.” I press my lips to her forehead one last time, wanting nothing more than to drag her out of this house. “Just breathe for me, mn?”

Headlights shine through the curtains before a car parks in front of her house. She looks at me, a sudden moment of clarity crossing her mind. I watch her rise, grab my hand, and start pulling me towards the stairs.

When I look back, I hear Nathaniel’s laugh coming from outside.

***

We hide in her bedroom. She turns the key twice before barricading it with a chair. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before with a girl. I don’t think I ever even had to.

With Alex, I never had to fear her parents finding me with her at her house. But this situation is entirely different, and I get the sense that Nathaniel won’t like it if I’m around his sister. Especially not if it means that I get to see her like this, wounded and vulnerable.

I sit on her bed, eyeing her as she paces, trying to decide on what to do with me, now that I know her secret.

“You can’t stay,” she starts to speak, then hesitates. Her voice is loud, unrestrained. She catches herself when more noise comes from the kitchen and starts to whisper. “You really can’t.”

“Yes, I can, and I will.” I reach out to her, wanting her to stop for a second and breathe. It’s not the worst thing in the world for me to know. At least someone can help her now. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

She takes my hand, fingers hesitantly circling mine, and I pull her into my arms again. “Like this, how?”

“Him hurting you,” I explain, just as quietly. “Cassandra, listen to me. We need to call the cops. We’ll show them what he did to you; tell them what happened. I can talk to them first, if you want to.”

She starts to shake her head, unwilling to listen. “You can’t.”

I listen to her, but still try to keep some sense of reason. It’s normal for her to be reluctant, but it doesn’t mean I have to be.

“Please, don’t ever think of doing that.”

“Why not?” I ask.