𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Living in New York, you would think I would be used to waking up in the middle of the night from various unsettling noises. From police sirens, people arguing, to the occasional blasts of vehicles driving by with their bass up too high. But tonight, I quickly realize I am not accustomed to waking up to things crashing downstairs. Inside my home at that.

I throw the duvet off of me and dangle my legs over the edge when Poppy enters the room.

"What's wrong, girl?" I slide off the bed groggily and slowly make my way to her. Although, when I reach her, she bolts down the hall. My eyes follow her when she reaches the stairs and lets out a soft whimper before running down them.

Another thud occurs downstairs when I suddenly remember.

Cain's downstairs.

My hand grips the metal rail of my spiral staircase while I descend them carefully. When I reach the living room, Cain is on the floor, wrapped in the felt blanket I gave him last night. His head thrashes back and forth, murmuring protests against his demons so quietly you would miss it if you didn't know better.

"No..." he begs. His eyes are pinched tightly with lines forming on both sides of his wet eyes.

I carefully maneuver past the now broken end table lamp and kneel beside his quivering body. Without a second thought, I gently place my hand on his shoulder and rub soothingly.

"Cain," I whisper. "It's okay."

Poppy lies beside Cain's legs, her nose nuzzling underneath him. A slow rhythm of her whimpers is the only thing heard until Cain's head starts shaking again.

"Cain," I say a little louder this time. "You're safe."

Tears well in my eyes while I continue rubbing circles on his arm. The feeling of his goosebumps under my palms serve as a gentle reminder he must feel me with him.

"It's okay. I'm with you," I whisper. A tear slowly escapes my eye as it rolls down my cheek.

That's when he completely loses it.

His feet thrash around, the vibrations in the floor sending shockwaves through my body. My internal panic threatens to become external when I place both hands on his sweat drenched arms.

"Cain!" I say louder this time.

"No! No! No, please!" he shouts. His arms leave my hands while he throws them over his head—as if he needed extra protection.

Then suddenly, his eyes fly open. The whites in his eyes now decorated in small red spiderwebs. The look on his face is something that will live forever in my memory. The absolute terror that's etched on this grown man's face is heartbreaking. Especially when it's worn by Cain. He doesn't deserve any of this.

I sniffle as quietly as I can, not wanting him to think he upset me. That's the last thing he needs right now. I scoot myself across the floor to get closer before I lay my hand delicately on his shoulder once more. I peer up at him when his crystal blue eyes meet mine, and the storm that's brewing in them would make my knees buckle if I weren't already on the floor. He's so broken, and I'm terrified he's beyond repair at this point.

I rest my head against his bare shoulder and resume my attempt at soothing him—if that's even possible. My arm moves in slow, shaky strokes along his bicep. My fingernails lightly graze along every dip and crevice in his muscles. I wait patiently for his breathing to steady with each exhale when he finally lets out a full breath.

"When is this going to stop, Cass?" he asks with a husky, shuddering breath.

I don't say anything. What can I say that he doesn't already know? He knows what he needs to do. It's getting him to actually do it is the problem. I try to remind myself that he'll do it when he's ready, but God, I wish he'd take that step.

I peel my head from his shoulder. "Let me get you some water," I say before standing.

While walking to the kitchen, I peer behind me to see Cain cleaning up the glass shards from the broken lamp. My heart aching while watching him and imagining him picking up pieces of himself. As much as I hate seeing him fight to keep his demons at bay, at least then he had something. That was always the one thing he looked forward to for years. And now he doesn't look forward to much of anything.

After filling a tall glass of ice water, I return to Cain and slide to the floor beside him.

"You didn't have to do that," I say while handing him the glass.

"Do what? Break your lamp?" He motions to the now empty table.

A smile threatens to spread along my lips, but I swallow it back. "No, I meant you didn't have to clean it up. I would have done that."

"I wouldn't make a mess and expect you to pick it up, Cass." He takes a slow sip of water as the condensation from the glass spirals down his forearm.

"Don't worry about it," I say before resting my chin on my knees.

He rests the glass down on the floor beside him while he stares into it. The silence is painful. Sometimes I just want to shake him and yell 'just tell me what's going on.' And other times—like right now—I just want to hold him. To be his person to lean on when he needs it most and for him to tell his secrets to. I'd give anything to go back to when we were seventeen, sneaking out to watch the sun go down on the rooftops while pointing out the constellations.

"Do you... remember the night I came in through your window when we were around eleven?" he asks quietly. The sudden noise almost startles me, and I find myself wondering if I heard him right.

"Which time?" I ask while tilting my head to the side.

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "It's sad that it was so many times we can't even pinpoint it by age."

I say nothing in response and watch him instead. He swallows hard while his fingers glides against the rim of his glass.

"The time I came in through your window and just about hid in your closet all night," he finally says.

"Yeah. I remember," I confirm quietly.

"That's the night I keep dreaming about."

A sudden chill stiffens my spine. I don't say a word. Afraid if I say anything, he'll start overthinking and decide he doesn't want to talk about it. He needs someone to listen to him.

"I was just a kid," he says exasperatedly, before his eyes suddenly meet mine. "Eleven fucking years old, but because I forgot to lock the door, it was somehow my fault the house got robbed. We wouldn't have even been robbed if he would have just paid the guy."

My eyebrows pinch together while my thoughts swim in circles. "Wait, paid what guy?"

He licks his teeth before shrugging. "I don't know. Some loser he owed money for drugs, I assume now."

I blow out a slow breath. Him saying it now makes sense. I remember that day. He came in through my window before my parents moved me to the upstairs bedroom. He wouldn't come out of my closet until I promised to turn the lights off so nobody next door could see inside my bedroom. He just kept saying things like he didn't mean to and he was sorry. My heart threatens to crack in two at the memory of overhearing my parents bickering with each other about to do about 'that neighbor kid.'

"What do I do, Cass?" he asks with so much desperation it kills me.

I suck in my bottom lip and chew on it. He's not going to like my recommendation, but it's one he needs to hear and he's asking for it this time. It's either I say it and he ignores it, or maybe he'll listen for once.

"You could get back into fighting," I suggest quietly. I play with the hem of my nightgown, tugging on a loose strand and watch as it starts to bunch. "I think it would really help with everything. Not just your trauma, but I know fighting is what you want to do career wise."

"Yeah," he says under his breath. Not disregarding, not disagreeing, either. It sounds like he's actually contemplating.

"What's holding you back?" I drop my hands into my lap to stop my fidgeting. "I know you keep telling yourself you're a monster, Cain, but you're not. It was an accident."

"He ended up in the hospital, Cassie—"

"Yes, he got hurt and yes, he had to spend some time in the hospital, but something you need to understand," I say before scooting toward him. I place his hands in my lap and force him to look at me when his eyes pierce right through me. "Is that you didn't mean to. He knew what he signed up for when he got into that ring. Everybody knows the risks they're taking. If you take these classes, it'll help you control your anger."

He sucks in a breath before dragging his eyes from mine and onto our joined hands. My fingers burn with the prolonged contact, but I don't pull away. This is the most he's let me do in years and I feel awful taking advantage of it, but I just can't pull away.

"Okay."

My mouth falls open, like a fish out of water with how much it opens and closes. "What did you say?"

He looks up slowly before shrugging. "I said okay. I'll give it a sho—"

I don't let him finish talking before my arms are wrapped around his neck and tears are streaming down my cheeks. "Oh my God, Cain. Thank you," I say through the lump that's currently lodged in my throat.

He wraps a single arm around me, and the butterflies that soar through my stomach multiply like wildfire. I can't remember the last time he's hugged me back. Hopefully, this will be the road to his self healing and his happiness.

That's all I can ask for is for him to try.