Ficly

Memories

She tries to focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other. The rocks are jagged, but when she stumbles, he grabs her hand. His fingers are warm and dry around hers, and she finds herself holding on tight, clinging to that small sense of security.

She stumbles again, this time on purpose, and feels his arm come around her, steadying her, holding her up. Willingly she puts her weight against him, allowing herself once again to be pulled through life.

When they arrive at the lighthouse door, he releases his grip on her waist to jimmy the lock and swing the heavy door open. Roughly, he shoves her inside.

The sirens were what she remembered most from that day. After he had left, and she was alone, lying on the ground, right outside that door. They wailed long and loud when all she wanted was to block out everything.

She remembered her best friend running up to her, her own dress tattered and streaked with dirt. “Cass, what happened?”

But she had shaken her head. No one else could ever know.

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