Perfectly Safe

Madison Anne

Description

In small town Tennessee, manipulation, gossip, and lies run rampant. At the very center of it all lies Cassandra and her loved ones. First, she watches her best friend's sister die of cancer, and because of the choices her best friend makes, she watches him be ostracized and gossiped about. Two years later, things are still the same: they are inseparable but their families will do anything to tear them apart.

However, when Cassandra learns the truth about her past, her families' past, and her best friend's past, things start shifting, perhaps for the worst. Her life starts falling apart at a cancer diagnosis and the revelation of buried secrets.

The lines start blurring together as Cassandra wrestles through her relationships with her family, her faith, and her own life, but one thing is certain: she will go to any length, no matter what, to protect her best friend. Including sacrificing her siblings.

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 30 janvier 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781387555307
• Langue: English

Extrait

Perfectly Safe
Madison Anne
 
Copyright © 2018 Madison Kanneman
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the cast of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, address “Permission Request” at the address below.
 
www.madisonannewrites.com
[e-mail]
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-3875-5530-7
 
~Other books by Madison Anne~
 
The Ogobeast Series:
The Roar of the Ogobeast
 
Devos:
A Love Worth Dying For
The Joy of the Season
 
Perfectly Safe Series:
Perfectly Safe
Unconditionally
Ready or Not
Contents
Cassandra
Evelyn
Meira
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Evelyn
Cassandra
Evelyn
Meira
Cassandra
Evelyn
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Evelyn
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Evelyn
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Evelyn
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Meira
Cassandra
Evelyn
Danny
Cassandra
Evelyn
Danny
Meira
Evelyn
Cassandra
Evelyn
Danny
Danny
Evelyn
Cassandra
Evelyn
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Evelyn
Evelyn
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Evelyn
Danny
Evelyn
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Danny
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Cassandra
Meira
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Cassandra
Meira
Danny
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Cassandra
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Cassandra
Danny
Meira
Cassandra
Unconditionally
 
Cassandra
I knew I loved him before I even knew how to ride a bike. It came more natural to me than breathing; at six years old, the two of us were inseparable, and everyone at church was watching us, grinning. We grew up, became best friends, and still, nothing changed. We ’re as close as we were back when we were little kids, and I love it.
Nothing changing, except the death of his sister and how everyone in church hates him.
Something beeps beside me and grows louder as I lay here. The machine starts screaming, and before I can cry out, everything goes black. Nothing. No air. Nothing. Pain everywhere, but no air, no matter how many times I gulp in. I hear voices yelling but they never help me. I ’ m surrounded in blinding darkness, my world turning silent. Everything fades away to an empty, airless black. It haunts me at least once a week; the nightmare always returns when I least expect it. I used to keep myself awake for as long as possible. I used to avoid sleep. It doesn ’ t work. No matter what I do, it comes back, each time worse than the last.
It comes back every time I close my eyes. I can ’ t even hold my phone straight but I just ignore that and start dialing his number.
Come on. I know you keep your phone next to you as you sleep. You ’ ve done that since you were thirteen, when your parents had to take your sister to the ER in the middle of the night and left you at home. You hadn ’ t known they were trying to call you. Now you don’t go anywhere without it. You always lay it by your side as you sleep.
I try again. Still no answer , only silence. Silence, and the memory of my nightmare. Silence, and feeling all alone. Silence, and the malevolent darkness swallowing me. I break the silence with my shaky voice. “ Come on, ” I say to the ceiling. “ Please, let him answer. Just let me hear his voice say ‘ hello ’ , that ’ s all I need right now ”.
Again, I dial his number. By the fourth ring, my finger is on the end call button, ready to click off, and my tears are about to fall again, but then I hear the line change, and my heart jumps. Finally. I knew it. He’s always there when I need him.
“ It’s four in the morning, ” his voice is groggy with a hint of irritation. “ And you have the wrong number ”.
My sister wouldn’ t have picked up. She ’ s a deep sleeper, just like my father, and even the apocalypse couldn ’ t wake her up. I couldn ’ t wake my parents. My dad would be grumpy and my mother would be snappy. God knows she ’ d start yelling at me. But I could depend on him.
I laugh at him. “ I don ’ t think so, ” I say softly, walking to my closet and sitting inside it. I keep my voice barely above a whisper, just in case. Put on your glasses, then you’d know it’s me calling.
“Cass?” Immediately his voice changes and grows lighter.
“ Yeah, ” I say as I try to stifle a yawn.
“ What are you doing? ” He asks breathlessly. “ Cass, your mom …”
“ I had a nightmare ”. I’m seventeen years old, and I’m calling my best friend in the middle of the night, just because I have a nightmare? I need to pull myself together.
“ Do you want to tell me about it? ” His voice is gentle, soft.
“ It ’ s the same one. You know, where I can ’ t breathe, and everything goes black …”
“ Oh Cass, ” he whispers.
“ It was so real. What if it happens? ” I push my long hair back behind my shoulders, biting my nails.
He ’s quiet for a long moment, and I almost think he’s fallen back asleep. Then he finally says something. “ It won ’t”.
“ You don ’ t know that ”.
“ I know, ” he says, his voice turning harder, “ I will never lose you ”.
“ How do you know? ”
“ Cass, ” he ’ s borderline snapping at me, and I can just imagine how irritated his grey eyes look—he almost never uses this tone with me, “don’ t talk like that ” . I have to bite back my smile. I can just imagine what he looks like: his hair all messy, his eyes stormy, in his d on’t mess with m e mode.
Both of us go quiet again, but I can still hear him as he breathes. I close my eyes, listening to the sound, imagining he is beside me, his arm wrapped around me. Safe.
“ Are you still there? ” He asks softly.
“ Yeah, ” I say. My voice is every bit as groggy as his was when he answered the phone.
“ I gotta go, Cass … ..My dad ’ s up ”.
I wrinkle my nose. “ Great ”.
“ Try to go back to sleep ”.
“ What, while you get up at the crack of dawn to work? ”
“ I’m fine, Cass. Don’t worry about me”.
But I do. I worry about him more than he knows.
Evelyn
There are a few things everyone needs to understand about me. Well, three things. If you spend five minutes with me, you ’ll pick up on them.
1. My sister is my baby girl. No one messes with her.
2. If you ’re looking for a strong opinion, I’m your girl.
3. I do not play nice. Never. I really mean never. I don ’t play by the rules and I don’t play nice, especially when it comes to protecting my little sister. No one can get between me and her.
There ’re also three things you should know about my sister.
1. She is crazy-protective of me. I mean crazy . If you think I’m bad, she’s a million times worse.
2. She picked up all her traits from me.
3. She is madly in love with the most shunned member of our small town community.
Meira
Without a second glance back, I left. I’ d contemplated it all throughout my senior year in high school, waited until I graduated, and abandoned my family, everyone I loved. A part of me was still hopeful: maybe things would change. They didn ’ t. I lost hope. And I left. I would ’ ve stayed if I could; before the cancer, I was convinced I would never leave my brother. I refused to even think about it. He was everything to me. He was the reason I stayed alive and why I didn ’ t give up. He was the reason I breathed every morning. I loved that little boy more than anyone else in the world. To me, he was the sweetest thing on this earth. His little eyes would smile up at me when I cried. His laughter could make me smile when pain overtook my body.
I wanted to give up. Practically once a day I called Rebecca, my mentor, and she would talk me down. It was always the same situation: I ’ d either be home alone, on my bed, shaking, or locked in my bathroom while my father drank, pills in my hand. I had her number on speed dial. I still do. No matter how much she tried to talk me down, I still left. No amount of her pleading could keep me there. She tried to convince me to call the cops on my father during a bad night, but I couldn ’ t; it would ’ ve rocked our family too much. I was so afraid of being separated from my brother. In our last conversation, I made her promise to look after my mother, to check in on my family. Most importantly, I told her to protect my brother at all costs. I knew she couldn ’ t do much; she didn ’ t live in our house to see what happened, but still, knowing she would be watching him made me feel better. She ’ d never broken a promise to me.
I’ m old now, so much older than I ’ d expected I would live. The cancer was supposed to do me in. My health could change in the blink of an eye. I could become even sicker, and in my heart, I know I won ’ t survive it the next round, with my dysautonomia worsening and my nausea consuming me. But my family won ’ t watch me suffer. This time, I won ’ t have to cry as my brother tugs at my hand, asks me to play with him, as I lay on the couch, trying to breath through the nausea and dizziness.
Telling him no was every bit as difficult as leaving.
I