As I walk to my mother’s car, carrying a lot more than I came with, I feel like my head is really heavy. I wasn’t as prepared for this encounter as I thought I was.
Cassandra Connelly is definitely a brilliant person; but she’s also as manipulative as he was. She knows exactly what to say to gain entrance into your mind. She knows how to get to me. I don’t know if she can do that to everyone, if every person lets her in that way, but I guess she does. She told me the other inmates like to use her as some sort of therapist, and I think Officer Fernandez didn’t use all her menacing powers with her—she was a little indulgent, in fact, with her prisoner. She’s charismatic; people like her and when you like someone, you lower your guard around them.
Before the interview, the warden had told me how Cassandra, in her first year incarcerated, had already developed her own entourage. Prisoners that defended her and followed her all around. Her entourage included the prison’s most violent offenders.
Cassandra had seemed so sad when letting her defenses down, but that only happened briefly before she recovered. She’s used to hiding her true self, I believe.
And what about me? Am I hiding the true Camille under this obedient, recovering shell? Is there more damage in me than I thought, than everyone thought?
Are my feelings deeper, meaner than I would like to admit?
Is the damage done to my life far worse than I thought?
Should I allow anger to surface sometimes? Should I at least investigate to see what anger may be deeply imbedded in me?
I was so proud of myself this morning; I felt so in control of my life. The four-hour drive here all by myself…
No. She’s wrong. There was no merge between us. No merge happened today. Cassandra Connelly is just a mean girl; a bully, trying to mess with my head. But after eight years with him…with Uncle Bob—there, I should say it; I can’t just deny his existence and what he did to me by refusing to say his name No one can mess with my head but me. And I don’t feel like doing that now.
If this visit was worth anything, it was to make me realize that I am in control. I can say his name, I can say I hate him, I can say my life was a mess until I escaped. I can. As long as I keep in mind that I still have time to build the life I want. That I did overcome it all, and I’m healing. That I have problems, but I also have answers and I have help. I can be happy. I just have to live the way I have been living it—making my own choices.
Cassandra can’t do that. Her past controls her life; she has no future. She keeps focused on her past, she keeps thinking life owes her better treatment, but she does everything wrong to demand that.
In the end, it’s all a matter of choice. You can keep moaning, complaining, and letting your past ruin your future in the process. Or you can choose to survive, to heal, to live with your scars and still be happy. That’s my choice.
CASSANDRA
“Delores, let me tell ya, that girl is a mess. I can see it. She thinks she’s in control and that she has a chance, but the things that were done to her are too much to recover from. No one can live normally after that.
She’s going to snap. Someday, you’ll see. She’ll fucking snap and do something crazy. She will. She can’t live hiding that anger forever. Just like with me, she’s gonna need vengeance.
In the end, she’ll accept that we merged. She’ll do the right thing, then. She will act like me.”
About the Author
Renata F. Barcelos lives in Brazil with her beautiful and creative daughter and teaches English and Spanish as Second Languages. She watches way too much TV and reads perhaps too many (almost exclusively) mystery novels. Nonetheless, she has somehow convinced herself it’s all work—research for her own stories.
She writes for as long as she can remember, and has three published works: Mean: a Psychological Thriller Novelette, My Sore Hush-a-Bye and Merge.
She’s now working on a novel called Myself in Blue.
https://renatafbarcelos.wordpress.com
@RenataFBarcelos
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