Copyright © 2025 by Brittany Noelle
CASSIDY
“Was it so much to want the world in my hand? Not to control, but to mold, fix, protect. And let it run around on its young, knobby legs. Let it fail, yes, but help it grow from those failures. There’ve been so many failures…”
by user tea_and_fangs
I BLEED STORY INTO the keyboard. Flowing phrases, daring dialogue, twisting plots—all pull from my fingers like magic. The outside world fades to a myth, no longer caging me with violent sounds and nauseating scents. Here, among the fictions and artificial pixels of my laptop screen, my curiosity is free to stretch its wings, test the air with its tongue. This space between life and dream is where I belong, and I fill it completely with every word I can conjure from my soul. Everything. Just. Clicks.
Cut to a red-striped crop top hitting me square in the face.
“You’re not even listening,” Chloe teases. “Hearing voices again?”
Fantasies melt away. Keyboard taps cease. The bedroom materializes like a dream dissolving. Purple and black scarves cover the lamp shades, casting the room in sweet, bruise-colored shadows. Photos scatter the walls, a collage of memories grounding me back in the present, reminding me where I am. Spooky movie marathons, honey-soaked cornbread, diner coffee at midnight. I remember this place, and my tense shoulders relax an inch.
Adjusting my crooked blue-light glasses, I resist the heat creeping up my neck. “No, no voices.” I push the laptop away, fingers reluctant to let go. I hold up the shirt she threw at me and give a soft snort. “This won’t even cover half my body.”
“Duh.” Chloe massages her spiky black hair into shape. “That’s the point. Show off what you got, Cass.”
“And what have I got?”
“Nerve.”
She turns, hands on hips, the picture-perfect punk lead in any story. Her vintage print tank top and silver skull necklace declare her attitude loud and clear. She flops down beside me and pulls the laptop close.
“I said no working. I was gone two hours and you’re not even dressed. Does the Duke finally die?”
I snap the laptop shut. “No spoilers.”
“Even on my birthday?”
“Especially on your birthday.”
She gives me a dramatic groan, then snaps upright. “He dies, doesn’t he? You’re killing the Duke for me.”
I can’t lie to her, smile slipping over my lips.
She leaps off the bed, fist-pumping. “Hell yes. It better be gory. That douche deserves the death of Caesar.”
With a spin, she grabs a pair of large metal scissors and stabs the air. “Hiyah! But for now…” She points the blades at me. “You need to change.” Snip snip. “I’m busting you out of that cocoon, sister.”
“But I like it in here,” I argue, flapping an oversized sleeve.
Chloe laughs, gathering hair clips and a spray bottle. She disappears into the bathroom, leaving behind tubes of half-empty hair dye. I twirl a piece of blonde hair protectively.
A voice drifts through the room, unheard by Chloe. A warm, aged laugh. She’s been practicing different cuts on herself all month. I’d back out now.
The words send a familiar tingle behind my ears. I twitch, massage it away. Chloe’s mom. Kind, teasing. Honey scents drift in the air, an echo of her Sunday night cornbread in the oven from years ago. From when she was alive…
Her voice hasn’t come to me all day. What triggered her now?
I play along and answer out of the corner of my mouth, “She’s not touching a single hair.”
For now, Chloe’s mom laughs.
Her teasing is normal. Or at least the version of her my mental illness conjures whenever I return to this house. Her voice is usually a comfort, but today, it only deepens the awkward ache in my chest that’s lasted all afternoon. Chloe’s picked up a fashion bug since I left for college, a departure from our high school days where we’d make fun of girls who caked their faces with makeup while we goofed around at marching band camp. I always, and still do, believe my sweaters and long hair offer a perfect hiding place from the world. No need to invite attention. But suddenly tonight Chloe wants us both to dress up nice, make an impression, stamp our mark on the world.
Oh, don’t pout. She’s only having fun. She’s missed you so much. Just one night.
I nod and stash my laptop under a pillow. I’m here for Chloe’s birthday. And if this is her new hobby, I support it. Of course. I can make it one night; give her the focus she deserves.
Chloe winks from the hallway and ducks into a cupboard. I practice a smile. Hold it. Even as my fingers twitch for my keyboard. Tempted to sink back into the Internet’s ghoulish glow. To hide from the world.
A puff of winter-cold air brushes my cheek. My stomach knots, the skin behind my ears twinges as a deep, male voice twists through my skull and whispers, Can’t stay hidden forever, little Cassidy.
This is new. His voice is dark. Cold and slithering. I curl in on myself, rub my ears. Push the unfamiliar voice back. A struggle I’ve practiced. While Chloe rummages, I slip an orange pill bottle from my bag and swallow my first antipsychotic of the day.
Ah, so you can hear me, the voice drawls. Not just doting dead mummy. Good to know.
Ignore him, honey, Chloe’s mom urges, distant. Do what you have to do.
Minutes pass. Medication dissolves. Until my thoughts slow, then freeze in place, a mental loading circle whirring with no end. The tips of my nose and fingers numb. Chloe’s mom fades.
Yet the man’s voice lingers. European, dry. Chuckling through me. Persistent.
Cold… like the icy presence of twin ghosts in my childhood bedroom.
I gasp, open my eyes, expecting double black stares, reaching frosted hands.
But it’s Chloe who fills the doorway, grinning. “C’mon, you have to change!” She tosses more clothes, rattling off names of party guests. Bouncing between thoughts like her brain’s on a trampoline.
I try to relax. Hide my worry. It’s her birthday. I can’t have an episode. Not tonight. I try to hype myself up for the night of horror movies and double butter popcorn. And meeting her new friends… Social anxiety beats dealing with auditory hallucinations, right? I can deal. I will deal. For her.
“Hey, wake up!” Chloe snaps her fingers.
I jolt.
She squints. “Already bored? Zoning out?”
“I-I was just…”
“Hearing voices?”
I nod.
She scans me with her blue-lined eyes. Then gives a side-smirk. “What’s mom got to say this time?” She huffs and falls back on the bed at my side. “Happy birthday? Proud of me?”
I hesitate. “She… likes your hair.”
Chloe picks at her locks, smiles. “Of course she doesn’t. She’s just saying that.” She kicks her legs, then asks quietly, “Don’t you ever want to… tell them to fuck off?”
“What?”
“The voices. Aren’t they annoying?”
“Yeah.” My mouth goes dry. “Understatement.”
She doesn’t know the full story. I’ve never told her. Not about the episodes. Not the blackouts. Not the real-life dead bodies…
“Well, tell them to fuck off.” She raises both middle fingers to the ceiling fan. “Gotta mean it, though. Shout it. C’mon!”
I shake my head, hide in my hair. “It’s fine. They’re fine.”
She watches me, then grins. “Okay, I was gonna keep this a surprise but…” She hurries to the bag at the bedroom door and pulls out a thin cardboard box.
My stomach drops. “A spirit board?”
“Yeah. We can get those things outta you. I figured it can’t hurt, right? To try? I need your expertise, though. You’re my spooky expert.”
I stare at the board. The letters. The YES and NO. The grinning sun and moon in the corners.
Oh yes, the dark voice whispers. I’d love to chat in a more… intimate setting.
My heart pulses hard in my throat. How is he still talking to me?
Chloe sets the board on the costume pile and pulls me up. “Pick something to wear. They’ll be here soon.”
Right… The party. The strangers. And now a séance.
“Why’d you have to invite…?” I trail off. Shake my head. “I thought this was our birthday night.”
“It is. But two people can’t perform a proper séance.”
“Yeah they can,” I say, then quickly add, “Not th-that we should!”
“You make no sense! You write about spooky stuff all the time. Halloween is our holiday.”
“B-books and movies are different.”
“It’s just a game.”
She toes the board aside. The YES and NO glare at me.
Listen to your little friend, the voice says. I want to say hello.
I shiver, rub at my ringing ears. That sounds too close to a threat.
Chloe bends for the costumes again. “Here, perfect. Try this one.”
I’m too jellied to stop her. White noise swallows my mind. I let her dress me. My yellow sweater gone. A red-striped crop top slipped in its place. A sailor hat. Makeup. Heat to curl my hair. I go limp, letting her mold me. Letting the distraction take me.
Until she pulls me to the mirror.
“Ah!” I recoil.
Chloe hugs me, curving around me like a crescent moon. “Halloween is for new faces. Becoming someone else.”
“This isn’t… I’m not…”
“You are.”
I study the reflection. Try to see what she sees. My cheeks go warm. Have I ever shown the world my knees? No one needs to see my knees.
Then the movie in my mind starts to roll. A Halloween coming-of-age romp. Chloe, the lead. Me, the shy sidekick.
Just us. Against the world. The Punk and the Pin-up.
My shoulders finally ease down.
“No more hiding, Miss Witch,” she teases.
The nickname warms me. A sweet syrup of memory. She gave it to me the first week I moved here. When I looked half-dead with grief, whispered rumors following me through the school, clothes dark, bags under my young eyes darker.
Chloe never judged. Called me a cool witch. Let me in. Encouraged me to turn trauma into story. Asked for messages from her mom. Believed in me when I couldn’t.
She became my anchor. Her bouncing smile and teasing jokes filtering out the horrors of my mind. To her, I wasn’t crazy. I was just her best friend. That’s how I wanted to keep it. Needed to keep it. If I was going to face a group of strangers tonight, I needed that foundational truth more than ever. To keep my broken mind from taking control, from doing terrible things…
I glance away as she searches for scarves. My eyes fall on the spirit board. The letters seem to hold energy, voices of their own. Tentative, I pick it up.
“Chloe… I really don’t want to play.”
She studies me. “Spin the bottle, then?”
I jolt. “I’m not kissing anyone.”
“Even me?” She shoots a coy smile.
“What? I…”
She tackles me onto the bed. The pillows flop to the floor; the laptop thuds hard after them. Laughter erupts. And I give in. Like I always do with Chloe. Always there for me. A better distraction from my mental darkness than any pill could ever be.
I think of the laptop. The birthday gift inside. A new fantastical tale Chloe has been begging for, starring herself and me on an epic paranormal adventure where we kick butt and take all the demon names. A low tingle in my stomach pulses. Will she like it?
Chloe winks. “Don’t worry. I’ll change your mind. We’ll call on all the spirits. Clear away the ghosts.” She dips close, tapping a finger to the center of my forehead.
The promise glistens on her face. Her eyes glow like beacons.
She is very vibrant, little Cassidy, the cold voice murmurs. Odd, isn’t it? Such brightness, tied to someone as drab as you?
His words pierce; the pills aren’t working like they should.
But Chloe is here. Warm and real and laughing. And that gives me enough strength to sit up, spine straight. “Well,” I say, locking eyes with her, “you’re gonna have to try pretty hard to change my mind.”
She leans in, nose brushing mine. “I have a few tricks.”
My heart skips. My thoughts glitch.
Then she whispers, “No more hiding, Miss Witch,” and giggles once, raspberry perfume curling between us.
Her ocean-blue eyes swallow me whole.
And I let them.