Cassie, obviously, had been brought up in the cult. She must have sat in the same punishment room, desperate for freedom. She must have witnessed the chanting, the fights, the humiliating rituals - the trust exercises, as Uncle had referred to them. She must have explored the same nearby countryside, the wooded hills, the wild stretches of heath land that had gone on for miles. She must have run along on the same beach, dipping her toes into the warm sea, searching for fossils.
Perhaps the leader had terrorised Cassie too. An experience shared. An experience no one would willingly have asked for.
She hears his footsteps on the landing, his foot nudging open the bedroom door, his whispers as he treads across the carpet. Pulling the blankets tighter, she holds her breath until her chest aches, praying silently for him to go away.
But he hadn't gone away, had he?
How had Cassie found her after all these years? More concerning, what did Cassie have planned next for her?