Incandescence

07: Pact

It's hearing him speak which knocks some sense into me. Without thinking I grab his arm, ignoring the horrible shivers it induces, and tow him across the hall, frantically pulling out my key and shoving it in the lock. I open the door, push him inside and slam my back against it immediately, fighting to catch my breath.

            "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I scream at him. "You can't just wander around the campus – have you lost it? Someone could've seen you!"

            "Well, when you put it like that . . .," Mason drawls apathetically, not even batting an eyelid. I look up and he's sitting on the bed, surveying the grime beneath his fingernails with a bored expression on his face like he's merely studying a math textbook. Bile rises in my throat. Right here, right now, I want to punch him.

            But I know it won't hurt him.

            "Keep out of my way," I spit instead, and rub at the spot between my eyebrows. Composure – I could really be doing with some of that.

            "C'mon April, don't be like that. You're right: I was stupid to leave the room. But I knew it was only you in the halls, anyway. And plus . . ." He trails off, seemingly reluctant to continue. But then he sucks in a ragged breath, looks me straight in the eye and says, "I'm sick of being trapped in here. I just . . ."

            "You just what?"

            Mason breathes heavily and then snarls, "I. Want. Out!"

            The sudden fury in his voice astounds me. I'm not used to him like this. Mason was never one to raise his voice in life, and as far as I was aware, the same could be said for him in death. Well, apparently not. He stands up and crosses the room, quick in his rage, picking up the compact mirror on my window ledge and studying himself through the looking glass. "Just look at me – I'm disgusting. So much dirt and blood and gore. And I stink like month-old off meat. Don't pretend you haven't noticed yet, April."

            I'm still not over being angry, but something about the look of shame buried behind those flat green eyes strikes a chord in me. This is my friend. He's changed, but the Mason I know is still in there somewhere. I should say something, help him, maybe not assure him but at least be honest with him.

            "I noticed," I say, but remain standing by the door.

            "You know what bothers me most? When it's late at night and the rest of the world's asleep, I think about the night it happened. And I think I brought it on myself."

            "Mason –"

            "Don't cut me off," he snaps. "It's true, okay? You know why? Because I only went on that stupid trip to prove a point to my parents. Them, who've always been above the rest of us. Who were always trying to make me into something I'm not. Right before I left they'd been getting on at me 'cause my grades in chemistry were starting to slip – that's all they ever cared about, that I grew up to become this super-smart science genius. They were gonna make me quit the ice hockey team so I could focus more on my sciences.

           "So I got my uncle Al to fake my dad's signature and pay for the whole thing. Then when I went on the trip I didn't bother saying bye, not even to Liv. Eventually they got through to me on Mr Skye's emergency number and they were livid. But you know what I said? To hell with them. That's what they got for trying to live their dreams through me. And now I'll never see them again, or talk to them, or ever get to work things out with them. It's my fault for treating the people who cared like crap."