Bad Isn't Always Terrible (REWRITING)

Chapter 14

*Charlotte*

Something was off with Mason the next day.

At first, I'd just assumed he wasn't here. As much as I hate to admit it, I did find myself looking around the hallways for any sign of the tall, intimidating asshole. It wasn't until I made it to our mutual class did I notice the hooded figure next to me. In my initial stupidity, I almost told the guy there that he was in my friend's seat, before I actually realized it was Mason.

He was hunched over, his hooded face resting in the crook of his arms. The hoodie looked old; maybe even older than the one he'd sued to tie the wrists of the guy in the library. His breathing was shallow and looked almost painful, and I immediately knew he wasn't really asleep.

I couldn't help worrying about him, especially after all that I'd learned about him. I may not know every aspect of his life, but I knew enough to tell that Mason really was a good guy. Arrogant, irritating, teasing, and a complete pain in the ass; but still a good guy.

"Mason?" I asked softly, hoping he'd answer. I had a strong feeling that he wouldn't.

He grunted in response, and I smiled slightly. Hey, at least I got some kind of response, right?

"Well, good morning to you too, grouchy." I saw his body shake a little with silent laughter, before it locked up. It relaxed some after a moment, but I could tell he was in some sort of pain. I sighed. "Mason, what's wrong?"

I heard him let out a sigh heavier than mine. "Nothing."

My eyes widened in surprise at the hoarse, scratchy voice. Was he sick? "Mason, look at me."

"No."

"Mason, please—"

"Charlotte, I fucking said no!"

Well, someone's PMS-ing...

The entire class went silent as everyone turned their attention to Mason. His head was off of his arms, but still lowered enough for his face to remain out of my sight. I had the feeling nobody else in the class could see his face either, but no one had the guts to make him take off the hood.

"What?" He hissed, with what I could only guess was a glare, since I couldn't actually see his face. Everyone instantly turned their heads back to the front, and Mrs. Helen sent him one last glare before continuing to speak to the class. Mason let out a loud sigh that almost sounded... sad?

"That's it," I muttered, standing from my desk and grabbing Mason's wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked, once again causing the class to glance up at us.

"Shut up," I growled, dragging him to the door and flinging it open, ignoring the looks we were getting from the class and teacher. I dragged Mason to the girls bathroom-despite his grunts of protest—and shut the door, not waiting a second before spilling my thoughts. "What the fuck is going on with you?"

Mason kept his head down, and it took me a moment to realize he was watching my hand on his wrist. I immediately let go and dropped my arm limply at my side.

"Nothing," he answered, voice still scratchy as it had been in class.

"Bullshit."

His head finally shot up, irritation clear on his face. "What the hell do you want from me, Charlotte?"

I gasped in surprise, taking a step back so that I was against the bathroom door. I flung my hands to my mouth as my eyes widened.

Mason's left eye was bruised, as was his right temple and jaw home. His bottom lip was busted, and there was a cut across the bridge of his nose, as well as a small slash across his cheekbone.

He sighed and pulled the hood down, letting me see his face more clearly. My eyes drifted down to his bruised neck, and I realized the reason his voice had been scratchy.

Mason had been choked, if the bruised handprints were anything to go by.

"Oh my god," I breathed.

Mason let out a dry laugh. "Fuck God. If that son of a bitch gave a damn about me, none of this would be happening to me every fucking day."

His eyes widened when he realized he said to much, and realization hit me. There were a few reasons as to why this could be happening, but there was one that was clear on my mind. I wasn't an idiot.

I thought back to the time when we had to decide who's house we were going to work on our project at, and how he was adamant on not going to his. Granted, I had my own reasons for not going to my own, which is probably why I hadn't questioned it then.

I remembered the times he'd stayed at the bridge with me, even though it'd only been twice. He could have gone home those nights, and it made me wonder how many other times he'd stayed there.

I remembered how pissed he'd gotten over that kid's dad at the library, and then his panic about needing to be home by a certain time after. That also brought the memory of the woman at the flower shop, though I had no way of knowing if that had anything to do with what was going on now-even if I did have my suspicion.

I also thought about the fact that no one had ever really seen Mason get into any street fights. He obviously didn't pick on people at the school, being as the only bruises they carried were from the other pricks here. I'd never actually seen Mason hit anyone besides the day at the library, and one video of him beating up some people a few months back.

It also made sense with what he told me about the rumours of him sleeping with girls. If he really was having the problems I thought he was, then he'd never have any time to screw any of the sluts here. It would make sense that he'd be a virgin.

It also made sense why he didn't seem to care about a single thing in his life, except his mom and friend that were murdered-by the same person, might I add. He was practically a genius, but he didn't bother showing how smart he was at school. I never saw him with a girlfriend, and noticed that he seemed pretty closed off to everyone. He most likely had more important things to worry about.

So, I took a deep breath, and asked the question that was gnawing at the front of my mind.

"Mason, are you... are you being abused?"

Mason tensed up with wide eyes, before forcing himself to relax with a straight face; but I knew better. His first reaction answered my question without him having to speak a word.

Mason Carter was being abused, and I vowed—right then and there—to do everything in my power to stop it.

*****

I am so so so so so so soooo sorry for the late updates... I've sort of had a serious case of Writer's block recently.

Also, sorry bout the cliff hangar, there's a lot of shit going down in the next chapter, and I'd either have to cut things out, or stretch the chap to fit them. I decided it would be better just to a bit more and made the next chapter better.

So... anyways, uh, what did you think of this chapter? Charlie finally figured it out, huh?

Anyone figured out how Mason uses her nicknames yet? 'Angel' usually. 'Charlie' when he's serious. 'Charlotte' when he's severely pissed off lol

Anyways, don't forget to VOTE, FOLLOW, and COMMENT... even of you hate me for updating late!

Thank You!

~Aubrey