Grayson ran as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his chest. His sole focus was to reach Harvard University. In his dream, he had seen Alison in the abandoned garden, and he believed she would be there.
Soon enough, he spotted Harvard University in the distance. Approaching the fence, he carefully measured the distance and height. With confidence, he grabbed the fence and propelled himself upwards, effortlessly climbing over. The breeze gently tousled his hair as he landed softly and wasted no time, dashing towards the stairs that led to the garden.
Grayson hurried through the corridors of Harvard University, his echoing footsteps marking his ascent up the staircase. Leaping over two steps at a time, his movements were agile and determined. In his mind, he hoped to find Alison waiting in the garden, tending to her roses. He imagined her with braided black hair and humming a tune she made up. Wait for me, Alison...
Reaching the top of the stairs, he noticed the faint glow of the ink on the corridor walls. Though dimmer than before, Grayson dismissed any thoughts about it.
Without hesitation, he approached the door leading to the abandoned garden. Grasping the handle firmly, he pushed it open, causing the hinges to protest with a creak. The glow of the ink outside was stronger than the ones inside the building, casting an eerie light on the surrounding foliage. But Grayson paid little attention, his eyes scanning the area in search of Alison. The garden seemed quiet, its stillness broken only by the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.
The moonlight bathed the tranquil garden, where roses swayed gently in the cold wind. And there, amidst the stillness, Grayson's eyes fell upon Alison. She stood on a small chair, holding a rope in her right hand and a bottle of red wine in her left. It wasn't clear if she intended to hang herself, or she was merely drunk.
Grayson's body went numb, his feet rooted to the ground, as he watched Alison adjust the noose around her neck. He stood motionless, unsure if he was even breathing. He pleaded with himself to move, but his body remained unresponsive.
Alison took a step higher on the chair, ready to take that final step, and dropped the bottle of red wine, shattering it below. MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! Grayson begged himself.
In a sudden rush, Mason raced past Grayson, his eyes wide with horror. Just in time, he reached Alison. With swift movements, he grabbed her waist, pulling her away from the edge, preventing her from ending her life.
Grayson remained frozen, his eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. Mason held Alison tightly, his voice filled with urgency and frustration. "DAMMIT, ALISON! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"
Alison looked into Mason's eyes, then glanced down at his hands holding her, and softly asked, "How did you find me?" Her voice carried a gentleness that belied her pain and struggles.
Mason tightened his grip on Alison, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and anger. "ARE YOU SERIOUS? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! YOU COULD'VE DIED!"
Slowly, Alison lifted her eyes back to Mason's gaze, closed them, and slumped against his chest. Mason sighed heavily, carefully removing the rope from her head, his actions filled with relief, anger, and concern.
With Alison cradled in his arms, Mason moved slowly towards the exit where Grayson stood motionless. Step by step, he closed the distance between them, never taking his eyes off Grayson's unmoving figure. His voice expressed weariness and anger as he spoke, "What the hell is wrong with both of you? The fact that she planned to commit suicide, while you just stood there and watched..."
Mason's gaze shifted to Alison, still unconscious in his arms. "I didn't know where she was until I saw you. I knew you were the only one who could lead me to her, so I followed you here." His brown eyes met Grayson's silver eyes. "For that, I thank you."
The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air as Mason's words settled between them. Grayson stood in silence, showing no reaction.
As Mason reached Grayson's side, their eyes locked one final time. In that instant, a deep understanding passed between them, unspoken words conveying the seriousness of the situation. Mason's face revealed exhaustion, frustration, and anger, while Grayson's expression remained blank, as if unaffected by what had just happened.
Mason continued walking, his footsteps echoing through the silent night, leaving Grayson behind. It was like Emily all over again, watching Alison just as he had watched Avery. Why didn't I move?
The realization sent shivers down his spine, causing him to break into a cold sweat. His breath became shallow and rapid, his chest constricting with anxiety. Frustrated and overwhelmed, he balled his hand into a fist and punched the wall behind him. Blood streaked down the wall as Grayson pressed his hand flat against it.
"Why?" he whispered to himself, his trembling fingers struggling to grasp the door handle. Time seemed to freeze as his hand hovered over the knob, his shaking hands momentarily paralysing him. The simple act of turning the handle felt monumental, as his mind raced with doubts and uncertainties.
Seeking a distraction, a way to redirect his thoughts, Grayson's gaze fell upon one of Alison's glow-in-the-dark ink writings.
"September 17th, Why does the melody of sorrow linger longer than the laughter of joy?"
Alison...
Reading those words only intensified his doubts, deepening the turmoil within him. His trembling finger traced the glowing letters, a single tear rolling down his cheek. The weight of his suppressed emotions became unbearable, an ache that reverberated in the depths of his soul. Grayson allowed himself to weep, releasing the pent-up sadness and guilt that had consumed him for far too long. If there was one thing that a Hawthorne despised, it was vulnerability—the sensation of being exposed and in need of help.
Closing his eyes, tears streaming down his face, Grayson whispered softly, "I'm sorry." His words carried not only an apology to Alison, but also to Emily and Avery—the ones he had failed to protect, the ones he had watched suffer. "I'm sorry," he whispered once again, his voice filled with a mix of sadness, and regret. "I'm sorry..."