I FOUND MASON at the police station.
Apparently he'd gone there after being unable to find me anywhere, or reach me by phone. The sight of him sitting across from an officer was my breaking point, and I plunged into hysteria, launching myself into his arms. It took a good while before I was able to speak.
Since then, I've recounted the details of what happened over and over, and my throat is sore from all the talking, my mind slowly becoming numb. I shut down a little while ago, refusing to speak anymore, much to the chagrin of the Pender Falls Police Department.
Mason sits next to me, his jaw pulled tight. The cops soon learned I was unwilling to enter the interrogation room unless he could come with me, so they were willing to compromise. Since then, he's been alternating between staring at me for long periods of time, and avoiding a mere glance in my direction at all costs. He's heard me say the same thing so many times it must be burned into his brain.
When we finally get the go ahead to leave, I keep my eyes down, Mason's hand on the small of my back. Police have been dispatched to search for Zoe, but for now, her whereabouts are still unknown. And after Mason finally confessed what happened the first time she attacked, an investigation into Dylan and James was put forward as well.
The officers weren't happy about how long we've kept our silence, and they weren't exactly huge fans of our means of attaining the footage from the hospital, but there are more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.
We nearly make it out of the room when a voice calls out to me.
"Ms. Castillo," a woman says, standing from her desk, clutching a corded phone in her hand. "You have a call waiting. From your mother."
I glance at Mason, and he nods, his eyebrows furrowing. Walking over to the officer, I take the phone into my hands timidly, claiming the open seat she motions to next to her desk, and Mason hovers behind it. Swallowing, I place the phone to my ear, my fingers shaking.
"Hello?" I say.
"Allie," Sofia breathes, and I can hear the tears in her own voice. "Thank God you're alright!"
I don't know what to say, unsure of what the appropriate thing is to tell your mother after you've nearly died at the hands of who she thought was your best friend. Sofia seems to be speechless too, if her heavy silence is any indication. Her voice starts and stops several times, her words unfinished, and it's strange to witness her this way.
"Why didn't you tell me about any of this?" she asks, her voice incredulous and emotional. "I would've called the police, and transferred you to a new school, and—"
"It's complicated," I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut and breathing deeply. I used to believe she was deliberately playing a part in hiding the truth from me, and once Mason told me what really went down that night, it became painfully clear that the Hendriks family would do whatever they could to spin the truth in their favour.
"Are you... okay?" she asks.
Opening my eyes again, I stare at the tile floor, coated with a thin layer of dust, and I feel Mason's gaze burning a hole in the back of my head, knowing he must be able to hear her words through the phone. I consider lying, and telling her that I'm fine, that everything is alright, and this is something I'll be able to deal with, but I don't have it in me to lie anymore at the moment.
"No," I whisper, and I feel Mason's fingers give my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
Her promise reassures me slightly. I've been informed there will be officers stationed outside the house tonight in case Zoe decides to make an appearance, and knowing that makes me feel somewhat safer, though I'm still terrified.
"Okay," I say, my voice hushed, and she apologizes again, tells me she loves me, and then apologizes once more before we say our goodbyes, and I place the phone back in the receiver.
I stand up, wrapping my arms around my torso. The officer who's been asking me questions for the past couple hours—Ramirez, I overheard someone call him—approaches us, and I feel a mild twist of dread in my stomach, worried he's going to change his mind about allowing us to go home.
"You did a great job today, Alina," he tells me gently, his eyebrows pulled together in what appears to be genuine concern. "As I told you, we'll have two officers on patrol outside the house, but do you have anyone who could come over and stay with you?"
"Yes," Mason says from beside me, placing his hand on the small of my back once more, and I look at him in surprise, my eyes widening. "I'll be staying with her tonight."
"Great," Ramirez says, nodding. "Take care. We'll keep you updated if anything comes up."
Mason begins to guide me away, and I'm too shell-shocked to say anything more.
Shivering slightly, I follow Mason to his car, sliding into the passenger's seat gratefully, eager to get away. He gets into his side moments later, bringing the engine to life and pulling out of the parking lot, and I watch the way his jaw tightens and releases.
I purse my lips, not liking the dark expression on his face. "You don't have to stay over tonight," I tell him quietly, though the fact that he's offered makes me so relieved I could cry. Police officers watching my door is all well and good, but he's the one who makes me feel the safest.
He only spares me a brief glance. "Yeah, I do," he says firmly. "There's no chance in hell I'm leaving you alone again."
I turn my gaze to the dimly lit streets. It seems like he has his mind made up, and I won't spend time trying to sway him when I truly do want him to spend the night. Instead, I murmur a soft, "Thank you."
The remainder of the ride home is silent, but the atmosphere is tense. He pulls into the driveway of the house, and I spot a cop car parked a short distance away on the street. The sight of it gives me chills, reminding me once again that all of this is real, and Zoe is still out there somewhere. Trying not to think about it, I exit the car, stepping out onto the pavement, and Mason follows me, waiting while I unlock the door.
My heart begins to race as I fumble with the key, though it has less to do with what I experienced today and more to do with the fact that Mason and I are going to be the only ones in the house. Finally getting the door unlocked, I let us in, and we step over the threshold.
I act as though his presence doesn't affect me, leading the way into the kitchen, and he leans against the counter, a pensive expression on his face.
"Can I get you anything?" I ask after a moment, trying not to wince at how nervous I sound.
When his blue gaze focuses on me, my pulse becomes impossibly faster, and he simply watches me for a few beats, before shaking his head. "No, I'm alright." He pauses, and my face begins to feel hot from his scrutiny. "What do you want right now?"
You, a tiny voice whispers, and I'm quick to silence it.
Instead, I look down at my tattered clothes, and as if on cue, I notice the ache in my bones again. "I guess I should get cleaned up," I remark, looking back up to meet his eyes.
"Sure," he says, moving to take a seat at the island. "I'll just hang out here."
I nod meekly, before turning and making my way up the stairs to grab a change of clothes. Once I'm inside the bathroom, I stop short, catching sight of myself in the mirror. My face is streaked with blood, dirt, and slashes, looking ghastly, my eyes dull and rimmed with red.
As delicately as I can manage, I strip out of my clothes, starting the shower and stepping underneath the hot water. My arms and legs are coloured with several new bruises and cuts, and the sights of all my new injuries cause all of the horrible memories to resurface. I drench my hair under the water, pulling out pine needles when I run my fingers through it. I envision the burning water having healing properties, despite how much it stings the various gashes on my body. I imagine it washing away Zoe's touch, the kiss of her blade, the roughness of the ground beneath me.
But it doesn't stop me from reliving it all, sobs racking my frame as I try to be as quiet as possible.
When I return to the kitchen, Mason is still seated at the island, his arms folded over his chest, and he glances at me as I enter. Wordlessly, I take the seat next to him. He continues to gaze at me, and I give him a sidelong glance, narrowing my eyes. It takes me a moment, but I finally realize why he's so eager to stick around tonight to protect me. He feels guilty.
"Stop looking at me like that," I murmur, and his eyes change slightly, his eyebrows furrowing.
He pauses. "Like what?"
"Like this is your fault," I whisper, and he drops his gaze to the counter. "Mason, this is not your fault," I say firmly. "Don't you think that for one second."
His eyes flash to me again, his jaw tightening. "Of course it is," he tells me. "The only reason you went to Boulder Trail is because you thought I was going to be there. I should've been more careful. If I'd never have left you a note in the first place, she wouldn't know how to replicate it."
I can't help the scoff of disbelief that escapes. "Don't be ridiculous," I scold. "You didn't know she was watching us."
"I should've known," he reasons, looking away again, his voice low and quiet, and I hear the finality in his tone. He's not going to change his mind about this, at least not tonight. "I should've been smarter."
We fall back into a heavy silence, and my throat feels too thick with emotion to try to speak. I want to tell him over and over again that he's not guilty, that I don't blame him—that I could never blame him—but he's not ready to hear it.
"You should get some rest," he advises.
I raise an eyebrow. "So should you."
His lips curve upward in a rueful half smile, and he nods distantly. I know what happened today is going to haunt him, because it's going to haunt me as well, and we seem to have a habit of sharing our demons.
"I can set up camp on the couch again," he says, beginning to walk toward the hallway, but I reach out, latching onto his arm and surprising both of us. His eyes flicker to mine, lit up with curiosity, and I flush, pulling my hand back when I realize what I've done.
"Actually," I start, my heart rate picking up with nervousness. The idea of being by myself right now is harrowing, and the living room feels too far away when there are a number of dark rooms in between. "Maybe you could sleep in my room?" I suggest, trying not to cringe when I see the startled look in his expression. "I just—I don't want to be alone right now."
He considers my proposition, swallowing visibly. "Sure," he murmurs, and it only serves to kick start my heart again. "I'll meet you upstairs."
Feeling lost for words, I'm able to do little more than nod, feeling somewhat shaky again as I rise from my stool, leaving the kitchen. My eyes do a quick sweep of my bedroom when I arrive, trying to see if there's anything embarrassing laying about that needs to be tucked away, but it seems to be pretty clean, and I release a quick breath of relief. My heart continues to thump away in my chest, and I try to calm down, reminding myself that he's just going to keep me company, nothing else is going to happen.
I hear Mason's footsteps making their ascent up the stairs, and I hurriedly take a seat on the edge of my bed. He enters the room seconds later, and I glance in his direction, trying to read his face, though it remains guarded and indecipherable. It's only when he reaches up to drag a hand through his hair that I notice his fingers trembling slightly.
Knowing that he feels nervous too does nothing to relax me, and I watch as he closes the door, listening as it shuts with a quiet click, sealing us inside.
He seems to be avoiding my eyes again, though I can't seem to look at anything but him, and when he speaks, his voice is a little rougher than usual. "Should I grab some blankets for the floor?" he asks, though I can tell by the way he asks, he knows the answer to his question.
"You don't have to sleep on the floor," I tell him, forcing the warmth to leave my face as I say the words. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
He comes around to the other side of the bed, gently peeling the covers back, and taking a seat on the mattress. Summoning any amount of courage and peace of mind I can muster, I do the same, sliding beneath the comforter and trying to keep my breathing steady. The tension in the air is palpable, and I rest my head on the pillow at a snail's pace.
I can see him in my periphery, though I'm too scared to turn to look at him fully, scared of what I might do. Instead, I roll over onto my side, facing away from him, ignoring the dull twinge of pain that arises from the action. I feel him shuffle and adjust his position on his side of the bed, and all I can hear is my heart beating, the sound so loud and intrusive I feel like he must be able to hear it too. I feel the need to say something, to break up the thick atmosphere, but I don't know what.
"Goodnight," I decide on needlessly, trying to gauge how he's feeling at the moment.
"Goodnight," he returns, his voice giving nothing away.
Swallowing, I stare at the large shadows sprawling across my bedroom wall. All I can think about is him lying next to me, the best kind of distraction, and the most dangerous. Gathering up a handful of courage, I roll back over to face him slowly. His blue eyes are still wide open, gazing up at the ceiling, but they flicker to me after I've completely angled myself toward him. I watch the way they study me, taking in my every detail, and I admire the glow of the lights, leaving intricate patterns on his mouth, cheekbones, and jawline.
And then before I know what I'm doing, I'm raising my head from my pillow, lifting a finger to trace that jawline, pressing my lips against that mouth.
His response is instantaneous.
Fingers slide up into my hair, his lips eager to meld against mine, and my heart goes into overdrive as he shifts our position, pushing himself up as he kisses me back desperately, sending tremors of shock down my spine. Following his lead, I roll onto my back and he hovers over top of me, my hands finding their home as I pull his face impossibly closer, wanting there to be no space left between us.
His lips leave mine, but only for a second, enough time for my eyes to flutter open and catch a glimpse of his features once more before they're snapping shut as we move together again. I feel his hand on my waist, causing me to shiver, and it rests on the bare skin where my t-shirt has ridden up. I don't want it to stop; I want to stay wrapped in his embrace forever, shielded from the dangers of the outside world, surrounded by an overwhelming sense of euphoria that has my chest feeling both heavy and light at the same time.
But then it ends.
Almost like someone has latched onto his shoulder and yanked him away, his lips leave mine for good, and after a second, I dare myself to open my eyes. The boy still hovering above me gazes at me with sadness amongst the blue. He wears a pained expression, his eyebrows pulled together so tightly that I can't resist the urge to reach up to try to smooth it out with my fingers. He closes his eyes under my touch, breathing deeply, and I begin to frown, withdrawing my hand.
"What's the matter?" I ask, my voice breathy and still bewildered.
He's silent for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, before shaking his head. "This is wrong, Alina," he finally tells me, his voice rough with emotion, and my frown deepens.
"What?" I blink, unable to keep myself from feeling a sting of hurt. "Why is it wrong?"
He changes his position, releasing me from the cage of his arms and sitting upright instead. I follow suit, pushing myself upward until I'm sitting up too, looking at him in confusion. He sighs again, resting his head in his hands.
"We shouldn't get distracted," he murmurs. "There's too much going on right now."
I don't believe he intends the words to be hurtful, but I still flinch, the sting multiplying tenfold. "Is that all you think this is for me?"
"That's not what I meant," he tells me, shaking his head, dragging a hand over his face wearily.
An uncomfortable silence falls over us, making room for reality to settle on my shoulders as I come to a realization, my heart on the cusp of breaking. "Look, Mason," I start, and his eyes flicker to mine. I swallow, trying to keep up the courage to wear my heart on my sleeve, exposing it to the brutal truth. "I have feelings for you." The statement hangs in the air, and his eyes widen marginally. "So I'd appreciate it if you were honest with me. Don't give me any excuses, just tell me straight up that you don't feel the same, and then we can move on."
He's quiet, mulling over my words, and he looks away, taking great interest in the comforter spread out over the bed, running a hand over it. "I can't do that," he says finally.
My eyebrows furrow, and I shake my head in disbelief, starting to feel frustrated. "Why not?"
His gaze refocuses on me. "Because I'd be lying."
I hear the sound of my breath catch, my heart coming to an abrupt halt once more, and my mouth falls open in surprise. Given the way he just ended things, I wasn't anticipating that answer, and it only serves to make me more confused. "Then, why...?" I trail off, punctuating my sentence with another shake of the head.
"It's not the right time," he reiterates, his voice sad as he watches me, longing evident on his expression. "So much is happening—so much has happened—and you're emotionally vulnerable right now. I'm not going to take advantage of that."
I appreciate his words, feeling a surge of admiration, and while I understand his reasoning, it doesn't stop the crushing weight of disappointment from crashing down on my chest. Against my will, my face begins to crumple, my lip trembling, and he curses under his breath when he senses the impending breakdown, reaching out to cup my face with his hand, blue eyes filled with worry.
"Hey," he murmurs, thumb grazing over my cheek, "it's alright."
I sniffle, reaching up to swipe away the first tear that escapes, trying to think of a way to properly voice my thoughts. "I just wanted one thing," I confess, my voice barely above a broken whisper. "One good thing. I wanted you."
Mason gives me a rueful smile, wiping away another tear with the pad of his thumb, and I focus on his eyes. "You still have me," he assures me, his voice soft, and he removes his hand from my face to tuck a section of my nearly dry hair behind my ear. "You've had me for a while now. I'm very much yours. That's not going to change."
This knowledge causes my lips to curve upward gently, a fluttering sensation in my belly, and I nod, still tearful, but feeling a little better. After a little while, we settle back under the covers, and despite our conversation, I curl up next to him, my head on his chest, and he doesn't protest, wrapping his arms around me in a protective embrace.
"You know..." I begin quietly. "You're the only one who always calls me Alina. Why is that?"
"Hm." He runs his fingers down the length of my arm, thinking for a moment. "I suppose I wanted something that was mine," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my hair.
Warmth blooms in my chest, and for a moment, after I close my eyes, I pretend we're two ordinary people who have stumbled into some semblance of love, instead of two people too frightened to be alone, the threat of death looming over us like a creeping shadow, and the delusion stays with me until I drift into a sleep free of nightmares.