I WAKE TO the sound of Mason's voice.
He's sitting next to me, leaning against the headboard of the bed, his phone pressed to his ear, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and he glances at me when he notices I'm awake. Processing the situation, I slowly sit up, frowning as I try to figure out who he's speaking to.
He looks away from my scrutiny, murmuring his assent to the person on the other end of the line, and I wait for him to finish the call and enlighten me.
"Thank you for letting me know," he says, his tone hushed and weary, and for some reason my heart begins to sink. His gaze flickers to me. "I'll pass along the information."
After ending the call, he sets the phone down, sighing heavily and dragging his hands over his face. He remains that way for a while, and I begin to feel restless, wondering what else could have possibly gone wrong overnight. Finally, he pulls his hands away, studying my features with a solemn expression.
"You're scaring me," I hum quietly, resisting the urge to fidget with my fingers.
He raises his eyebrows. "That was Officer Ramirez. Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?"
"Good news," I conclude, feeling a flare of nerves, and his expression doesn't change.
"Okay," he says, before pausing. "Dr. Meyer has been taken into custody. They cornered him last night when he tried to cross the border. Apparently, he confessed to everything."
My eyes widen at the unexpected words, though I feel a surge of excitement at the thought of the twisted doctor getting thrown behind bars, especially after learning he was trying to flee. "Holy shit," I breathe. "What's the bad news?"
His jaw tightens reflexively, and his fingers twitch, almost looking as though he feels the need to throw something. Pursing my lips together, I reach out, placing my hand over one of his and giving it a squeeze. He intertwines our fingers with a sigh, eyes flickering to mine again.
"You're not going to like this," he warns.
"That's why it's called bad news," I reply.
He hauls in a big breath, releasing the words on his next exhale, "There's no sign of Zoe, Dylan, or James anywhere."
I feel myself freeze, my body going rigid and my heart stopping, the words striking me in the chest. I pull my hand away from Mason's to place it over my mouth, every part of me sinking lower and lower without ceasing. In hindsight, I suppose it was naive of me to think that going to the police would solve everything, that it would all be over after what happened yesterday.
Lips trembling, I look away from Mason's sympathetic gaze, and for the first time in a long time, I actually want to be alone, my arms wrapping around my torso. I want there to be no witnesses if I feel the need to scream and sob and break things. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mason tentatively reach out to touch my arm, but I shift away, not wanting to be touched at the moment, just needing to breathe.
He withdraws his hand, bringing it back to his side, his eyes cast downward. "I'm sorry, Alina," he murmurs. "They'll find them eventually."
I let out a warbled laugh, shaking my head. Eventually is not good enough. This needs to end now, or I'm going to completely lose my mind. I won't be satisfied until I see their faces on the other side of a prison cell.
My sadness begins to dissipate, freezing over until it becomes cold, hard fury. Even when they're backed into a corner, they refuse to give up and accept defeat, to finally put this all to rest and leave me be. Haven't they done enough damage? I'm broken because of them, and the physical and psychological trauma will never go away. Isn't that enough?
Mason pulls me in, tucking me to his chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut, clinging to him as if he's my only chance at survival.
✘✘✘
After several days of staying at home, I decide to make my return to school.
It feels ridiculous to be a sitting duck in my house while the police are busy searching for the three people who tried to kill me, and there's nothing to distract me when I'm trapped within the walls of my bedroom, nothing to keep me from tearing all my hair out. I need the routine and monotony of going to class to keep my mind occupied, despite Sofia's protests.
She insisted on giving me a ride to a school, but I protested, saying Mason could drive me instead, and he immediately agreed. I've unintentionally been shutting him out since last week, but it's not anything personal. I'm just finding it hard to talk to other people. Audrey returned from Vancouver as soon as she heard about what happened, claiming she won't be going back until all of this is resolved. It seems things like boyfriends and cheating are of little concern, when the alternative is a matter of life or death. She's been keeping me company, and I appreciate it, even if I'm not really speaking much at the moment.
Standing just outside of the front door, I wait for Mason to pick me up for school. I don't feel nervous about going back, despite the fact that word of what happened will have spread through the population like wildfire, and I'll be the center of attention once again. I'm used to it by now. At least everyone knows the truth. I suppose that's the silver lining to all of this—there are no more secrets.
The ride to school is spent in silence, and I hate myself for it. I wish I could talk to Mason like normal, and we could go back to how we were a few days ago, but I just don't have the mental energy for it, and that knowledge makes me feel as though my heart is cracking in two.
When we arrive, Mason walks close enough to me that our arms brush. Pursing my lips together, I reach for his hand, taking it into my own. Words may have lost their usefulness for me at the moment, but actions speak louder anyway. He gives me a grateful smile, squeezing my hand as we make our way to the entrance, and the abnormality of the situation strikes me all at once. I've spent the last little while having to pretend Mason doesn't exist to me within these corridors, so it feels strange to be able to walk in with him so freely, and not worry about what other people think.
I only let go when we reach the English classroom, and we slide into our seats. As class begins, I'm unable to stop staring at Zoe's vacant seat, the girl stuck in my head as images of her flood through my mind like a twisted slide show. I see her laughing, her red-stained lips curling up into the sadistic smirk she constantly wears. I see her blue eyes wild and thirsty for blood, the glint of a blade reflecting off her teeth, her manicured hand circling around my throat.
Exhaling sharply, I push back, my chair scraping against the floor, and all eyes flicker in my direction. I swallow, looking up to acknowledge the scrutiny, and Mason has gone tense beside me, poising to get up from his seat if given the command. I try to speak, to apologize to Mr. Warren for disrupting his class, but my throat has closed up, my eyes unable to make sense of whether I'm in the dark forest or in the classroom.
"I'm sorry," is all I manage, before darting out of the room, my chest rising and falling.
No one calls for me to stay. Making my way through the empty hallways, I go straight to the girls' room, unsure if I need to sob or throw up. Maybe both.
Pushing the door open abruptly, I head to the sink, resting my hands on the cool counter and letting my head hang forward as I squeeze my eyes shut. An overwhelming feeling of nausea has taken over my senses, and I will it to pass, deeming it very unfair that Zoe still gets to haunt me, even when she's not around to do it in person. Bringing my head up, I look in the mirror, studying my reflection again, and for a second, I see someone standing behind me, a beautiful girl with immaculate blonde locks and a devilish grin.
Gasping, I whirl around, but there's no one there.
The bathroom door bursts open, causing me to look up, my eyes wide. Mason enters timidly, causing my eyes to widen further. His dark eyebrows are pulled together, the way they always seem to be these days, the blue in his eyes clouded over as he steps inside the room, looking uncomfortable. He's obviously not allowed to be in here, but since class has just started, it's unlikely that we'll have any guests for a while.
He lets the door fall closed behind him, keeping his eyes riveted to me, and I know he's trying to tell if I've been crying, but he doesn't need to worry. I'm not anywhere close to tears.
"Hey," he greets quietly. "Everything alright?"
"Never better."
Glancing around nervously, he takes a few steps further into the room, stopping in front of me and running a hand through his hair. It takes him a moment or two of peering back at the door, but he seems to relax. His eyes dart back to mine, lips pressed together firmly, and I begin to feel my pulse quicken in my throat.
"You wanna tell me what's going on?" he prompts gently, raising his eyebrows.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I maintain his gaze. "There's nothing to tell," I remark.
"Alina," he scolds, frowning, concern written all over his expression.
I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to disappear into the floor. "Everyone needs to stop looking at me like that. I'm getting sick of it."
He pauses, a heavy silence washing over us, and I allow my eyes to flutter open again, seeing he's folded his own arms over his chest tightly. "Okay," he says slowly. "How do you want me to look at you?"
Chewing on the inside of my lip, I watch him, trying to think of the last thing that made me happy, the last thing that made me feel good. Pushing off the counter, I reach forward, grabbing hold of his face and pulling him toward me. A startled word begins to fall from his lips, though I don't let him finish it, closing the gap between us and swallowing whatever he was about to say. I feel wild, and uncontrollable, and dangerous, but he doesn't stop me. Instead, he takes a step forward, causing me to take a step backward, my back hitting the sink. He places his hands on my hips, allowing me little room to move, and the all too familiar sense of hysteria comes creeping in, making my head spin.
I never thought I'd be making out with Mason Byrne in the girls' room, and yet here we are.
It seems as though the thought suddenly crosses his mind too, as he emits a sound of annoyance, pulling away. I try to bring him back to me, capturing his lips again to stop him from giving me a lecture, but his hands glide from my waist to my shoulders, forcing us a short distance apart. Though I want to look away, I stare into his eyes, painfully aware of the hurt look within them, and it's then that I fully admit to myself that I've just done something stupid.
"This is exactly why I said we shouldn't do this now," he says, his voice rough, and I grit my teeth, dropping my eyes. "You're not in a good place, and I don't want to just be your distraction."
The suffocating stillness returns, and he removes his hands from my shoulders, letting them hang at his sides. I look back at him, feeling both stubborn. "What if I'm never in a good place?"
His eyebrows knit together at the words, and he shakes his head. "I care about you, Alina," he tells me, tone considerably softer and lower than before, "and I plan on sticking around as long as you'll let me. But we shouldn't be together in this capacity until we're both ready, otherwise someone is going to get hurt."
"Someone already got hurt," I counter in a mumble, but I don't know which one of us I'm referring to.
The remainder of the day goes by painfully slowly, and Mason keeps his distance, though it doesn't stop him looking at me for prolonged periods of time whenever we're in the same room together. I do my best to focus on my schoolwork, needing a proper distraction that doesn't involve anyone else.
When the final bell rings, I leave the classroom with a sigh, heading back to my locker to deposit my books. Mr. Warren offered to help me catch up on my schoolwork, and I took him up on it. Even though I doubt it will help much, it's nice to be away from my house as long as possible. After making the trade, I close the door.
I only make it a few steps before Mason materializes in front of me, still wearing the same pensive expression, and I'm beginning to think his features are stuck that way. He leans against the row of lockers, fixating his gaze on me, and I maintain eye contact, too weary to look away.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home?" he questions, lifting his brows slightly.
I allow my lips to curl up in a soft smile as I nod, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. "I don't want to go home anyway."
His expression softens, his cold eyes losing some of their edge, prompting a small tugging sensation on my heartstrings. "I wouldn't have to take you home," he counters. "We could go somewhere else."
My smile spreads a little, and I don't even have to force it this time. "I really should stay and get some work done," I persist, noting the flicker of disappointment on his face.
Regardless, he sighs in defeat, nodding his own head. "Okay," he says, conceding. "If you're sure."
We part ways, and I leave him with a heavy feeling in my chest.
In the English room, Mr. Warren helps me with all the subjects he's knowledgeable on, and I'm surprised to find that it actually does help to distract me. It also makes me realize just how much I've fallen behind. But it's kind of hard to concentrate on school when your life is in danger.
The hours creep by, and the sun sets early, typical for an autumn night. Once Mr. Warren glances out the classroom window, he blinks, looking at the clock on the wall.
"I think that's enough for today," he announces, glancing at me. "We should head home now."
I feel a sense of panic, not ready to go home and face my family just yet. "I'm nearly done with this assignment," I reason, pointing to my work. "Do you mind if I stay until I finish it?"
He purses his lips, considering, before looking at the clock again. "Tell you what," he says. "I'm going to run uptown and pick up something for dinner. When I come back, that's it. No more working today. Does that sound good?"
I nod gratefully, feeling relieved. "Sure."
I remain in the classroom after he leaves, continuing to work diligently. I allow myself to become so engrossed in my work that the minutes slip by without notice. It takes longer than it should for me to realize Mr. Warren should've come back by now.
Setting down my pen, I glance at the window. The sky is pitch black now, and an uneasy feeling creeps into my chest. I have the distinct urge to leave. Standing from the desk, I pack up my things, tucking them into my backpack, before slinging it over my shoulders.
The hallways are dark when I step into them, and I feel a sense of dread low in my belly. I hurry toward the entrance, only to find that the doors are locked. My eyebrows furrow, my breathing quickening, as I continue to try, pulling with all my might, but it's no use.
"What the fuck?" I whisper, feeling my pulse in my throat.
Feeling desperation creep into my chest, I scurry through the school, attempting to open other doors but to no avail. Instinctively, I pat my pocket for my cell phone, before remembering I still haven't purchased a new one since the old one became obsolete.
I hear a sound distantly, and it causes my heart rate to kick up, sounding out of place in the distinct silence. When I see a dark figure passing by a different hallway, somehow I just know they're someone else that's not supposed to be here.
I quicken my pace, holding my breath in an attempt to be quiet, feeling like my presence has to remain undetected, and I keep glancing over my shoulder, as if someone is following me. My fingers tremble, and I feel like I'm on the verge of another panic attack. My mind jumps back to earlier in the day, when I thought I saw Zoe behind me in the mirror, and I wonder if I'm hallucinating right now, too.
Until I round a corner, and realize this is all too real.
The sight of the boy in front of me causes me to stop short, my footsteps nearly falling over each other, and he looks so out of place and wrong, even though just a week ago, he roamed these hallways as if he owned them.
Dylan stands several feet away, a tortured expression on his face, and my heart nosedives into the pits of my stomach. He looks at me, betrayal evident in his shiny, brown eyes, and I still fervently hope this is all a figment of my imagination.
"Why did you do it?" he asks in a low voice, thick with emotion.
"Get the hell away from me, Dylan," I choke out, holding up a hand to stop him in case he tries to approach me. "I'm serious."
He doesn't reply, and I take a rigid step backward, deciding to just make a break for it. I turn on my heel, before stopping short once again to keep myself from ramming into a solid chest.
James beams down at me, a glint in his eye, and I swallow, my head spinning. The air is thick, and I feel like I can't breathe. "Hey, doll," he greets, grin unwavering, sending chills down my spine. "I've missed you."
I feel like a wild animal being herded, a deer in the headlights, and I take a slow step away from him, glancing over my shoulder at Dylan, but he avoids my eyes now. I continue to back away from the both of them, but neither of them budge, and somehow it's more frightening than if they were to rush at me. It's like they're just serving as roadblocks, or chilling statues.
Whatever the reason, I don't want to know. I just need to get out of here.
My heart pounds in my chest as I continue to put distance between us, and I know it can't be this easy to just get away from them. They've been in hiding all this time, and they're not going to throw away a chance to have me cornered.
I'm proved to be right seconds later, when I hear Zoe's smooth voice behind me, effectively stopping my pulse.
"Payback's a bitch," she remarks, and the last thing I remember is a horrible thudding sound as something collides with my head, and I drop to the ground, blackness flooding my mind.