Submerge

J A C O B ?

M A S O N

The next morning, Mason awoke to a harsh reality that felt like a merciless slap in the face. The once-vibrant colors of the basement had been replaced by the unforgiving light of day, casting a stark and unforgiving glare on his surroundings.

As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he took in the chaotic aftermath of the previous night. The room that had been a haven of camaraderie now resembled a battleground of debauchery. Empty bottles and discarded cans littered the floor, and the air hung heavy with the acrid smell of smoke and stale alcohol.

Mason's head throbbed mercilessly, and his mouth felt as dry as a desert. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he realized that he was still dressed in the same clothes from the night before. His memory of the events that had transpired was fragmented, a disjointed jigsaw puzzle of blurred faces and distorted conversations.

Struggling to sit up, Mason surveyed the room. Some of the partygoers from the night before were still scattered around, slumbering amidst the chaos. Others had already left, their hasty departures evident in the abandoned belongings and empty chairs.

Marco, the enigmatic figure who had introduced Mason to this world, was nowhere to be seen. His absence left an unsettling void, a lingering question of whether Mason had been abandoned in this disheveled state.

The sense of disconnection that had begun to creep in the night before now enveloped Mason like a suffocating shroud. He had willingly entered this world, seeking an escape, but now he was confronted with the harsh reality of his choices.

Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself to his feet, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. The room seemed to spin as he attempted to piece together the fragments of his memory. What had he done? What had he said? And what had happened to the person he had been before he walked down those basement stairs?

Making his way through the debris, Mason stumbled toward the exit, his head still throbbing and his stomach churning. He needed fresh air, sunlight, anything to break free from the suffocating grip of this nightmarish hangover.

As he reached the door, a voice halted his progress. "Hey, man," it said, and Mason turned to find a guy in his early twenties standing there. The guy had a friendly smile and an air of casual confidence.

Mason blinked, his thoughts still muddled. "Who... who are you?"

The guy extended his hand. "Jacob. I'm a friend of Marco's. You were at the party last night, right?"

Mason shook his head, the memories beginning to resurface. "Yeah, I was."

Jacob's smile remained warm. "Rough morning?"

Mason let out a bitter chuckle. "You could say that."

"Well, listen, I'm heading out, and I can give you a lift if you need one. It's the least I can do after Marco's 'stray cat' introduction."

Mason hesitated for a moment before nodding in gratitude. "Yeah, that would be great, thanks."

As they walked out of the house and toward a sleek sports car parked by the curb, Jacob glanced at Mason. "So, what brings you to Marco's little shindig?"

Mason looked away, a pang of regret gnawing at him. "I... I don't really know. Just trying to escape, I guess."

Jacob nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I get it, man. We all have our reasons for being here."

As they got into the car, Mason couldn't shake the feeling that Jacob understood more than he was letting on. The drive was silent for a while, the weight of the previous night's choices hanging heavily in the air.