Lexi
The friends we have as children shape us. Some of them we keep forever, some of them we lose along the way... but all of them leave something behind... or in his case, take something as they leave.
Mason Jennings held my heart in his hands at...
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I spent all night tossing and turning, replaying the morning before in my head.
I was trying to remember catching glimpses of smirks on Mason's face as he watched me crumble. Trying to find all the signs I missed that I was being taken for a fool.
I fell further down the rabbit hole than Alice could in her dizziest daydream as I began adding words that were never a part of the conversation to make the whole thing make sense.
But I just couldn't get the math to add up.
Everything he said to me is a stuck record in my ears - his apology, him asking permission to hold me because he's realised I could be jumpy, the blanket he brought me and the part that stings most being the way he acting so sincere about my Mom, complimenting her and consoling me as I longed for her.
All of it was him pulling the wall over my eyes, showing me just enough of the heart that mine used to beat for - all for him to rip it away with 3 cowardly text messages that I bet he was sickeningly proud of.
The girls know something's up after I bailed on movie day and holed myself up in my bed, not returning to civilisation until this moment.
Because this is the moment when I make my choice.
I decide here and now that Mason Jennings is officially a ghost to me. So when people get curious about the girl who has his unwanted attention and ask me questions, I have simple replies to give.
So why does he hate you? - Who would hate me? I'm a hoot.
Are you guys, like fuckbuddies? - Excuse me whose whore are you accusing me of being?
What's the deal with you and Mason? - Sorry I don't know anyone with that god awful name. Poor fella, his parents must have been real jerks to name their kid that.
The fact that his parents are actually jerks is pretty fitting. I wonder if they'd be proud to know their son turned out to be just as vile as them.
The truth about bullies like Mason is they crave attention. They aren't interesting or likeable enough to get it on their own so they make spectacles of others to make their presence known. Who cares if they're hated or feared? They have people's curiosity about where they'll strike next and it fuels their otherwise empty existence. If they focus on other people's mistakes and flaws, they don't have enough time to tumble into their own pit of self-hatred and doubt. They need the power as much as they need oxygen to breath and it's just so much easier to announce the ugly in others with a thick layer of fake beauty covering their own.
And so to beat Mason, all I have to do is what I wanted to in the first place - ignore his brown hair and hazel eyes were every a part of my life. I'll starve him of the dominance he demands because he believes I stole his control from him all those years ago.
I'll play his game better than him and leave him as the one sobbing down by the river - except they'll be no one offering to hold him. Why? Because the only person who had a hope of understanding him gave up on salvaging his soul the moment he sent those texts.
