Shattered

Deja Vu

Mason opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a bright room on a hospital bed. His mother sat asleep on a chair on the other side of the room. "M-mom?" Her head quickly jerked up, and she wasted no time getting to the other side of the room. "What's going on?" Mason asked. "Shh, it's okay. You were in an accident," his mother whispered, kissing his forehead. "Where's Liam?" Mason asked. "Who's Liam?" his mother asked, confused. Mason paused, puzzled. "Liam, my brother." "Mason... you don't have a brother. You never did." Mason looked at his mother confused. "What? Of course, I do. His name is Liam," Mason argued.

At that moment the doctor pushed into the room with a clipboard in hand. "What's going on?" Mason asked. "Ah, good to see you are awake. Ma'am, can we speak in the hallway?" the doctor asked. She nodded and they disappeared into the hallway, but Mason could still hear them. "He's suffered severe damage to his brain. It's treatable, but he may have symptoms. Uh, memory loss or damage, hallucinations, stuff like that. He'll require special pills to be prescribed." He could hear his mother break into tears, and suddenly all his memories came flooding back to him. The house, the horrors, Liam's lifeless body on the road. "I know you were real, I know it," Mason whispered to himself.  

...

After the summer of 1999...

Mason shifted his book bag over to his other shoulder and hung his head low as he slowly walked down the hallway of his high school. Everyone in the hallways would come to an eerie silence as he approached. Well, mostly. He could still hear the whispers, the people talking behind his back. By the time he had reached his locker, he could see the people next to it quickly step back, away from him. He reached out to open the locker door, but then he looked up, and he stopped. 

His locker had been a bright blue, like everyone else's. But now, it was red. Or at least, parts of it were. In red spray paint the word freak was stained in bold letters with a thin outline of yellow paint. But by now he was used to it, and he opened the locker and rummaged inside for his books. Once he had grabbed his things, he closed the locker and started down the hallway toward his next class. By the time he had arrived and walked inside, the room fell silent as he approached his desk. "Is that the kid that got hit by a car?" the new kid asked. "I hear he hears things that aren't there. What a freak," another whispered. Mason tried his best to ignore the people talking about him and continued to get his things ready as the other students moved seats away from him.

It seemed like hours before the bell finally rang, and he began to stand up when someone shoved him back down into his chair. He ignored the student and stood back up, walking over to the door to leave. "Mason, can I have a word with you?" Mason sighed and spun around toward his teacher at her desk. "I understand how it's been lately, but you can't let them get to you," she said. "I'm not." Mason quickly turned and walked into the hallway, ignoring the teacher and heading toward his locker. Once he had arrived, he opened it but didn't look inside. Instead, there was a tug on his book bag, followed by a jerk. He flew backwards and onto the floor as several students towered over him. A couple of juniors and a senior. "Hey freak," the senior growled, grabbing Mason's book bag strap and slinging him to his feet.

The senior turned and pinned Mason against the wall, followed by the words Get him, Billy. One of the juniors clenched his fist and jammed it straight into Mason's stomach, and the senior released Mason, dropping him to his feet. As the three prepared themselves, Mason did nothing. He didn't fight back, because he knew it was coming. It was the third, or fourth time this week that this had happened. Instead, he accepted it. No fighting back, no effort. 

...

Mason stared out of the car window as the world passed by, watching the trees and sky slowly change. "Are you alright?" his mother asked from behind the steering wheel. Mason chose not to answer. Instead, he stayed silent as the road flew by. Soon, their old house appeared in the distance. The one where it happened. The one where his life was ruined. It wasn't long after the incident before his mother had decided they needed to move. Mason watched as the house moved nearer and nearer.