Please Understand

Chapter 12: Boys Will Be Boys

"Mason? Mason. Mason!" Amelia hissed as she lightly shook me.

I groaned and squinted at her in the dark. Her long hair was a tangled mess, and one side of her face looked melted. "What do you want?" I grunted as I tugged at my blanket. The smell of alcohol filled the room.

She hesitated, and wrung her hands as she shifted from foot to foot. "Can I stay the night? I promise I will leave before your parents wake up," she pleaded with the moon's light behind her.

I sat up, and realized I wasn't dreaming. Amelia actually climbed through my window in the middle of night. "What? No," I shot back as I ran my hand through my hair. We were too old for this.

"Mason, please," she whimpered in the most pathetic whine I had ever heard.

"Whatever!" I harshly grumbled.

She sighed in relief, but she was still hesitating. "Mason? Can you please walk me to the bathroom?" she whispered as her voice shook.

I swore at her, but threw off my blanket. I should've been more modest, but I was half asleep and wandering around in my boxers. I didn't even look at her as I shuffled down the hall, but I could feel her lightly tiptoe behind me. Luckily, both of my parents are heavy sleepers. I flipped the light on, let her walk into the bathroom, and then I gasped as she stepped into the light. I pushed my way in, shut the door, and locked it. "What happened?" I tenderly whispered as guilt rushed over me. Why did I have to be so mean to her?

She avoided my gaze even though I was staring at her, and she ran a black wash rag under the water. "I bumped my head. Don't make it a big deal," she whispered as she tried to force a smile on her face. I knew she was lying by the way she avoided my gaze.

I took the rag from her and started dabbing at the blood on her face, but I couldn't find where it was coming from. She guided my hand higher into her hair line, and gently pressed down, so I held it there. "Amelia, what did you hit your head on?" I asked in a low whisper.

She winced, so I took a little pressure off her wound. "A doorknob," she muttered as she squeezed her eyes shut.

I noticed the sleeve of her over sized shirt was ripped, and then realized it was my Avenged Sevenfold shirt that she borrowed. Her wrists were bright red, like she struggled to get away from someone. Instead of asking more questions, I dug through the drawer in front of us, searching for bandages. Mom has some, I knew it because she always worried about my football injuries.

"I don't think I need that. It's done bleeding," she whispered, sounding like a child.

I pretended I didn't hear her as I sloppily wrapped the gauze around her head and she inhaled sharply. I glanced at us in the mirror, and felt my face heat up. Here she was in yoga pants, and one of my shirts while I was only wearing boxers. How inappropriate. Mom would freak if she saw us. "Come on, you probably should lay down," I grumbled as I threw the rag in the sink, and led her back to my room. I wouldn't touch her because I didn't want to hurt her more.

She awkwardly stood beside my bed as I moved the comforter. "I...I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel better," she murmured in her shaking voice.

"You're not sleeping on the floor. Do you want a different shirt?" I asked as I wandered over to my dresser.

"Yes, please," she answered, and the bed creaked as she sat on the edge.

I threw the first shirt I found at her, and then I crawled under the comforter. My eyes were heavy, and I just wanted to forget about what I saw that night, but I kept my eyes open.