I let him completely slip from my mind. No more thinking about Henry. I almost felt a relief to this, including my mother and Mason.
I thought he was something that he ended up not being.
How could I have put so much trust into him? I was stupid enough to crawl into the silo; I entered his trap. A year past, and I seemed to mature within those months. My sixteenth birthday came and went without Henry. Only Mason.
Wasn't it always supposed to be Mason?
A childhood friend that was the real dependable one. Someone who was willing to stick by my side from the very beginning. Why did I ever think Henry was more to me than him? Stupid, stupid girl.
My mom grew softer and not as strict with the knowledge that I've stopped seeing Henry. The only thing that ever made me think of him were the three long scratches across the inner side of my forearm. They lingered on my skin, marks turned white as snow as they scarred. White as the moonlight that casted across Henry's own ghostly skin.
I could still picture that threatening glint in his dark eyes before I left him for good. He turned to such a beast at that moment. A thing that I used to know as a friend, went feral within seconds. He's unstable. Henry really could take a life, like a wild animal preying on the weak.
I didn't dare ever let him crawl back into my mind with the thought of going to the silo. As much as I would dread to admit, I've grown scared of him.
Mason was unwavering to loyalty. His feelings never shook or fumbled. A gentle arm always wrapped around my shoulders. A place to lean against that was warm and comforting. I returned the same feeling because that's what he deserved.
It was always supposed to be Mason.
X X X
Millie would sleep soundless nights. Her dreams were filled with happy thoughts of her surrounded by friends and family. He wasn't in her head anymore. Henry was merely a lost memory. She wouldn't know a thing about him after that day she walked away.
Henry could not eat and could not sleep, for he wasn't even alive. Though, he's grown a hunger. Not one for food, and not a thirst for something to drink, but a craving for something else.
Not only could he not eat or sleep, but Henry was unable to feel. Instead of a living human with a heart, he was just a thing filled with coldness. Emotions were no longer relevant in his 'awakeness'.
But Henry didn't want to be 'awake' anymore. Something began to sprout in his being. A prickling and pinching in his chest, where a lost heart was. Henry was crushed with a feeling of tiredness like an angry wave reaching out on the shore. For the first time in over a hundred years, Henry laid down and closed his eyes.
Before sinking off into an unconscious state, something warm and wet crawled across his cheek, but quickly cooled against his milky skin. It left a streak of damp coldness.
Henry's hand lightly brushed away the drop just as two more slipped down his face and over the bridge of his nose. He drew in a rigid breath, squeezing shut his eyelids.
