Someone Willing to Stay

People in Florida are Assholes

     Mason is the only boy I've ever had in my room besides Adam. We had countless sleepovers when we were younger, so many pillow fights and wrestling matches.

A smile dances across my lips as I think about the old times.

"Wow, you changed it up, huh?"

I know what he's talking about.

He's talking about everything that's missing. The pictures of my dad and I at the fair. The ones of Steven and I sticking our tongues out at the camera. And the ones of Mason and I at Halloween dressed like Cinderella and Prince Charming.

Everything is buried in a cardboard box at the back of my closet.

The reminders were too painful.

Mason walks around my room. He traces his hands over my dresser, which holds nothing but a hairbrush and a first aid kit I disguised as a jewelry box.

"It's so bland," He chuckles, "it's like you moved and never unpacked."

"Okay." I don't know what to say.

I don't like having him in here. This isn't our space anymore.

He walks over to my bed and sits down.

"So Riley and Claire? They told you about the party?"

"They're my best friends," I see him frown for a split second, but his smirk is back so quickly that I'm not sure if it was real, "they just wanted me to get out of the house."

"Well, good." He says.

It's strange not being able to talk to him. When we were kids, we would chat for hours about anything and everything. Now, I'm scared to even ask how he's been.

I realize that I'm still standing in the doorway awkwardly and walk over to the chair I move in front of my desk and sit down.

The air is thick with unanswered questions.

"Just ask, come on Mel. I know you want to," Mason suddenly urges.

His eyes are searching mine.

"Why- why did you come back?"

I need to know. Was he thinking about me all these years? Or maybe he really did forget and all of this time I've spent hoping that he would come back and save me was just me being pathetic.

He smiles, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, "I got expelled from four different schools in the past year. Dad shipped me back home to finish high school."

"Four different schools? How did you manage that?"

"People in Florida, contrary to popular belief," he pauses, "are assholes."

We both start laughing. It feels good. It feels good to hear his laugh after so long.

Most people would have moved on by now. He was just some boy I hung out with when I was a kid. But I don't understand how anyone could ever forget Mason Foster.

When the laughter dies down, I look at him. "Why did you stay away for so long?"

It comes out as a whisper. I'm scared to ask. I know the answer. Adam has told me everyday since the night the van took him away. He was tired of me. He was finally rid of the burden he carried on his shoulders every day for eight years.

At first, all Mason does is avoid my eyes, which makes my stomach twist into a knot.

Seconds later he sighs. "I just wanted to make up for lost time with him, Mel."

I know he's lying. I'm good at sensing that kind of thing. When Adam says he's not mad, I know he is. When he says he isn't going to hurt me, I always shield my face.

"Okay." I say, letting the subject drop.

He's staring at me, I can practically feel his eyes straining from how hard he's observing me. I see his eyes flick down at my legs and then back up.
"That's a nasty bruise."

"I fell." My response is too fast. Normally I'm a pro at covering up Adam's art. But not with Mason. I never could lie to Mason.

I always tell myself it isn't a big deal when someone sees. Until they do and I become terrified.

"Off of what? A skyscraper?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"The stairs. I was rushing and I lost my footing."

The stairs part is true. I was rushing. I was trying to get out of the house before Adam woke up. It didn't go as planned.

"That seems like a weird place to get a bruise." He comments.

"Can you just drop it?" I am surprised at myself because I don't snap at people.

I've learned that back talking results in pain. So I don't know why I suddenly had the courage to yell at Mason.
"Sorry." He says.

"No, I'm sorry," I mumble, playing with the end of my dress, "I didn't mean to snap."

"Talk to me, Mel, slay any monsters while I was away?" He changes the subject swiftly.

That was our favorite game. He was the monster slayer and I was the damsel in distress. I liked it because I pretended he was practicing until he could finally face Adam. Adam was my true monster. But Mason left before I could ask him for help.

"That was always your job."

"Are we gender stereotyping now," he teases, "Maybe I wanted to be the princess who needs saving."

I laugh. "We both know you couldn't have pulled off that dress nearly as well as I did."

He rolls his eyes. "I would have looked way better."

"Whatever you say, Princess."

He gasps, "Did you just assume my gender?"

Mason stands up and walks toward me. I try to remember who he is. The Mason who belly flopped every time he tried to dive into his pool. The Mason who named every butterfly at the park. My Mason.

But when his hands reach toward me I see Adam's pale fingers ready to wrap around my throat.

My hands immediately go up to shield my face and I try to roll off of the chair.

I need to get away.

"Mel, woah," I can hear Mason's voice, "what's wrong?"

He's not Adam. He won't hit me. He doesn't want to hurt me.

He just wants to get away from you.

I look at him, scrambling to my feet.

"I'm fine, you just scared me." My breath is coming out in short pants.

"Did you think I was gonna hit you?"

"What-"

"Mel, has someone hit you?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then why-"

"Hey, is everything okay in here?" Adam's voice makes me stop cold.

"Everything's fine."

Adam is going to kill me. No one has ever been suspicious. I've never had to deal with anything like this before.

"You sure?" Adam asks me pointedly.

"Yeah. Mason was just ready to go back downstairs."

Mason looks like he wants to object but I shoot him a pleading look.

He nods and gives a small wave without saying anything before he walks out of the room, shoulder checking Adam on his way out.

The last thing I see when I turn around is Adam's fist flying toward my face.