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ANYA

I STARE AT THE EMPTY duffle bag in front of me.

Zayden left. I’ve been calling him over and over, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk to me right now. To anyone, most likely. The tears on my cheeks have dried, and my skin feels hot and clammy as I pile clothes into my bag.

I was so angry, so helplessly sad, so overwhelmingly shocked that my head was spinning. Now, I feel a strange sort of numbness settled in my bones, driving me on autopilot as I pack my things and embark on a journey I’m sure I’ll never forget. The entire situation is fucked up, and I just want to be sick, but there’s no food in my stomach to come up, so I’m left with this awful churning sensation that makes me want to curl into a ball and cry, but I’m not sure whether there are any tears left in my body.

I’m so disturbed that the man I call my stepfather is capable of hurt like that. That my brother endured it alone. That my own mother, the woman I love and cherish with my whole heart, turned her back on her son and then never did anything about it. I’m horrified at the entire situation, and I don’t know what to think. I’m disappointed in myself for not understanding anything, for being too naive and self-absorbed for any of this to register. My brother has always been incredible at protecting me from the harsh realities of life, but I never knew he was this good at it.

Swinging my bag onto my shoulder, I sweep my eyes around my room, checking to see if I’ve forgotten anything. A feeling of emptiness echoes inside my body as I open the door and trudge down the stairs, my limbs as heavy as lead.

I feel his presence before I see him. Turning, I look at Mason’s face. He stares at me for a moment before opening his arms. I practically fall into him, burying my head in his chest. He holds me for a long moment, and the weight of the world doesn’t feel too unbearable in his enfold.

‘I’m not going to ask if you knew,’ I whisper, sniffling as I step back. ‘He tells you everything.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he breathes, tracing his thumb down the curve of my cheek.

‘I feel awful. Sick to my fucking stomach. I don’t know if he will ever forgive me for not being there for him,’ I whisper.

‘Hey,’ Mason says sharply, shaking his head and bringing both hands up to caress each side of my face. ‘Don’t you ever blame yourself. You will not feel guilty about this.’

There is so much on my mind, so many things I want to say, but nothing comes up. I try to get words out, but a sob leaves my lips and my throat clogs with emotion as I bury my face into my hands. Mason secures his arms around me once more, rubbing his warm palm down my back. After a few minutes, I finally get myself under control, choking on my breath as the trembling and crying eventually subsides.

‘I’m coming with you.’

I nod, the relief welling inside me almost palpable. ‘Thank you. I couldn’t do this alone, and the only person I want to be around right now is you.’

He presses a kiss to the freckles on my left cheek, then to the ones on my right, and his forehead stays against mine for a heartbeat of a moment.

‘ Always .’

It’s been a long day. I feel utterly drained. I wish I could transport back to the moment in the pool when Mason and I both agreed that we’re together, and he kissed me with a fiery passion that under normal circumstances, would have me kicking my feet with giddy happiness. But instead, the day has gone on and on and on .

I hate that wherever Zayden is, he’s alone. Or maybe he isn’t alone, but he doesn’t have either of us there. Letting Mason come with me was another selfish choice, another way for me to prove I’m not there for my brother like he is for me. My mind is going in circles, and I just can’t think about any of this anymore. My head hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my heart. We’ve been driving for hours, and I tried to sleep. I’m exhausted, but my thoughts are in overdrive, and the nauseous feeling in my stomach is only getting worse.

‘I think we need to call it,’ Mason says, and I turn my head to look at him. His hand is on mine, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. ‘Let’s crash somewhere for the rest of the night and we can keep going early tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ I agree, a yawn escaping me.

We drive another fifteen minutes before we come across a vacancy. We pull into the carpark, and I step out of the car, stretching my hands over my head. My legs feel cramped after being in one position for so long. Checking in to the room happens quicker than I expected, or maybe it feels that way because I’m in a daze, like the world is moving around me, but I’m not actually there.

The hotel room is dingy, and its only light flickers. The air feels stale, and the carpet is so worn down I can see the hardwood flooring underneath it. At this point, I really don’t care. I shower and dress almost robotically, then shuffle back out to the room, my eyes barely cracking open to let me see where I’m going.

When Mason crawls in beside me twenty minutes later, I curl into him, and eventually fall into a fitful sleep in his arms.

The next morning, it takes me a long time to open my eyes, since they’re so sore and crusty after crying all night, but I feel a little better after my shower. Poor Mason didn’t get a wink of sleep, seeing as I sobbed and sobbed into his chest. He finally drifted off about an hour ago, so I dressed and walked down to the closest cafe. I tried calling Zayden a few times on my way there and, of course, I didn’t get an answer. This is how he handles things. He shuts down and goes off-grid. Exactly like Mason used to.

When I open the door to the room, Mason startles awake. He peers around, as if he’s forgotten where he is. He rubs his eyes and sits up.

‘Morning,’ I say, holding up the paper bag and coffees.

‘Morning, Blush. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’

‘You needed some rest,’ I reply, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

‘Thanks,’ he mumbles groggily, taking the coffee from my hand and adjusting his position, leaning back on the wall – there’s no bedhead. ‘Did you try calling him?’

‘Yeah.’ I exhale wearily. ‘No luck.’

‘He’ll be okay.’

‘I hope so.’

‘You know this is how he deals with things.’

‘It still worries me.’

We sip and chew in silence, both needing a few more minutes to brace ourselves for the day. I hear my phone vibrate on the bedside table, jerking me out of my thoughts. I look over to it, dread gripping my stomach as I read ‘Mum’ across the screen.

‘Oh, God.’ I turn my head away, slapping my hand to my mouth as my breakfast threatens to come back up. ‘I can’t face her right now. After what ... after what she ...’ Scrambling to my feet, I bolt to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. My knees hit the harsh cold ground. Exhaling, I sag back against the wall, closing my eyes and struggling to draw breath as tears flood my face.

After a minute, I drag myself to my feet and shower once more. I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth. I dress again, push my hair back from my face and go back to Mason.

His shoulders are tense as he paces the room, his right hand doing that trembling, twitchy thing it does when his anxiety is getting the better of him. Walking over to him, I take his hand into mine and press it to my chest.

‘Breathe in,’ I say quietly, taking a long inhale. He does as I say. The familiarity of this feels like deja vu. I can’t count the number of times we stood together, exactly like this, breathing out his panic attacks when he’d come to me after something happened with his dad. Sometimes, it feels like no time has passed between us – we’re still just two kids, there for each other, who love each other so deeply, it consumes everything around us. ‘Breathe out.’ We both exhale, long and hard. Repeating this action, we stay like this for a few moments, until we both feel okay enough to stay upright without the other’s support.

‘Fuck, I’m sorry,’ Mason mutters, raking his hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t mean to make this already fucking terrible day about me.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘I’m here to support you, not the other way around.’

‘We lean on each other. You’re a part of my family, too, Mase. We’re in this together. This affects you just as much as it affects me.’

Yanking me towards him, he dips his head low and captures my mouth in his. The kiss is short, but filled with intensity and heat. It wraps me up in a brief moment of bliss before we breathlessly part.

Within a second of our bodies separating, reality hits me, crushing me to the point I almost stagger under the weight of it.

I need to hold it together. I need to get through this.

Silently, we gather our things and head out the door.

The rest of the trip seems relatively quick – maybe because I desperately want the car to just keep driving, with no destination in sight. When we pull up to the address to the morgue my mother gave me, what I’m about to do sinks in. If I had anything left inside me, I’m sure I would be throwing it all back up in this moment.

‘Do you want me to be there or stay here?’ Mason asks, resting a hand on my knee.

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘I’m not sure anyone that isn’t family can go inside.’

‘Okay. I’m right here. If you need me.’

‘I always need you,’ I admit with a small smile.

His grip on my knee tightens for a moment before he releases me.

With reluctance, I open the door and step outside.