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MASON

Three Years Ago

IT’S BEEN A SCORCHING hot day. Rubbing my eyes, I drag my feet along the pavement that leads to my house. No lights are on, but a flicker coming from the living-room window has me pausing. I listen, trying to gauge what is going on inside. Dread fills me at the thought of going in. After a long shift at work, then a gruelling practice, I feel dead on my feet.

Crashing at friends’ houses works out most of the time, but right now I’m down to no clean clothes. I’ve been saving madly for my overseas trip, which means I’ve been stuck living at home far longer than I ever wanted to. But I work all day, every day, and my savings have been climbing. I’m close to getting the fuck out of here.

Round, green eyes appear in my mind, and my heart splinters at the thought of leaving Anya and Zayden. They have been such a big part of my life; I honestly have no clue what it would look like without them in it. I’m not planning to go away forever, but long enough that their absence is going to hit me hard. Zayden and I do everything together. And I mean everything . If I’m not with Zayden, I’m with Anya. If I’m not with them, I’m probably still at their house. They’ve become more than best friends to me. They are my family.

Twisting the handle, I slowly ease open the front door. Sound from the TV floats through from the living room and I wait a beat before stepping inside. I walk on tiptoes, trying to reach the bottom of the stairs in silence. My stomach sinks when I don’t see my father’s sleeping form on either the recliner or the lounge.

Something hard crashes into the back of my head and I curse, flying forward and landing on my knees, my skin dragging painfully across something stuck in the carpet. My father’s hand clutches the back of my shirt, yanking me to my feet. He spins me around, then rams his shoulder into my gut, and the air exits my lungs. I choke on a breath as I stumble back. I throw my hands out.

‘Dad! It’s me!’

‘Get. Out. Of. My. House,’ he seethes, blindly reaching for the baseball bat he keeps behind the lounge. I move it all the time, but whenever I return home again, it’s always back there. Once, I even tossed it in the bin right before the rubbish truck collected it, but he went and bought a new one.

‘ Dad .’

I step back from him, trying to meet his stare, but my father isn’t there. His eyes are glazed over and red-ringed. He lunges at me, and this time I crash backwards into the coffee table. Glass shatters around me, and a large piece slices my skin, digging into the back of my hip. I howl in pain, kicking out and striking Dad in the chest. He falls backward, landing in a sprawl.

Despite being out of his mind, he still has insanely fast reflexes. He’s up again and swinging the bat at me as I scramble to my feet. I feel the whoosh of air, and the bat smashes into the side of my face, forcing me off my feet and into the wall. Photo frames crash around me, and I stagger out of the room, black dots dancing across my vision.

I’m in such a rush to get out the door, I trip over my own feet, falling down the front-porch steps. I roll and push myself up, then limp down the path. The pain is everywhere. Reaching back, I touch my hip and hiss. I can feel the glass wedged in deep, but I can’t bear to pull it out.

My father was always a little unhinged, but since my mum left, there’s been a serious decline. That’s when he started drinking and taking other substances. Whether he blames me for it, I don’t know, but she left both of us, and I’ll never forgive her for it. I’ll never forgive him, either, for the monster he became in her absence.

I could close my eyes and make my way over to their house by pure instinct. When I get to the end of their driveway, Zayden’s car isn’t there. His words from earlier resurface in my mind – he’s out with Leasa.

Gritting my teeth, I limp down the side of the house, trying to be as quiet as possible. I breathe a sigh of relief when I try the glass door and it opens. I slip inside and pad down the hallway. I hear the murmur of conversation coming from the kitchen and sneak up the stairs. I get to Anya’s bedroom door and open it.

She’s lying belly-first on her bed, headphones in, a book in her hand. Her mouth falls open when she sees me. My breath comes easier now I’m here with her. The anxiety fades from my body as her presence wraps around me like a warm blanket.

‘Oh my God, Mase.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I choke out, realising how much of a mess I must look. I don’t know why I even go back home; this has happened far too many times now. But then he has good days, and I forget how bad things can get. ‘I don’t have anywhere else to go.’

‘Was it him?’ she whispers, inching towards me, scanning my injuries with a petrified look on her face.

A tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it. ‘Yeah.’

Placing her hands either side of my face, she swipes her thumb across my cheek, collecting the tear. ‘You’re safe now,’ she murmurs. ‘I’ve got you.’

I fall into her arms, burying my face into her neck. ‘I can’t go back there.’

Rubbing soothing circles over my shirt, she makes a soft hum of agreement. ‘You don’t have to.’

Reluctantly, I release her and step back, those emerald eyes meeting mine again. God, this girl. I love her. I’ve always loved her.

The one girl I want. The one girl I can’t have.

‘Come on, I’ll get you cleaned up.’ She slides her fingers through mine. ‘No one has to know.’

My eyes close for a brief moment, pain radiating through me to the point where I feel I might pass out. My relief and appreciation for this girl swells in my chest. ‘Thank you,’ I murmur, tightening my hold on her. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’

Squeezing my hand, she smiles up at me through her own tears. ‘You’ll never find out because I’ll be here. Always.’