“What’d you do, Mase? Is this like before?”
I ran a hand down my face and let out a breath.
“Looks worse. Not in the same spot. It’s on the front of my thigh.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. “You’ve got to stop doing this shit, man. I can’t keep coming to your rescue like this. More than likely, you’re going to need a real doctor, but I know you won’t fucking go.”
I didn’t say a word because he was right. I had no right to put this on him. I was a shitty friend.
“You’re right. Go back to your night. I’ll get it taken care of. “
“Mase.” He sighed. “Shut the fuck up. I’m on my way.
I lay there for an hour, drinking the scotch to the point of almost passing out when I finally heard the door open.
“Fuck, Mason.” I heard him sigh as he entered my room.
I slowly peeked open my eyes to see him standing there, brow furrowed with his kit in hand.
He walked slower and set his bag on the bed beside me, then snatched the scotch out of my hand.
“How much of this have you had?”
I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open.
“Enough,” I mumbled.
“Good. Because this is bad, man. It’s going to leave one hell of a scar.”
I scoffed and tilted my head to the side. Like I cared about another scar. It was just another reminder of how fucked-up I really was.
I tilted my head to the side as Luke got to work. I could hear him talking, but nothing was registering. Memories of Sophia flowed through my mind, ones I’d forgotten about, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.
I blacked out.
*
Seventeen years old
I’d woken up late on Sunday morning, completely messing up my morning routine. I usually always worked out, showered, then went downstairs to grab some breakfast and bring it down to Sophia. But this morning I’d overslept.
I tried not to think about why I was so tired, but the guilt weighed heavy on my mind. I never understood how everything flowed so easily for me when I was doing it, but as soon as I had time to think about what I was doing, the guilt would always slide through.
It didn’t help that I immediately thought of Sophia when I walked through the doors either, but she was my reason. I was ruining lives to save hers. She was what mattered.
I’d asked myself on numerous occasions if it was worth my soul. Was it worth signing my life over to the devil? My answer was always the same.
Yes.
Heading downstairs, I looked to the right toward the hallway leading to John’s office and saw Donicko walking out of the door which led down to Sophia.
“Hey!” I yelled, running the rest of the way down the stairs. “What the hell were you doing down there?”
Donicko greeted me with a smile. “Good morning, Mason. It’s good to see you, too.”
I frowned at him. “I didn’t say it was good to see you. Now tell me why you were down there.”
He chuckled and placed his hands in his pockets. “Just checking on my merchandise, boy. No need to worry. She’s waiting for her breakfast.”
That pissed me off. She wasn’t his damn merchandise.
“She’s not yours, and she never will be.”
“Then who’s is she, boy? Are you finally going to claim her as yours?” He laughed. “Because I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“I’m going to get her out of here one way or another.”
“You can try, my boy, you can try. But you won’t get far.”
He turned and walked off, and I let out a heavy sigh as I turned toward the back of the house to the kitchen.
It’s the things he said that always made me wonder why I was doing what I was doing. Did I truly believe they would eventually let Sophia go? No, but deep down I’d hate myself more than I already did if I didn’t try.
I entered the kitchen and walked to the island where my food was already laid out for me. Mrs. Stein knew what I grabbed every morning and tried to have it out for me before I came down. She never asked me why I took so much food.
I placed the breakfast tray on the counter and piled on the strawberry Pop Tarts (Sophia’s favorite), my omelet that was on the hot plate, a glass of milk and one of orange juice, a banana, a bowl of strawberries, and yogurt. It was a lot of food, but I managed to carry it all the way down to Sophia without dropping a thing.
I set the tray on the floor and knocked lightly before I entered the room. It was something I always did to let her know it was me who was entering. It wasn’t something I had to do, but I at least wanted her to have some type of privacy.
“Good morning,” I stated as I entered the room, placing the tray on the small table on the far wall where we always had our breakfast.
I heard the toilet flush, then the water run, before Sophia finally made an appearance.
She looked toward me with a small smile then headed over to get her food. I knew something was wrong, but I was never sure how to ask her about it. I didn’t like being forceful with her, but sometimes it was the only way I could get things out of her.