Chapter 9 Where is he?
SOMA
I run all the way to Old Man Jimmy’s trailer home. It’s a good half hour from Aunt Helen’s, but I don’t care. All I know is I need to see Mason. To have him hold me and tell me everything will be okay. That the universe isn’t out to crush us, even if it feels that way.
At this time of the night, Mason is usually at the back of the trailer, messing around with Jimmy’s excuse of a car. But when I reach the clearing and cut through the rows of tall grasses, everything’s still. Too still.
The car is gone. No light spills from the windows. There’s no low music, no clatter of tools, and no grumbling Mason muttering curses under his breath. I circle around to the front and knock softly.
“Mason?” I call, voice cracking.
No answer.
Panic coils in my chest. Has he left? I glance behind me at the long stretch of nothingness I came from. There’s no going back to Aunt Helen’s tonight. She has probably readied a coffin for me.
But if I don’t return to the house and Mason is missing, where will I sleep tonight? My hand shakes as I try the door, and it gives. I don’t remember Mason or Jimmy ever being this careless about their home’s safety, so I hesitate for a moment before pushing the door open.
The metal creaks softly, the hinges whining as it swings inward. A chill creeps up my spine, and I freeze on the threshold. The trailer is pitch black, with a darkness that settles too thickly and heavily. Something seems to breathe in the shadows, or maybe it’s my fear playing tricks on me.
Still, I don’t move. It feels like someone is inside, watching and waiting. I squint into the dark, but I don’t flick the lights on, holding my breath as I step in quietly.
When I finally gather the courage to move, I shut the door quietly and enter. The floorboards creak faintly beneath me, and my heart races. Maybe Mason’s just asleep, tired from the assault. Besides, he likes to sleep in the dark. He must be in his room.
A door creaks open, cutting off that line of thought. Since I came in through the front door, that means the sound is from the back door. I’m not stupid or brave or strong enough to find out what or who that is. But I spin around and rush to the small, foggy window near the sink. My breath fogs up the glass as I press close, peering into the dark beyond the trailer.
The outdoor lights stay off, but something moves.
A tall hooded figure stands perfectly still at the edge of the clearing, just beyond the moonlight’s reach. I can’t see his face, only the wisps of silver-blond hair that peek out of his hoodie. He stands there, staring at the trailer.
As if sensing me, he tilts his head, his stance changing like he can see into the trailer, and I drop to a crouch. Sweat slicks my palms, and my pulse hammers in my ears. When I peek again, he hasn’t moved.
What if he’s one of Jimmy’s enemies? The man talks too much, especially when he’s had too much to drink.
The stranger stays that way for a long time before he turns and walks away, disappearing into the trees. Even in his absence, my skin prickles.
Something about him feels wrong.
Maybe he’s one of Jimmy’s friends. But why stay in the dark? Why escape through the back when I enter? Why hide? Whatever the case, I can’t be here anymore.
With that thought echoing in my head, I rush to the front door, ready to bolt. But it opens before I grip the knob, and I slam into someone. I stumble back with a yelp.
“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” a voice slurs.
Jimmy. He smells like cheap beer. His shirt is stained, and his glassy eyes are too slow to blink.
“Whatchu doin’ out here, honey?” he says.
Coming from him, honey makes my stomach turn. He reaches out and grabs my wrist before I can duck. His grip isn’t hard, but it’s firm enough to still my breath.
“Nothing,” I say, yanking my hand free. “I—I came to find Mason. We were supposed to meet tonight.”
That’s a lie, but we spend enough time together for it to be considered the truth.
“Mason, Mason, Mason,” he mutters, stepping back and swaying on his feet. “Always you and Mason. You ever wonder if that boy’s worth all this dmn trouble?”
He looks at me like he’s waiting for an answer I won’t give. With a snort, he shakes his head and walks off.
A moment later, his room’s door slam shut. I stand there frozen and trembling from the wind rushing in through the open door. I don’t know who that man was. I don’t know whether Mason’s coming back tonight. But I know I’m not heading back to Aunt Helen’s, not when that person might be lurking in the shadows.
With my decision made, I shut the front door behind me. The darkness isn’t as scary now, but I don’t turn on the lights. Instead, I navigate by memory, brushing my fingers along the kitchen counter and the side of the couch until I reach the small door to Mason’s room.
Moonlight spills into the room through the window. The bed is unmade, and the covers are tossed and tangled, like Mason left in a hurry or hasn’t slept properly in days. The familiar smell of motor oil and soap lingers in the air.
Out of habit, I smooth the bed first, take off my sandals, and crawl under the blanket, hugging one of his pillows close to my chest. It’s warm here, comforting even, but I don’t relax. I lie stiff on my side, eyes wide open, while staring at nothing.
What if Jimmy tries something tonight?
What if that man in the hoodie comes back?
What if Mason never shows up? Has he left?
My heart sinks when I picture the different ways Aunt Helen will punish me. Maybe I can sneak back into the house early tomorrow morning to prepare her daughters. They’ll be in a rush, so she won’t have time to punish me. But what happens after the ceremony?
I pull the blanket up to my chin and force myself not to fall asleep. My body aches from the day’s fight, tears, and beating, but my mind remains on high alert. Every creak and every whisper of wind outside keep me wired.
Sleep presses heavily behind my eyelids. I turn over, then back again to fight it off. But exhaustion is a cruel thing. It doesn’t care how scared you are. It doesn’t ask permission.
Eventually, my breathing slows, and my muscles stop clenching. The tension in my jaw softens. Somewhere between listening for footsteps and praying for morning, my eyes slip shut.
Sleep drags me under. As much as I want to stay awake, I’m too tired to fight it, so I give in.