Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven
I sit up in my room. Alone. I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the four pale white walls around me. I feel so caged in, so trapped. Maybe it's just my anxiety...maybe it is just me over thinking too much about what Mason said.

I was just so infuriated about how he thought he could suddenly bring it out, and....talk about it...as if....as if it was nothing, but also something. I wanted to move on, because that s all I have learned to do. Move on.

'Move on, Alana...just move on, you'll be fine.' My Mother's voice echoes through my mind.

Why do I feel as if my brain is about to burst?

Now, after the confession of guilt from Mason...I can feel the slight remembrance at the back of my mind. The same agonizing pain at the back of my legs digging away at my flesh...my bones...draining my veins.

I shake it off. Shake...shake...shake. Rub it away! Get it away! It's of nothingness now, it is in the past. Something that did happen, can't still be happening.
Past...
It is in the past...

"Mason!" Crying...crying...and more crying...

Screams...sirens...sounds of running footsteps.

Who's footsteps? Footsteps...one step, after another step.

My heat is beating so quickly, so fast...I can't keep up with the page of my own breathing. Wait. Am I even breathing at all. Where am I? Am. Even still here? Where? When? How?

And who? Who?

"Alana!? Alana, can you hear me!? Please..." Mason's voice. I hear it, but...where?

I realize, i'm trapped in blackness, nothingness...nothing, and darker. Colder, darker, colder. "Alana!" High pitching screaming...
Mother! Mum! Where are you?

"She's unconscious."

"No, no! Not my baby! My poor baby!" Mum...oh, Mum...
I feel her arms...I feel her. Her heat, her warmth...her love. I feel t all, and for the first time in my life...I'm scared. So scared.

Terrified.

"Alana, darling?" I jump at the same tune, that same soft voice. The motherly tone.

"Mum." I sigh. She sits beside me and I feel the bed creak slightly.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing."

She smiles warmly, "Something, you mean."

I shrug, "Nothing that matters."

"It does. Everything matters." She corrects me, her hand laying on my shoulder. I remember the same warm touch when I was in a coma in the ambulance van. My Mother's panicking voice, shaking me all over.

'
"Sweetheart, you know you can always talk to me. Right?" She says hastily.
I nod grimly, but sometimes...I actually don't think I can always talk to her. Not about this anyway. And especially not about Mason.

"I'm getting the hint it is obviously something to do with Mason." She guesses. And correct, she is.
I nod but then shrug as well.

"Alana, is everything alright?"

Another shrug. "I dunno. Things are just piling up I guess."
She presses her eyebrows together in confusion. "Like what?"

"There's just all the studying...and Dad, and the family...friends. Then there's silly time that Mason comes out with at times, things that just...get under my skin."

My Mum glares, "Has he been saying things to wined you up?"
I shake my head, "No, just...silly things that don't make sense...and it upsets me."

"What did he say?"

"He was talking about...the...the accident." I whisper lowly. My voice is trembling like mad. We never, ever talk about what happened. Its too horrific to think back to, and Mum doesn't know how to deal with it.

"Oh, right. I see." She eventually says and I feel her hand slowly retreat, sliding away from my shoulder. I feel the loss of warmth, the loss of protection.

"Don't sorry about anything he says. If he's being horrible, ignore. It's in the past now." She tries to convince me.

"That's what you keep telling me, just
Like out have always told me. But Mum, sometimes i can't forget...it's always there. Always." Don't cry, Alana. Don't cry.

Mum sighs tiredly. "What did he specifically say?"

"He tried apologizing. He was telling me ow guilty he feels."

She nods, "Well, so he should. He always was a cockey sod when he was little. He got far too wild. I wouldn't have wanted your death on his conscience. So, it's jus as we'll you survived."

"But...he's never spoke about it...and suddenly, he's..."

"I know, I know. He's probably just come to terms with the trauma we all went through. Sometimes, it does take years to build bridges." She smiles, "Now, come on. Dinner will be getting cold."

I make my way downstairs with her. Dad and Mason are both sitting at the sitting at the table eating.

Dad is talking to Mason about the football game he's just watched. Although, Mason's expression seems blank. He doesn't appear to be taking any of it in. It makes me want to tap his head and just go, "Hello! Is anyone there?"

"It's so fucking ridiculous, how can he get blown off like that!?" Dad barks. My Mother's eyes widen. "Language!"

"Alright, alright." Dad rolls his eyes and Mason chuckles lightly as he plays with his food.

Hmm...he doesn't seem go want to eat. For Mason, that is rather weird because....he usually data like a pig. Like a Oliver boy has never been fed.

Mother notices too. "Not eating, Mason?"

I carefully take a seat beside him, as if not to set him off.

"Not hungry." He says.

"You sick?" Dad questions. Mason shakes his head.

Mum walks round the dining table and feels his forehead. "No. No temperature." She confirms as a nurse would. Jesus, she really does overreact.

Mason leans away with a annoyed look. "I'm fine, just not hungry."
"Well, that's not like you. You eat like there's no tomorrow!" Dad chuckles his big belly laugh.

"Whatever." Mason huffs, pushing his chair away and stomping out of the room. Mum and Dad watch him like two mice.

He disappears down the hallway and I hear his footsteps retreat back up the staircase to his bedroom. For the first time in my life, a part of me actually shares a bit of sympathy for him. My mind drifts back to the accident all those years ago and I can understand how terrible it was for him...let alone myself. Maybe...maybe he hasn't forgiven himself for it, maybe he blames himself for everything.

I never wanted to blame my own brother for what happened, even though he may have been the instigator of it all...but...I love him, he's my brother and I love him to pieces. I would never have wanted him to bottle up any terrible guilt for something that wasn't really his fault.

"That boy is getting way out of his depth." Dad mumbles, cutting up his piece of steak in small blocks. Mother eyes him with annoyance, "There is nothing wrong with him...he's just growing up and getting a little ignorant as he goes."

"He's not being ignorant." I stand up for him, sipping on my glass of lemonade wich my Mum has just placed down on the table.

"Well, what else would you call that sort of behaviour?" She glares at me.

I roll my eyes, "He's a boy...what do you expect?"

Dad chuckles, "A boy who is your elder brother. He should be showing better role model behaviour than that."

"I don't need a role model, I learn from my own actions thank you."

Mum laughs light heartedly, "I think she gets it from me."

"Yeah, you and your role model behaviour is enough to turn her into a sneaky young girl." Dad comments, swallowing on a small piece of his cut steak. Mum stares down at him as if she was secretly praying for him to choke on it. "She only learns from the best of her abilities, as have I for so many years."

"That's only because you met me. Since me, you've learnt a lot." He winks naughtily, and I can tell it's a secret joke or hint between him and my Mother. Huh, couples for ya.




Once we had finished our dinner, I made my way upstairs. I was about to turn and walk into my room but a sound from Mason's room made me turn away. I looked towards his door, and the sounds of light thudding pricked at my curiosity.

I walked towards his bedroom door and tried his handle. Unexpectedly, it was unlocked....of which it normally never is. "Mason?"

"Alana." He responds in a tired voice.

I push his door open to find him throwing darts at his dart board on the wall above his bed. He'd hit the above the centre twice. Playing darts has always been a favourite of his. He was always a legend at it when he was thirteen years of age. He tried to teach me as a little girl, but I never really found it appealing.

"What do you want?" He asks softly.

"Just wanted to talk. Dad was driving me crazy earlier."

He smirks, aiming another dart at the dart board. "What he do?" He yawns, and stretches once he finally targets the red centre with his last dart. I sigh, exasperated. "He's just a cheek of a Dad. Dunno how Mum has put up with him in eighteen years of marriage."

"I don't see the point in marriage." He comments, turning towards his CD player and looking through his CD shelf. His favourite band was always old singers like, Black Eyed Peas and James Blunt etc.

"Why?" I question, perching myself on the edge of his unmade, messy bed.

"It's boring...no excitement. I mean, I don't really want to dedicate my whole life to just one woman for the rest of my life. The rest of my life is a fucking hell of a long time. I'd rather have fun...get hammered, sleep with prostitutes and take drugs."

"I guess it depends on the person." I sigh.

He nods, still flicking through his CD'S. "So..."

"Why did you say all that at the table today?" I blurt out.

"It's just been eating away at me lately....that's all." He shrugs, placing one of his CD's into the disc player. He turns the volume down low, and it begins to softly play as background music. James Blunt....as I might have known. One of his favourites. "Fall At Your Feet".

"But you've never spoke about it before. Why now...?"

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look. I don't know, ok? I don't know anything anymore. I'm a mess half the time, and everyone keeps expecting me to know the answer to everything I do, and why I do it. I just...I don't know! I don't know, like I know nothing else about life." He's talking rushed, like he's been holding his breath under water his whole life. Wow. I really didn't realise how much he'd been containing himself. How pathetic...I don't been know my own brother!

"Well, maybe we can talk some more. Like we use to? Like how we're meant to." I suggest in a small voice.

"You know I want to do a little more than just talking." He says, peeking over at me with a small glint in his eyes. Ok...I get the hint.

Ok, maybe he's horny whatever. As a solution, I shake my head and make my way to his door. However, before my hand can reach his door handle I feel his fingers lock around the sides of my waist and he twists me around. Suddenly, I'm being pinned against the door with my wrists above my head. His lips are only centimetres from mine.

I'm short of breath...really short of breath.

"I want a kiss." He breathes, his breath hitting my lips. I tremble. "O-ok." I give him a quick peck on the cheek. His face tightens, "You know that's not what I mean."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe. But so are you." He smirks and let's me go. "You won't get away next time." I turn and pull the door open. "There won't be a next time, Mason."

"Oh, ye-"

"Goodnight." I cut him off and close his door shut behind me as I leave. There's no way he is winning without a fight. I'm not going to give in.