How could he know?
I avert my gaze as tears threaten to fall for the second time today, but I refuse to let them. My dad’s face fills my mind, and I can’t help but recognise the same kindheartedness between him and the man before me.
Maybe I’m just projecting the fatherly qualities I’ve missed for so long onto the first man who shows me kindness, but I want to tell Mason.
Everything in me tells me to trust him, but…
I can’t risk it.
You know what happens.
An image of Mason laying lifeless on the ground, his throat gaping open, and his blood pooling around him flashes in front of me. My body jolts, and I have to swallow the vomit that tries to crawl up my throat.No, not Mason.
Blood already covers my hands, and telling Mason will only put him in danger.
I can’t do it.
My insides feel like they’re pulling in different directions, and I grasp the card tight in my hand. Waiting until my voice is close to normal, I offer him a thank you, not bothering to mention I don’t have a phone to call him on, even if I wanted to.
Mason accepts my response, no matter how meagre, and doesn’t push for anything more. He stays for a few more minutes and even sets up the television with the program he mentioned earlier before heading back to work.
I aimlessly flick through all the new shows I have to choose from, but I feel too restless to stay seated.
I need todosomething.