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Dalton is empty. I could see it in his soulless eyes. He wanted to cause me extreme pain and to take everyone down with him. I don’t know what his plan was originally, but I can’t help but wonder if he thought he was going to die too. Or if he wanted to.
Weston died because he tried to kill Mason, Hunter, and Liam. I know without a doubt he would’ve killed me too if he’d had the chance. Dalton wanted revenge in the worst way.
They were both monsters, and I’m not sorry for what ultimately happened to either of them.
I’m only sorry that Dacia paid the price for trying to protect me.
Unable to keep my thoughts from unraveling, I haven’t been able to sleep in days. My body passes out after hours of crying, but I’m not really sleeping. I don’t wake up rested. In fact, I wake up tortured.
“Soph?” I hear Mason’s soft voice in my ear. It’s been a week since the incident, and I still can’t get Dacia out of my head. Her family had a funeral for her yesterday, but it was a private ceremony only. They didn’t know me, and I wasn’t sure I could handle going anyway.
“Hmm?” I answer with my eyes closed and my cheek pressed against his chest. The swelling in my face has gone down, and my ribs don’t hurt as badly, but I still ache, though I think it’s more of a mental pain at this point.
“Are you hungry? You need to eat, babe.” He brushes a loose strand of hair off my face. “I can make tacos.”
“I don’t have an appetite,” I tell him honestly.
“I know, sweetheart. Could you try, though? I’m worried you’re going to get dehydrated or starve. You’ve barely left your room.” The concern is evident in his tone, so I try to get my shit together.
“Actually…” I wipe my face and sit up, knowing I look like a hot fucking mess. Mason showered with me two days ago, and I haven’t had the energy to change clothes or brush my hair since then. “I talked with my parents yesterday, and I think going to Utah for a bit would help me,” I tell him. “I think I need a change of scenery.”
Mason searches my face, and I know this is probably a shock to him. As weird as it sounds, this past week has felt like it’s pulled us apart while at the same time bringing us together. “Do you want me to go with you? I can get off work for a few days, I’m sure.”
“I think I need to do this alone. My dad has a friend who’s a professional counselor that I can speak with, and I think being back home will help me get out of my own head a bit,” I explain, hating the pained way he’s looking at me. “I should’ve talked with someone after shit went down with Weston, but since I didn’t, I’m carrying the weight of both on my shoulders. Admittingly, I need help to get through this, and staying here, crying in my bed, isn’t what I need.”
Mason swallows, and I’m sure he’s trying to think of ways to keep me here, but when his expression softens, he knows I’m right. I need professional therapy to deal with the demons that threaten to take over.
“Okay, baby,” he finally responds. I know he’s tried to help—he’s been amazing, actually—but I need more than what he can give me right now. “If that’s what you think will help you, then I’ll support your decision. Do you need me to do anything? Find flights for you or anything?”
“My dad already booked one for me. It leaves tomorrow at eight a.m.”
“Oh. Okay. Can I drive you to the airport at least?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” I smile at him, knowing this hasn’t been easy for him either. He’s getting shit from his father again, but at least he didn’t have mandatory leave from work this time. I’m thankful for that because I’m not sure I could feel guilty about one more thing right now.
Later that night while I’m packing, Lennon and Maddie come over. They’ve been quiet, neither knowing what to say or how to comfort me. Not that I can blame them. Nothing they can say or do will change the way I feel or what’s happened. Being with them like this is enough for me.
“You sure you want to go home without us?” Lennon asks, half-teasing. “I forgot how small our beds were until I went back and realized we basically slept in shoe boxes.”
That has me laughing a little, mostly because it’s true. Even my bed at my old apartment was bigger than the one I had at my parents’ home. Of course, Mason insisted on getting me a queen bed, which is perfect, considering he hasn’t left my side all week. He’s laid with me every night, holding me as I cry myself to sleep. Mason’s been so patient and caring, and I feel bad for leaving, but I can’t just be a shell of a person anymore. I need to figure out how to work through these feelings I have, and I hope being in Utah will be a good start in that direction.
