I look down at my watch—it’s a quarter to midnight. I’ve barely been able to focus at all in the last few hours, and the library will be closed soon. I may as well get packed up to leave.
“Sasha!”
I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of my name. I look up and gasp when I behold the person who used to be Mason Howard standing before me. He looksawful. His clothing is wrinkled and stained, his hair is disheveled, he has a week’s growth of a beard on his face, and there are dark circles under his eyes.
He seems out of breath. He kneels down in front of me and takes my hand in his like he’s about to propose. There’s a terrible, haunted look in his bloodshot hazel eyes.
“Sasha…” he whispers.
I try not to let on how shocked I am by his appearance. I force a smile. “Hey, Mason.”
“Sasha, I think…” He takes a deep breath. “I think there’s something wrong with me. I… I think I’m losing it…” As he speaks the words, his eyes fill up with tears.
I’ve never seen Mason cry. I’ve only seen aman cry once in my entire life: when my father watched me graduate from college.
“Please help me,” he whispers.
He buries his face in his hands, his trembling fingers reaching into his brown hair and compulsively pulling at the strands.
Why should I help him? Nobody ever helped me.
He looks back up at me, the desperation plain on his face. He’s having his first lucid moment in a long time, and he’s realizing what is happening to him. It’s almost heartbreaking.
Almost.
“Calm down,” I say, trying to put conviction into my words. “You’re fine. Everyone gets nervous before a big exam.”
Mason is shaking his head, mouthing the word “no.”
“Come on,” I say. “Think about it: people who are crazy don’t know they’re crazy, right? You’re just being a typical med student hypochondriac.”
I watch his face, waiting to see if he’ll buy it.
“Maybe…” he says slowly.
“You just need to get some sleep,” I say in my most gentle voice. Hey, maybe I’ve got a career in psychiatry. As if.
Mason’s shoulders sag.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He sighs and looks back up at me. For a moment, he’s his old self as he offers me a half-hearted grin, “Hey, do you want to go to the locker rooms…?”
Even with everything going on, I’m tempted. Even with his disheveled appearance, Mason is still very attractive. But I can’t. Not after everything I’ve done to him. Just looking at him makes me hate myself.
87
Usually,when I start studying, I’m like a machine. I keep going until I’ve gotten through everything I intended to learn at the beginning of the session and then some.
But today, once again, I can’t concentrate.
I keep thinking about Mason. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m worried about him. Really worried. I don’t know what’s going on in his head. And it scares me. The last time I saw him, there was something terrifying in his eyes. Every time I try to concentrate on my work, I see those bloodshot hazel eyes.
Finally, I give up on studying and decide to head over to Mason’s suite. I’ve never actually been there before because we’ve been keeping our relationship casual and a bit hush-hush, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore since it’s pretty much over. And I’m a little bit curious to see where he lives.
I drive over to the dorm where the vast majority of students are residing. I briefly considered living in the dorm because it was so cheap, but at my age, I couldn’t stomach it. I needed my own apartment and my privacy—I couldn’t imagine having to abide by some dorm rules and have a roommate sharing my bedroom.
Mason’s apartment is on the third floor of the dorm. I find his apartment, and after only a brief hesitation, I knock on the door. By the heavy footsteps, I can tell that Abe is the one coming to answer the door. He looks slightly breathless as he pulls the door open, and I feel a twinge of sympathy as his face falls when he sees it’s only me. I suspect he was hoping for Heather.
“Oh, hey, Sasha,” he says. “Mason isn’t here right now.”
