My Life
910 Words
MASON'S POV:
Once she walks away, I sink back into my chair, letting out a slow breath.
I don’t even know why I gave her my number.
Maybe I want to be friends with her.
Yeah… that must be it.
Still, there’s something about Isabella that pulls me in, her voice, her confidence, the way she looks at people like she already knows their intentions. She’s interesting. Too interesting.
A minute later, Linda returns and plops down across from me.
“Hey! Where’s Isabella?”
I twist the lid off my water bottle. “She left. Said something important came up.”
Linda scrunches her nose. “Yeah, she’s not free nowadays. Her father is marrying someone. Bloody cheater.”
I look up, confused. “What? Her father is a cheater?”
She nods dramatically. “Yeah! I’ve been crushing on him for two years. I was ready to marry him the moment he gave me a chance, but he chose someone else instead of me.”
A short laugh slips from me before I can stop it.
“Linda… be careful with your words. You’ve been crushing on him. How does that make him a cheater if he doesn’t even know you exist?”
She rolls her eyes at me like I’m the one talking nonsense.
I push my chair back and grab my jacket.
“Okay then, I should head out. I’m tired. Need sleep.”
She stands up as well. “Come on, I’ll drop you. It’s on my way home.”
I don’t argue and follow her out. She drives me to my apartment and stops right at the entrance, surprisingly generous of her.
I step inside the building, punch in my code, and walk into the quiet of my apartment. The moment the lights turn on, all the exhaustion catches up with me.
I kick off my shoes, throw my jacket over the couch, and head straight to my bed.
The second my head hits the pillow, everything, the race, Linda’s nonsense, Isabella’s smile, fades out.
And I fall asleep almost instantly.
In the dream, she appears again.
She’s smiling at me, the way she used to.
“Life is hard, Mason… but I will try to keep up.”
Her voice echoes, soft, fragile.
Then, suddenly, her eyes roll upward.
Her lips part, and blood spills out, trailing down her chin.
Before I can reach her, she collapses to the floor, choking on her last breath.
“NOOO!”
My scream rips out of my chest as I jerk awake.
I sit up abruptly, drenched in sweat, gasping like I’ve been drowning. My heart slams violently against my ribs. The room spins for a moment before settling into silence.
I run a shaky hand over my face.
Five years… and still, these nightmares refuse to leave me.
Five years, and her death still claws through the dark every time I close my eyes.
May God help me.
I grab my phone, hoping to distract myself, hoping for anything that can pull me out of the sinking pit in my chest.
The screen lights up.
A notification.
I blink, then open it.
“Hey! It’s Isabella, how are you?”
A small breath escapes me, almost a laugh, almost relief.
I type back instantly.
“I’m fine.”
Her reply comes within seconds.
And then another.
And another.
Soon we’re talking nonstop, messages bouncing back and forth, and for the first time tonight…
I forget the nightmare.
I forget the blood.
I forget the ache that has been haunting me for half a decade.
For a little while, it’s just her,
and the strange comfort her words bring me.
The next day, I wake up late.
No surprise, I spent the whole night talking to Isabella. She’s a great distraction, soft in her words, playful, with a childish side that somehow feels… refreshing.
I make myself a simple breakfast, taking a bite of my toast just as the doorbell rings. With the slice still in hand, I walk over and pull the door open.
Standing outside is Sean, my best friend, my partner in crime, and the only person who knows all versions of me.
“Hey, buddy,” he says before pulling me into a brotherly hug.
“Hey, bro.” I shut the door behind him as he makes himself comfortable on the couch like he owns the place.
“Where have you been for a week?” I ask, grabbing my coffee and sitting across from him.
He stretches out, closing his eyes dramatically. “My girlfriend wanted to celebrate our one year anniversary. Shopping, dinners, a trip out of town… the full torture package.”
I laugh. “How’s your life going?”
“Good, good. Yours?”
I take a sip of my coffee. “I won the race yesterday. And I made a new online friend on that app I joined. Turns out she’s Linda’s best friend. We actually met in person at the stadium.”
He opens his eyes immediately. “So… is she hot?”
I nod, smirking. “Hot enough to bang. Because, you know—”
“You don’t do love,” he finishes for me. “I know that.”
I snap my fingers. “Exactly.”
We continue talking, about races, weekend plans, where to hang out tonight. Simple things. The kind of normal conversations that keep life steady.
At least for now.
- Writer
