The Master Psychic

chapter 4 - why me

The front door slammed behind Mason as he stepped into the entryway, shoulders still tight, jaw clenched hard enough it ached. His hands were fists at his sides, the rage he'd barely kept from boiling over still coursing through him.

"Harper! Sage!" His voice carried through the house, sharp but controlled. "It's safe. Come out."

A moment later, hurried footsteps sounded from down the hall. Harper appeared first, breathless, and the instant she saw him standing there, she rushed forward. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against his chest.

Mason let out a ragged exhale, his hands finding her back, gripping tightly like he needed her to anchor him. Her presence softened the storm in him, little by little, until his breathing began to even out.

At the top of the stairs, Sage appeared. She stood frozen, one hand clutching the banister. Her wide eyes searched Mason's face, then flicked toward the door he'd just come through. Every part of her wanted to ask who those people had been, why his voice carried so much venom when he spoke to them.

But the words wouldn't leave her throat.

So she stayed quiet, lingering at the top of the stairs, her silence speaking louder than any question.

Mason glanced up, catching sight of her. For a moment, his expression softened, but only barely—the anger still lingered in the set of his jaw.

"Everything's fine now," he said, his voice low but firm. "They're gone."

Harper's arms tightened around him, but Sage didn't move, still caught between fear and the weight of unspoken questions.

Mason finally eased out of Harper's arms, giving her a small nod before looking back up the stairs. His gaze locked on Sage, still standing frozen at the banister, her knuckles white where she gripped the wood.

"Come sit with me, Sage," he said, his voice softer now but carrying an edge of weariness. "I know you've got questions."

For a moment, she didn't move. Then, slowly, she descended the stairs, her bare feet whispering against the steps. The air between them felt heavy, thick with everything unsaid.

They settled into the living room, Mason sinking into the armchair, Sage curling onto the couch across from him, knees tucked close. Harper lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, silent but watchful.

Sage stared down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. When she finally spoke, her voice came out small. "Who... who were they?"

Mason leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His jaw tightened before he answered. "Our parents."

The word landed like a stone in Sage's chest. She looked up sharply, eyes wide. "Our—? But... why would they—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "Why did they call me a monster?"

Mason's eyes darkened. He took a breath, steadying himself. "Because they're cowards. Because they don't understand what you are... what you're capable of. Instead of protecting you, they ran from it. From you."

Sage's throat tightened. "So all this time...?"

"They left us," Mason said flatly. "They left you. I did what I had to do to keep you safe, Sage. I will always do what I have to."

Her eyes stung, tears threatening as she pressed her palms together. "Safe from what?" she whispered. "From them... or from me?"

Mason's gaze snapped to hers, fierce and unflinching. "From anyone who dares to hurt you. Don't you ever think you're the danger here. They were wrong. You're not a monster, Sage."

The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of truth and fear. Sage wanted to believe him—needed to—but the echo of silver eyes in her visions whispered otherwise.

She swallowed hard, her next question trembling on her lips.

Sage wiped at her damp eyes, her voice cracking as she looked at Mason. "Why do you hate them so much? What did they do that made you—made you look at them like that?"

Mason sat back in the chair, his shoulders sinking, his jaw working like he was fighting with the memory before he let it out. He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face.

"You were six," he began, his voice rough. "I'll never forget it. That was the first time your visions really showed themselves. You kept telling Mom and Dad about things that hadn't happened yet—little things, like the neighbor dropping a plate, or a storm hitting earlier than expected."

Sage tilted her head, frowning, her chest tight. "I... don't remember."

"They called it a curse," Mason said, his eyes darkening. "They said you were tainted. A monster. And they decided to 'fix' you."

Sage's stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat. "Fix me... how?"

Mason's jaw clenched so hard the muscle ticked. His fists curled at his knees. "They locked you in the basement. Told me not to interfere. But I heard you crying, screaming, and I—I couldn't stay away. When I got down there, they had lit candles, chanting garbage about purging darkness. Dad held you down while Mom..." His voice caught, and he swallowed hard. "She pressed salt against your skin, burned symbols into your arms. You were six, Sage. Six. And they were torturing you, trying to drive the visions out."

Sage's breath hitched, her hand flying to her mouth. Her skin prickled, almost as if she could feel phantom burns she couldn't remember.

"I pulled you out of there," Mason went on, his voice breaking through clenched teeth. "I told them if they ever touched you again, I'd kill them. And I meant it. That night changed everything. That's when I realized they weren't our parents anymore. Not really. Just people afraid of what they didn't understand."

Sage blinked rapidly, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "That's why you hate them."

Mason's eyes lifted to hers, blazing with a mix of pain and fury. "That's why I'll never forgive them."

The silence in the room was sharp, broken only by Sage's trembling breaths. She had always known Mason's protectiveness came from somewhere deep—but she had never imagined it came from something like this,

Harper had stayed quiet in the doorway while Mason spoke, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She'd thought she'd braced herself, thought she could handle hearing the memory again. But as Mason's voice broke describing what their parents had done, Harper's composure cracked.

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, her throat tightening with the weight of it. She had always known the story—Mason had told her before—but hearing it aloud, watching Sage's wide, devastated eyes... it broke her all over again.

Sage sat small on the couch, tears streaming freely now, her hands clutching a pillow like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Mason watched both of them, his own eyes shadowed with grief and fury, before letting out a long, heavy sigh.

"Come here," he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. He opened his arms wide, looking at both of them.

Sage hesitated, then slid across the couch, pressing herself into Mason's side. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, protective and steady. Harper crossed the room slowly, tears still glistening on her face. Mason reached his other arm out to her without a word, and she sank into his chest, his hand cupping the back of her head as she nestled close.

The three of them stayed like that, huddled together in the dimly lit living room, a small fortress against the ugliness of the past.

After a long silence, Mason cleared his throat, forcing a faint smile. "How about we put on a movie? Something stupid. Something that'll make us forget... just for a while."

Harper sniffled against his shoulder, nodding. Sage let out a watery laugh, shaky but real.

And so they curled closer, wrapped up in each other's warmth, as the flickering glow of the television filled the room. For a little while, the trauma faded into the background, replaced by soft laughter, shared comfort, and the fragile safety of being together.