Page 5 of Torment

“I know. But honestly, I think you should come next year. Just for once. The others really want to see you,” she said. She reached over and patted my hand. “They still see you as the one who saved us all, you know.”

I pressed my lips together. I knew everyone viewed me as the one who blew the whistle on New Eden and exposed the horrors to the world, but that wasn’t right. I starred in that testimony video that went viral on the internet, but I wasn’t the one who filmed it or sent it in. I wasn’t the one who contacted the FBI, either.

“We both know I wasn’t the hero,” I muttered.

Lauren was silent for a moment. “Have you heard from Mason since the last time I asked?” she said tentatively.

I bristled. The mere mention of his name always had a chilling effect on me, like skeletal fingers had just brushed over my leg. “Nope,” I said, a little too loudly. I was trying way too hard to pretend I didn’t care. “Eight years and not a word.”

“Sorry. That sucks.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, adopting a lighter tone to disguise my true feelings.

On the day of the FBI raid, Mason didn’t show up as planned. He didn’t come to the hospital to visit me when we were all sent there for extensive checkups, either. At first I thought he might just be busy, but then I remembered what I’d said and done when I was high and hallucinating on the pills earlier that morning.

It occurred to me with stark horror that my father might’ve had him killed over the things I’d said. It seemed like something he might try to do before attempting to make his grand escape across the border, so I asked the FBI agents if they knew where Mason was. They said they didn’t. They hadn’t heard from him since he sent them all the evidence he’d compiled at New Eden.

My panic grew until one agent mentioned to me that they’d finally located him. It became clear from what he said that Mason was still alive… he just wasn’t anywhere near me.

I asked the agent to tell him I was asking about him. He simply nodded and said he’d let him know when he could. I followed up with that later, and I was told my messages had definitely been left with Mason. But I never heard from him. No visits, no calls, not even a letter.

I understood. I probably wouldn’t contact me either.

I knew Mason was definitely still around, though. In the few times I’d used the free Wi-Fi at random cafés, I’d looked him up online. Back in the day, he had quite a reputation as a womanizer, but now that reputation was defunct. He kept to himself and hardly anyone ever saw him. Apparently he headed up his family’s company, splitting his time between its branches in New York, Chicago and New Orleans, but aside from that, he didn’t seem to do much at all. Almost never left his building.

A few people on gossip forums mentioned that he had a lot of scars, and others said it was because of some sort of house fire which killed his entire family. The details surrounding the deaths were very hazy. According to the gossip-mongers, it was still an open arson case and therefore the police hadn’t released any information to the public, but rumor had it that Mason was there the night of the fire, and he’d simply been lucky to survive the flames. Hence all the scars.

Other darker rumors stated that he’d set the fire himself in an attempt to murder his family and get the company all to himself, and he’d bitten off more than he could chew and accidentally got caught up in the fire. I had a feeling that was total bullshit, though.

Either way, he wasn’t talking. He didn’t go to clubs or parties anymore, like he used to on a near-constant basis when he was in his twenties, and he never gave interviews or discussed what happened to him or his family. He didn’t even take credit for his part in the New Eden raid, despite the fact he would be lauded as a hero if everyone knew. He also conducted most of his business from wherever he stayed, via phone or internet, so that he wouldn’t have to go out very often. He was like a damn ghost.

With a sharp pang biting at my guts, I wondered if I’d ever run into him in New Orleans now that his company had a branch here, even though he so rarely stepped out in public these days. I tried to picture it happening as best I could, but if we walked right past each other, I wasn’t sure he’d recognize me.

I wasn’t sure he’d even want to.

I often tried to pretend as if I didn’t think about him, and believe me, I tried my hardest not to. But every so often, the memories would creep in, and Mason’s handsome face would haunt me. Nothing could lessen what I still felt, even after all these years, and on my darkest days, nothing could erase the stain of guilt on my soul.

I just had to keep doing my best to push on and ignore the feelings. He wasn’t coming back to me. Especially after the things I’d done.

Lauren glanced at her watch. “Shit, I better go. I have a prac class soon.”

We paid and headed outside. A cold front was finally blowing through the area, sending lush breezes which left the air with a freshly-laundered scent.

“Are you going home now?” Lauren asked as she fumbled in her purse for her car keys.

I shook my head. “I might drive down to the river. It’s gotten so nice out here in the last few hours.”

She smiled. “Good idea. Think about what I said, okay? And no more wine!” She hugged me, and then she was gone.

When I reached the riverfront, I took off down the path, enjoying the sudden gusts of autumnal air. I often felt claustrophobic—yet another lovely side effect of living in an oppressive underground shelter for so long—so I liked to take long, leisurely walks out in the open whenever I had the chance.

In fact, every Sunday, I drove all the way out to Maurepas Swamp near Laplace to watch the sun rise over the marshes. The sky would be a deep blue when I arrived, and then the first rays would arc over the world, painting the wispy clouds with a watercolor mélange of pink, violet and orange. It was the only time I woke up before sunrise, or even close to such a time, but it was worth it.

My nose twitched at the scent of garlic and herbs from a restaurant I passed on the riverwalk, and I paused for a moment, remembering what it was like to be deprived of such simple pleasures for so long. I considered stepping into the restaurant to order something, but my stomach was still heavy with cinnamon buns.

It was still nice to know I had the option, though. I never used to.

After an hour of wandering back and forth, I saw dark clouds gathering in the west. The river was a chocolate brown with frothy barge wakes swirling in the current, and a strong wind blew through a moment later, whipping the waves up higher. The air turned dense and tingly with electricity.

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