Текст книги "Run"

Автор книги: Holly Hood

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

JULY 26

TH

I HAD BEEN WAITING my entire life for the moment that was now before me. She was nothing like the way Aunt Wanda had made her out to be.

Or that I remembered.

She was nice enough to let Mason and me stay at her house. My old house. She told me to get rest and we could catch up in the morning.

Well, it was now morning and I was standing in her bathroom riddled with anxiety. I had played this moment over and over in my head. The moment I got to confront her for how my life had turned out because of her one mistake.

And now it was here.

I secured my hair in a ponytail and stared at my face in the mirror. I looked acceptable for the amount of stress I’d had the past week or so.

Mason was still asleep. I expected him to sleep for quite some time after the drinking binge he’d been on.

The house was quiet except for the old grandfather clock ticking away in the corner of the dining room.

Sunlight warmed the house as it poured in through the windows at the front of the house.

I looked around at the rich colors that decorated the walls and furniture. It was nice and cozy. It was a home.

“I can’t believe I’m here. Everything looks so…” I stopped talking when I laid eyes on my mother.

She was sitting at the dining room table, a big white coffee mug on one side of her. She was rifling through a box of pictures.

She furrowed her eyebrows, her expression was serious. She set pictures down in separate piles one after another, working hard at the task at hand.

“I wanted you to see these,” she said as I took a seat at the table next to her. She passed a picture to me. I stared at the ring on her finger.

“Your ring is beautiful,” I said, admiring the large diamond.

She pulled her hand back, touching the stone. Sadness rather than happiness filled her face.

“Kendall, I really want you to look at these pictures with me. This is very important,” she said, obviously not wanting to talk about anything else.

I nodded. I was a bit confused as I looked at the first picture. It was me. “What is this?”

I was sitting at a table surrounded by a dozen people I didn’t recognize, except for Mason—he was there, too.

Everyone, including me, was smiling and looked so happy. I was especially baffled at the smile on my face. I don’t remember ever smiling like that.

I watched her as she wiped at the tears silently falling from her eyes. I didn’t know what she wanted me to say.

“That was your fifth birthday. Do you remember that party?” She pointed at the picture, silently holding out hope that I’d remember the good times.

I studied the photo closely. Aunt Wanda was in the background, a scowl on her face and a cigarette between her skinny fingers. She was definitely the darkness that shadowed that party.

“I don’t remember this,” I said, returning the picture to the pile. I didn’t want to look at Aunt Wanda.

She dug through the box again, looking for a specific picture. When she found just the right one, she handed it to me.

“What about this?”

There I was again, on a rocking horse. A Christmas tree stood tall in the background. Momma sat on the floor in red flannel pajamas, her hair swept up in a loose bun. She had the biggest smile on her face as she watched me. She was happy.

I scanned the photo, identifying my uncles and, again, Aunt Wanda. She was leaning against the wall a vacant stare on her face, her arm crossed, her sights set on my mother. And, of course, her trademark cigarette.

I looked at my mom. She wiped her eyes, letting out an uneasy laugh. I could see the pain in her eyes. It hurt her to know I didn’t remember any of these things. I could tell she had held out hope that I would remember.

Her face was so young. She didn’t look worn and damaged like Wanda. If my mom was supposed to have been such a bad person, I’d think it would have shown all over her face, just like Wanda.

“I don’t remember this,” I said, handing the picture back to her.

“What do you remember when you were here with me?” she asked.

“I remember the night I left. There were sounds coming from your bedroom. I was young, but I knew it wasn’t something I needed to see.” I looked away. “And then Aunt Wanda came barreling in the door threatening to burn the house down.”

“She was always so angry with me. Sometimes I didn’t blame her. But she was always so angry,” she said, thinking back on her older sister.

I nodded in agreement. Aunt Wanda was full of anger—unspeakable rage. And I never knew why.

“Kendall, did you think she would?” Her face softened. Had this been the moment I had been waiting for?

“I was a kid. She’d put the fear of God in me and I believed her. You were always crying and I didn’t want her to hurt anyone, so I went with her.” My mind rushed back to that night so many years ago. Twelve years was a long time to be away from my mom. I didn’t even remember her and I didn’t know if my memories were my own or if they’d been made up by Aunt Wanda.

I remembered the sound of that door screeching open and Aunt Wanda’s footsteps stomping down to my mother’s bedroom. She banged on her bedroom door. She went ballistic when my mom wouldn’t come out. I didn’t blame her—I wouldn’t have either. Aunt Wanda showed up a couple times a week. How was she to know this time would be different?

Aunt Wanda was always so jealous of my mother. Her jealousy was worse when she was drunk. That night she was going to teach Joy-Ann a lesson by burning down the house. I was only seven, but I knew what could happen and people could get hurt or die. I didn’t want that to happen.

So I climbed out of my bed and tugged on Aunt Wanda’s arm. I begged her to take me with her.

After a few minutes, she backed down from her threats. She looked me over, possibly weighing her options, and the next thing I knew she was yelling at me to pack my things so we could go. So we left. My mom would be safe and I was on the road to New Mexico with Aunt Wanda.

I never imagined the life ahead. And I never thought it would be twelve years before I’d return to my former life.

Momma got up and went to the big picture window. “Go ahead, Kendall. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling. You’re not going to hurt my feelings,” she told me.

“Why didn’t you come out of the bedroom that night? Didn’t you hear her?” I asked quickly. It was the one thing I’d wanted to know for years.

“I was sure it was like every time before. I thought she was there to complain about something that didn’t go her way. You know, with a man or with something she was plotting. Wanda was always in trouble with someone.” Momma sighed.

“She hated you so much,” I told her.

She shook her head and sat back down. “She hated me so much she took my kid away for twelve years. Now that’s hate. I was young. I thought that man in my bedroom that night loved me and you.”

I pursed my lips. “Did he?” I couldn’t even remember who the man was.

“Of course not. I was the girl who got knocked up by Leon. I was the laughing stock of Gusby. He left that night and never came back.” She frowned and dropped her chin toward her chest in shame.

I thought how she was probably always sad because she was alone with no one to love her. She was alone with a child.

“Why didn’t you do anything when you discovered your daughter was missing?” I didn’t want to be mean and upset her more than she already was, but I needed answers.

Her eyes filled with concern. She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “I called the sheriff. I told him that Wanda was the last one at the house that night. They knew our family. They chalked it up to a typical sisterly spat and told me if it was Wanda she would bring you back home,” she explained.

She pulled something from the box of photographs—a worn-out paper. It was more than a piece of paper. It was proof that my mom had tried to get me back. She tried to get help in finding me.

Scrawled across the top in sloppy handwriting were the words ‘Domestic Complaint.’ It didn’t say kidnapped or missing person. They had classified my disappearance as a family dispute. My entire life had been turned upside-down because nobody wanted to help my mother.

“Our family was always in trouble with the law. We weren’t good people. And then with the situation with Leon they just didn’t care or have the means to fund a search for a poor girl from Gusby. Kendall, I’m so, so sorry,” she said, crying all over again.

We talked all the way into the evening. She wanted to know everything. All the things I’d been through. She wanted every detail.

I told her about our travels. I made up stories of all the different places I saw. I concocted half-truths about many of the things I told her—I didn’t want her to know how bad it really was. I told her I was even happy at times and how I’d missed her. And went so far as to say it wasn’t as bad as it really was.

I couldn’t break her heart all over again. I could see she’d had her heart broken a long time ago and I thought she had suffered enough.

She wasn’t the awful person Aunt Wanda had brainwashed me to believe she was.

It made sense to me now why Aunt Wanda didn’t want me to go home. She didn’t want me to go home because the truth was waiting. My mom may have been young and irresponsible, but she loved me and cared about me. She didn’t think of me as a mistake. She’d wanted me when Leon didn’t. She was far from perfect but she was my mother.

“I want to help you out. And I want you to know you and Mason are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. We can go first thing in the morning to try and get this straightened out if you want to. I don’t want you two to have to worry about what Wanda and Payton did. You guys are kids. You shouldn’t have to suffer for their sins,” she said.

We both stood up from the table, our bodies aching and weary from the long reunion.

“I think that’s a good idea, but what about Mason? I’m worried about him,” I said for the hundredth time.

Momma bit down on her lip. She touched my arm to reassure me that everything would be fine. She knew she couldn’t promise, but she was going to try. I knew I hadn’t told her the whole truth and I was still scared.

“Mason is a good boy. And he loves you. And I can tell you love him. We’ll all figure this out together. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow will be here before we know it,” she said.

I crawled into bed with Mason. He was sound asleep. I wrapped my arm around him and smiled at the feel of his warm skin against mine. It was so comforting.

“I think we’re going to be okay, Mason,” I whispered in his ear.

He didn’t respond, of course. I kissed his forehead and drifted off to sleep.

JULY 27

TH

DIXIE SQUEALED WITH JOY as Mason threw a ball around with her. She ran back and forth across the yard after each throw, squealing every time Mason pretended she beat him to it.

I couldn’t stop smiling as we all goofed around in the backyard. Mason was happier as well.

“Hey, Dixie, see if you can catch this,” Mason said.

She clapped her hands happily and her pigtails whipped wildly behind her as she ran. She was the cutest little girl I’d ever seen. I had never met such a character, and she was my sister. Mom had done a good job with her. She was smart and full of life.

“So after all these years you find out Joy-Ann was a good mother after all,” Mason said. He stepped back and lobbed the ball in Dixie’s direction.

“She cared. I know she wasn’t perfect, but it’s nice to know she did care,” I said, plucking a dandelion from the ground.

Mason nodded, watching Dixie take a tumble as she chased after the runaway ball.

“I am happy for you Ken-doll,” he said, emphasizing my name in a weird way like old times.

“What for, Mason?” I said. I pulled at the leaves of the dandelion.

“You weren’t disappointed. And from what I remember about your mom, she wasn’t that bad. She always snuck me candy. I think the only thing she was guilty of was not keeping her legs together,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, trying to remember anything at all other than screaming matches between her and Wanda.

“It’s good, Kendall. It’s really good,” Mason said. He jumped, catching the ball Dixie threw at him.

“What about your grandparents. Don’t you want to see them?” I asked. Mason had very few relatives. And he didn’t seem interested to see them.

Mason made a face. “Shit, Kendall. It’s not a happy reunion when you come back worse than when you left. I don’t want to burden anyone,” he said, brushing the subject off.

I decided not to say anything else. It was obvious he didn’t want to discuss it.

“What happens now?” I asked.

Mason clutched the ball tightly. Dixie ran toward us to get it. He shot me a look right before she tackled him.

“Come on, Mason!” she squealed. “Momma said I can’t spit on you anymore.”

“She’s a smart lady then,” he said, lifting the ball high above his head, teasing her some more.

“Just when I was starting to think you were a good guy,” she said, crossing her arms.

Mason laughed, dropping the ball. “You really think I’m a good guy, Dixie?”

“Yes. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you look like an angel. You have eyes like them. And their skin,” she told him. She rubbed at her nose.

Mason was confused. So was I.

“What angels have you ever seen that are half Puerto Rican?” he asked.

Dixie tilted her head to the side, confused. She stared at him, trying to understand what he said.

“What’s Pertoe Reecan?” she asked, the words coming out foreign and mispronounced.

“Basically Mexican,” I said in simpler terms for her to understand. She nodded in understanding.

“I saw a picture at the grocery store. It said angels. And there was this picture that looked like Mason,” she said nonchalantly and then she took off after the ball.

Mason looked away, trying to make sense of what Dixie said.

“Who knows? She’s five. I’m sure any Mexican with light eyes reminds her of you.” I laughed.

But Mason wasn’t amused.

My mom hollered for us to get moving before the bank closed for lunch.

We sat in front of the bank in her car. She’d kept her promise to give us some money to help us out since we were broke.

She applied some lip gloss as she looked in the rearview mirror before she climbed out of the car.

“I need to run into the grocery store and pick up a few things for dinner. Do you guys want to come?” Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she looked into the car at Mason and me.

I started to undo my seat belt, but Mason grabbed my arm stopping me. I raised an eyebrow confused.

“We’ll just stay here,” he said nonchalantly. My mom nodded helping Dixie out of the back seat and they were gone.

I twisted around to get a good look at Mason. I hoped it wasn’t something silly like getting frisky in the back seat.

“I wanted to check something out. Just humor me. It won’t take long,” he promised, getting out of the car.

I followed him past the grocery store, trying to figure out what we were doing. Mason took my hand. He was acting a little strange.

I stared at the bank’s doors. “Mason, why are we at the bank without my mom?”

He opened the door, holding tight to my hand. The bell chimed overhead sending everyone’s eyes in our direction.

“Kendall, you talk too much…shush,” he said.

“When I’m not getting answers, I do,” I snapped.

Can I help you, sir?” The bank teller asked as Mason tugged me through the line, cutting to the front.

I apologized to the woman behind us for his rudeness. I wasn’t sure what had come over him.

“My name is Mason Vaughn and this is a robbery,” he said as cool as a cucumber.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

The teller acted confused. Most bank robbers wore masks to remain anonymous.

“Mason,” I said, trying to maintain my composure. I tried to wriggle free from his grip on my hand. He wouldn’t let my hand go.

“Sir…” the man started. He blinked quickly, growing nervous once neither of us cracked a smile.

One man behind us tried going out the door. Mason spun on his heel. “No one moves!”

The man stopped in his tracks and held up his hands in surprise.

“Does this guy even have a gun?” someone asked.

I swallowed, hoping he didn’t. I looked at Mason.

“Of course. What kind of idiot robs a bank without a gun?” He proceeded to pull a gun from the waist of his pants. “Now everyone have a seat!”

One woman with a baby burst into tears as she dropped to the floor with her squirming baby.

“Is this your plan?” I asked angrily.

Everyone kept their eyes glued to Mason’s every move.

“Shut up, Kendall,” Mason ground out.

My mom appeared at the window. It didn’t take her long to figure out what was going on. She looked frightened when she saw Mason was holding a gun. She threw open the bank’s door and barged in.

“Mason!” she yelled in disbelief. No one expected Mason to do this.

I didn’t know what the point was.

Dixie stayed behind my mom’s legs, peeking her little face out.

“Joy-Ann, I swear to you I’m not going to hurt her. Just take Dixie and go home.”

“I thought you were an angel, Mason?” Dixie said softly.

“No, I’m sorry, Dixie, that’s not me,” Mason said.

My mom looked at me, unsure if she should listen to him. She had just gotten me back. “Kendall, what should I do?”

“Just do what he says. I’ll be okay. Mason wouldn’t hurt me. And please don’t call the police,” I begged her. She nodded and left quickly. For some strange reason, she trusted me.

I knew she didn’t want to go, but there was nothing she could do.

The bank teller cleared his throat. “Sir, if you could please rethink what you’re about to do.”

Mason ignored him. “Everyone up against the wall.” He locked the door and took all the keys, quickly barricading everyone inside in a matter of minutes.

“It would be in everyone’s best interest to be quiet,” he said. He was calm, calmer than I’ve ever seen him before.

“Mason, this is nuts,” I whispered. “What do you think this is helping?”

“Kendall, stop talking and sit down,” he ordered, ignoring me now.

Mason motioned the female bank teller over.

“Miss, do me a favor,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said near tears. Her face was pale.

“Are you a good liar?”

She hesitated, shoving hair out of her eyes and shook her head yes.

“Good. I want you to pick up the phone and call the police department. Tell them you’re being held up by some crazed lunatic. Tell them there are about fifteen hostages. Make it good because Gusby doesn’t always do their job,” Mason told her. He sat down on the floor beside me.

I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you! Why would you do this, Mason?” I started to cry.

Mason threw his arm around me. “Kendall, calm down. I’m doing this for you,” he said, kissing my cheek. He wiped my tears, not concerned at all that everyone was looking at us.

“How could any of this be for me?” I sobbed. I was sure he’d lost his mind.

I waited for him to say something, but before he could, the blaring sirens filled the air and police cars pulled up one after another outside the bank. Doors flew open and guns were drawn.

I felt my freedom slipping away from me. Mason stood up, then took my hand and helped me up.

“Kendall, I love you,” he whispered in my ear. He got behind me and wrapped an arm around my neck, using my body like a shield. His body pressed tightly against mine.

“Mason, please don’t do this,” I begged. “I don’t want to be killed.” Panic was taking over and I pulled at his arm, desperately trying to get free.

I didn’t want to be shot. I didn’t want to die this way.

I wanted to go back to my Mom’s. I was hoping we had a way out of troubles. I was confident that things were looking up for once. I didn’t understand why Mason didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t understand why we were now involved in a standoff with the Gusby police force.

We’d been home for days and no one had spoken a word of our predicament. No one knew.

“Sir, they want to talk to you,” the bank teller said, extending the phone to Mason.

He moved us backwards and took the phone. “Yes. My name is Mason Vaughn…you’re correct,” he said.

The room was eerily silent as Mason spoke to the officer on the other end as he sealed his fate. “I am willing to let some of them go…yes, sir.”

He pointed at the woman and the baby. She quickly scrambled to her feet. She ran to the door and fought with the lock trying to open the door. Once she got it open, she quickly raced out of the bank. She was sobbing as soon as her feet hit the sidewalk.

“All right now. I’m hanging up. Anything else you want to say, you’re going to have to holler,” Mason said. He tossed the phone over the counter and focused on the windows.

“All the women…you’re free to go,” he announced.

That brought the hostage count down to five men. I couldn’t believe this was happening. There was nothing I could do or say to stop him. I still wasn’t afraid that he’d hurt me. I was more afraid that he’d hurt himself.

One of the cops appeared at the door. He showed his hands so Mason knew he meant no harm.

“Now, Mason, what is it you want? If you can help us help these people we might be able to help you out.” He kept his eyes trained on Mason.

I looked past him to the guns, all of them fixed on us. I knew if I made one wrong move, I could be shot.

“My name is Mason Vaughn. I’m not sure if you’re aware of who I am, but I’m sure if you look it up you’ll see I am wanted in just about every state,” Mason confessed.

I closed my eyes, devastated at his confession.

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do remember you. I remember when you were little. I know your grandparents. We were just talking about you last week at church,” the officer insisted.

Mason’s breathing sped up, he squeezed me tighter. This upset him. I didn’t have to look at him to know this.

“Just look it up!” he yelled at the officer. He wasn’t in the mood for heartwarming stories about his family.

“My name is Mark,” the officer said. He used his walkie-talkie to share the information Mason had given him. He wanted someone else to look up the information so he could keep his eye on Mason.

“Well, Mark, I want you to know this is Kendall,” he explained, gripping my shoulder as he introduced me to the law.

I cringed, digging my nails into his arm.

Mark nodded, his eyes taking only a second to glimpse into mine before returning his focus on Mason.

“I remember both of you,” Mark said.

“None of that matters,” Mason said. “Kendall is a hostage, right?”

Mark knew he just needed to listen to what Mason had to say.

“She doesn’t want to be here. She has nothing to do with any of this. She’s been with me for quite some time now—always against her will,” Mason revealed. It was rehearsed, probably something he’d planned for days.

“Okay. That makes perfect sense to me, Mason. What can I do to help?” Mark asked him.

Mason pressed his face against my cheek and pulled me even tighter to him. He was trying to hug me. His heart was pounding like a drum against my back.

“There is nothing you can do for me. I just want you to help her,” Mason told Mark.

“To do that, Mason, you would have to let Kendall go. Does that sound like something you’re willing to do?” Mark caught my attention for a brief second. I wasn’t sure if he was confused by my calm behavior.

Mason’s body began to shake. He was crying, I was sure of it. And I wanted to hug him so badly. I wanted to turn around and tell him we were going to be okay. That we could get through this. We always got through everything.

“I’m willing to do that. I’ve never been more willing to do anything in my entire life,” he said. He squeezed me tightly.

I squeezed his arm, entrusting the feel of his skin against mine to my memory.

I just wanted to remember what he felt like if it was years before we saw each other again. I didn’t know what was to come.

“Mason, I love you,” I said over and over again. He slowly let me go, the warmth and feel of him disappeared and now I stood there alone. I turned around and looked into his eyes. His eyes glistened with tears that streamed down his handsome face.

He smiled at me, taking in short, shaky breaths, trying to keep himself in check as he fell apart right in front of me.

I grabbed ahold of his face and kissed him. I didn’t care what anyone thought.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this. And I hate you for it.” I wiped at his tears, pressing my forehead against his.

He cupped the back of my head, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m not leaving you. I will be right outside. Okay?” I clutched the back of his neck, keeping him close. I didn’t want to let him go. I was afraid to let him go.

“I know why I am doing this.” He kissed my forehead, stroking my hair. I started to cry. “Because you deserve it, because I love you. Because I’d never know what to do without you, and I’d rather never find out.” He kissed me again.

I touched his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. He was frightened, deep down I could see the fear. No matter how brave he wanted to look, I knew he was afraid.

“Kendall, please go back to Joy-Ann. Don’t hang around,” he told me.

I shook my head no.

“Remember what I said, Mason?” I knew he did. We talked about it every time we saw each other, every new beginning, every new adventure throughout the years. “We can get through anything. And I’ll never let you down. I’m not going to break that promise. It’s me and you…like always.”

Mason shook his head, pulling away from me. He pushed me toward the door, no longer caught up in the emotions.

“Kendall, get out of here!” he yelled at me.

I winced at his angry tone, but walked through the door.

“I’m not leaving,” I shouted back.

An officer grabbed me as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk and took me behind a car.

“I’m not leaving,” I told him.

“Just stay where you are then,” the officer grumbled, going back to the job at hand.

“He’s not a bad guy,” I told him.

But it only fell on deaf ears.

I watched Mason as he stood completely still, listening to Mark. He was beyond distraught—it was written all over his face. I tried to remain calm as I watched them try to convince him to give up.

Nothing else mattered as I watched Mason. I pleaded to the heavens that Mason made it out of that bank and into the cop car. I never wanted something so bad in my life. I could have never imagined that the best thing to happen to Mason would be for him to be arrested. But, right now, I believed it was.

We soon became the talk of the town. People from all over Gusby gathered in front of every store and house as far as the eye could see to see.

I didn’t want Mason to be that guy—another Leon of Gusby. I didn’t want him to be classified as some low life—the guy who’d be talked about for years to come. He was so much more than any of them would ever know.

He was everything to me. He was my heart.

Mark moved closer to the doors and everything fell quiet. The atmosphere grew tense as the officers watched Mark try a new approach.

“I think this is one nut about to crack,” one young cop said to his buddy.

The other one chuckled. “This beats waiting around for the regular drunk calls over at The Shed.”

I held my breath, watching Mason hold onto his gun for dear life. Mark inched closer and closer to Mason. He was still except for his eyes darting around nervously as Mark got closer to him. I looked at his arm—the one that always held me at night while I slept.

“Come on, buddy, don’t do anything stupid,” the officer next to me said, steadying his aim.

“Or maybe he should. This is the most action I’ve seen my whole career,” the other guy said. He didn’t care that I was only feet away.

Please, Mason, don’t move, I begged.

I held my breath. I felt so numb and so out of control.

“Kendall,” Mom yelled from somewhere behind me in the crowd.

I spun on my heels in slow motion as if in a dream. My hair sailed along in the air, whipping against my face with the sudden turn.

I found her in the crowd. She was jumping up and down to see over the people gathered there.

The sound of gunshots filled the air. Everyone dropped to the ground in an instant. My own body slammed against the asphalt. All I could see was black as the side of my face hugged the pavement.

I screamed as more shots went off above my head. I plugged my ears with my fingers to block out the sound.

I wasn’t sure how long I was on the ground. I just knew my mom was next to me yelling at the police, telling them I was her daughter. She frantically patted my body, checking for any gunshot wounds.

“I’m okay. Where’s Mason?” I asked, grabbing her by the arm. She pulled me to my feet. I couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening around me. I wondered why the police were no longer there standing behind their car doors.

Mom pulled me toward the street.

I fought back, digging in my heels to stop her from making me leave.

“Kendall, honey, he’s been shot. Let’s go back to the house. We can call the hospital to check on him,” she pleaded with me. Somehow my feet started moving.

I heard the words. That Mason had been shot, but it didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand.

Why would anyone want to shoot Mason?

“I need to see him,” I screamed, suddenly frantic and afraid her words were real. I got free from her grip and ran back to the bank. I passed the ambulance and paramedics as they ran toward the bank with medical equipment.

I got past the cops and made it to the window before anyone could stop me.

I slammed into the glass, my palms pressed against it as I peered in.

“Those are his feet,” I cried out. I couldn’t see his face. But I knew those were his shoes.

One of the paramedics shifted just enough that I could see his face.

I screamed, banging on the glass.

I shouted Mason’s name, begging him to get up. I was inside before I could be stopped. I needed to see him.

“Mason!” I dropped to my knees beside him. He was bloody and still.

“Is he okay?” I asked the paramedic. Her expression was grim.

“Kendall, we have to go,” my mom said. She had been allowed to go inside to get me. “We can go to the hospital and wait there. They want you to talk to an officer; he will meet us at the hospital.”

My mom steered me through the crowd of bystanders. I didn’t fight—I had no fight left in me—and I got into her car. I just wanted to know what was happening to Mason and that he was going to be okay.