Sixty-nine

"Ibelieveyou," My tongue feels strange in my mouth so the words come out as one slurred word. Mason lets out a sigh of relief and grips my chin again to keep me steady while he begins to push the needle through my face.

" Since that is sorted, we need to figure out what are we going to do about my father and your brother banding together," Oh, yes. That little pickle. Because I can't speak, I shrug or at least I try to, my shoulders feel heavy, and I'm not sure if the command was executed.

I raise my hand, to pry his away but it takes a few tries before I can grab it. His form keeps distorting and blurring in front of my eyes, and all I grab is air. I hate losing my grasp on my senses. I feel more helpless than ever. But I realise that I trust Mason more than anyone I know. I know he won't take advantage of the fact that I'm drunk and vulnerable, and he will keep me safe for as long as he can.

" Th-th-th....the...," I'm stuttering, and trying to have a conversation of this magnitude at this point is completely pointless, but if anything, I'm determined, " The," Slow and steady wins the race. I sound retarded but as long as I get out what I want to say it doesn't matter," B-b-b-la-ah-d," Eventually, it comes out. Mason chuckles and grips my chin again.

" Maybe we should have this conversation once the Unicum is out of your system, " He hums softly and pokes me with the damn needle before I even try to speak again.

At least I know what that is, and from now on I can avoid it. Being brain dead, even if it is temporary is not something I can afford.

Slowly but surely, I begin to space out, happily drifting on the toxic fumes of alcohol while Mason picks up his pace once he is sure that I don't feel anything. And I don't. That Unicum is better than any other analgesic I've ever taken in my very short life.

By the time he is done, I'm almost comatose. I slip off the chair, straight into his arm and from there is nothing but blissful darkness.

The sound of clatter pierces through the haze accompanied by a sharp pang of pain that I feel from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. A rush of panic surges through me, as I rise from the bed ignoring the vehement protests of my body.

As expected everything aches including the hair on my head. Something I didn't think was possible but here we are.

" Mase," I call, as I look around and try to discern through the fog in my vision where have I ended up this time.

Sand-coloured stone comes into view as the fog slowly disperses from my vision.

" Welcome back to the living," Mason says, and it sounds like he is shouting from the top of his lungs. I've never heard Mason shout so I use my imagination to fill in the blanks.

" It sucks," I say, as I drop back on the bed while he appears in front of me holding a glass of cloudy liquid.

" After the last drink you've offered me, whatever that is, can go straight to hell," I croak, just as he lowers himself on the edge of the bed and pulls me up to sit.

He wiggles the glass in front of me, and smiles charmingly, trying to butter me up to drink, what I assume is something that I will dry heave the moment I swallow it down.

" It will make you feel better in two seconds flat," He cajoles as he pushes the drink under my nose and I get a whiff of it. It stinks like fermented fish, and that is enough to make me gag.

Pushing away his hand, I glare at him," It doesn't smell fit for human consumption, " I say trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

Laughing, he places it on the bedside table, and sighs, " How about some coffee and some food? I stocked up this place last time I was here when Shay was still feeling benevolent. It's a nice place to retreat when things go sideways," He pushes himself off the bed and walks five steps onto the other side of the room. It would be an insult to the word kitchen to call two cupboards and a sink, a kitchen.

After a bit of fumbling around the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose, making my mouth water. Now you are talking my language.

I glare at the glass on the side table and repress the urge to fling it out of the window. The fermented scent mingling with coffee kind kills the moment but I brush it away as Mason approaches the bed holding two cups of coffee.

He hands me the cup, settles back on the bed and stares at the wound on my face.

" So," He sighs," Who was it?" He asks, and takes a sip of his coffee but his eyes stay on mine as I scramble to give him an answer that will not require for me to lie.

" It doesn't matter," I deflect and look around the room. It doesn't look much different than the last time I was in here but it feels different this time around. Or maybe it's me who is different, hard to tell.

Mason nodding brings my attention back to him and I find it strange that he doesn't push, or ask more questions about who the culprit is.

" You know what I think," I really don't want to hear his theory, because I won't be able to deny it if he guesses, and I have nowhere to hide.

" I think it was someone that you cared for. No one else would have made it close enough to cut this deep," He points at my face and I take the coward's way out and avoid saying anything.

" So I've narrowed it down to a few people that I know for a fact you trust blindly," He takes another sip of his coffee and I do the same.

" Laira," He begins listing the names, his eyes searching my expressions keenly," David," He will figure it out, but I don't want to be the one to say it. Enid raised him, provided for him, cared for him and I have no right to speak ill of the person that he upholds to a standard no one will ever meet.

" Marie. No," He picks up the pace, having established a baseline," Enid," He says her name fearfully, and his eye twitches when my expression changes.