Playing His Own Games | ✔︎

chapter thirty | broken beyond repair

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"I just want a day where it feels like I'm not falling apart anymore."
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Mason

PRESSING THE ICEPACK against my smarting cheek, my head turns as Carrie enters the kitchen, anxiously biting her lip.

"Are you okay?" she asks, tentatively reaching for my face.

"I'm fine," I reply curtly, before motioning towards the doorway. "We should head back to everyone."

"I'm sorry," Carrie blurts out, sincere guilt and anguish rippling across her face. "Kane told my parents we were dating and then they said we had to come here. I tried to stop—"

"Seriously, Carrie, it's alright," I say with a light smile. I'm not in the mood for an argument, especially after all the nights and days I've spent listening to my father and Michael tossing threats and insults at each other. "To be honest, I'm just surprised he hit me in front of you all."

"My parents might say something—" Carrie begins, however even I can see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Moving towards the living room, I shake my head. "He'll convince them. One way or another, he will. He always wins."

"Don't say that. You have to be confident, Mase. Believe in yourself. It will be okay, I promise," she reassures me calmly. The problem is, all the words coming out from her mouth is bullshit; a fantasy I can only dream of.

"Easy for you to say," I snap, firing a glare in her direction. "You've never been in a situation when your life is on the line."

"Oh, really?" Her eyebrow arches. "What about when Kane dragged me into a dark street that one time."

"Your father, your own flesh and blood, has never beaten you to within an inch of your life!" I'm angry. Angry that she, in some way, betrayed me. Angry that she of all people doesn't understand. Angry at myself for being angry at her.

Angry at this stupid fucking hell I was born into.

"We live different lives, Mason! I have my problems and you have yours!"

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't about you! I'm not comparing you to me, I'm just saying that you can say that everything will be fine and everything will work out, but that doesn't necessarily make it reality!" My voice has risen to a yell.

"Well I'm sorry I'm trying to support you!" Carrie shouts back, rage and hurt flashing in her eyes.

"Oh, shut up," I snarl.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that."

I ignore her and spin on my heel, tossing the ice pack over my shoulder and onto the countertop.

We both enter the living room in a strained silence. Before my foot has even crossed the threshold, my dad appears in front of me.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, son." He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a suffocating embrace. The hug seems more threatening than comforting. "Are you okay?"

"All good." I force a smile, which comes easily from seventeen years of perfection.

"It'll never happen again," he assures me, blue eyes glassy with fake tears. "It's been such a stressful week and I just...lost control. I know that's no excuse for what I did but I beg you to forgive me. Please?"