The Mason List
Authors: S.D. Hendrickson
The
Mason
List
A
Novel By
S.D.
Hendrickson
The Mason
List Copyright © 2015 by Stacy Dawn Hendrickson (S.D. Hendrickson)
All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other
noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. The
names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s
imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
For more information visit
www.sdhendrickson.com
Cover Image Copyright ©Anna
Ismagilova and used under license from Shutterstock, Inc.
For
John,
My
own dark haired boy, who believed I could write a novel before I typed the
words.
Contents
Chapter 16
:
When I was fourteen
Chapter 24
:
When I was eighteen
Chapter 25
:
When I was eighteen
Chapter 27
:
When I was nineteen
Chapter 29
:
When I was nineteen
Chapter 30
:
When I was nineteen
Chapter 31
:
When I was nineteen
Chapter 35
:
When I was twenty-one
Chapter 37
:
When I was twenty-two
Chapter 38
:
When I was twenty-two
Chapter 39
:
When I was twenty-two
Chapter 41
:
When I was twenty-four
Chapter 42
:
When I was twenty-five
Chapter 44
:
When I was twenty-five
Chapter 45
:
When I was twenty-five
Chapter 46
:
When I was twenty-five
Chapter 47
:
When I was twenty-five
Chapter 48
:
When I was twenty-six
Chapter 49
:
When I was twenty-six
Chapter 50
:
Yesterday, 11:34 a.m.
Chapter 54
:
Nineteen days later
Chapter 1
Today,
8:15 p.m.
I see the
bloodstains around my nails. I scrub and scrub at the dark places. I scratch
until my skin turns red with fresh, oxygen-infused spurts from my own body.
Grabbing a paper towel, I wrap my fingers to hide the marks. A set of haunting
eyes stare back from the mirror with a jagged, swollen cut above the right
one.
I fight
the urge to drive a fist right into the reflection. I need to hear the crisp
smash of the glass. I need to feel the release if only for a moment before the
waves crash down again in my heart.
Leaving
the hospital bathroom, I walk down the hall hearing the soles of my shoes
squeak. A nurse stares as she passes by pushing an empty wheelchair. I know
what she is thinking. Her pudgy legs can’t walk fast enough back to the
station to tell the others.
I saw that girl.
The sneer of her
intruding smile makes me want to scream in her face.
Trailing
aimless past the rooms, I search for a vacant space away from the crowds. I
knew these halls very well. Better than I ever wanted to know them. On a lone
bench, I collapse far away from everyone else. I can’t stand to see any of
them. I am so incredibly tired of the stupid thoughts that should stay inside
their stupid brains.
I hurt.
I hurt so damn bad and nothing would make it better. Tucking my knees to my
chest, I curl into a tiny ball. I squeeze tight, feeling the bones crush into
my lungs. Tighter and tighter, feeling the pain. I can’t breathe. I try to
draw in a gasp of air, but nothing can escape through the pressure. The
endless, suffocating pressure.
This is
what it felt like for him as time ticked by in the distance. Struggling.
Gasping. My feet dangle from my legs, exposing my gray shoes covered in dried
blood, just like my hands. His blood. My blood. Her blood. Who the hell
even knows anymore. I yank them off and jump from the bench.
Throwing
the first one, I see the stain glass vibrate and the gray canvas fall to the
ground. I beat the second one over and over again, begging the multi-colored
panels to crack. Picking up the small potted plant, I toss it up, making
contact. A violent explosion sends shards in every direction. A sliver of
relief sparks the cells of my skin.
I
collapse onto the cold floor, feeling the cuts from the daggers of glass. I
let the tears fall down my cheeks as I choke on my own spit. The bile rises up
and vomit trickles down my neck into a pool around my head. The world spins
around much like a tilt-a-whirl. I feel nothing inside my cold, numb body.
“Is she
dead, Momma?” I hear the tiny voice of an angel.
“No,
baby.”
A soft
hand brushes the hair away from my forehead. I feel a towel dab at my cheek
and across the trail of stench seeping into the neck of my shirt. Opening my
eyes, I look into a face of a beauty queen. A smaller version with silky
blonde hair touches my hand.
“She’s
got blood on her clothes, Momma.”
I saw the
blood. It was everywhere. The body so still. The flesh covered in red, like
someone dumped a bucket of paint all over it; the skin hanging off in clumps.
I can’t
handle the images. So I fall…deeper and deeper. The world spins in perfect
rhythm beneath the halls of the hospital that transform into the sting of the
meadow sun. Turning and spinning as the girl screams. She screams and screams
echoing shrill and loud in my head.
“Alex,
stop…”
The
voices turn to whispers. The voices try to take me away. I fight. I scream.
I hit and I kick them away. The arms wrap over my body like a cage. The
screams turn to sobs. Every face blurs into a rain cloud of tears. The beauty
queen tells me it will be ok very soon. I feel a pinch in my arm.
The
lights blink on and off.
On and
off.
On and
off.
The
angel, with blue eyes, leans over close to my face. She is beautiful with a
halo of light behind her long, glossy hair. The wallpaper crackles and the
lights dim. Her blond hair turns to black. The face of the angel turns into
one so familiar. His blue eyes smile. He pushes the strands of dark hair off
his forehead, just like a hundred other times. The angel was the boy, or the
boy was the angel. It hurt to breathe. A voice whispers in the distance.
I need
to tell you something.
My throat
scratches on the words. I dry heave against the shoulder of the beauty queen.
The blue eyes fizzle into nothing. He was gone.
Wait.
Come back.
I beg his
sweet face. My lips taste heavy. I reach toward the wall. I reach to where
his face disappeared. My fingers grasp at nothing until the world grows black
from the ashes in the wind. I let the breeze take me away to a place that is
happy. A place that existed before my life dissolved into this pain.
Chapter 2
When
I was six…
Sitting
high in the tree, I watched the sky full of large, cotton candy-shaped clouds,
twisting and changing into the shapes of dragons and dinosaurs. My arm reached
out and grabbed a piece of the white fluff, seeing it dissolve into an
iridescent fairy dust in the palm of my small hand. I sprinkled it over my
entire body. The fairy magic transformed me into a red bird sitting on a
limb. I lifted my wings out into the wind, feeling it toss my crimson feathers
around against my skin.
"Alex
Tanner! You get down from that tree!" My mother yelled up to where I sat
perched on the branch. I opened my eyes to the blinding sun and scanned the
rooftops of the houses scattered below my dangling feet. My gaze stopped on my
mother, who was standing on the porch looking very unhappy. Her red hair
glowed against the garden backdrop. I would be in trouble again.
"Aw,
Momma, it's not that high,” I protested as my feet slipped a little on the
bark. I made my way down from the oak, careful not to rip my pink, fluffy
princess dress with sparkling jewels. I liked the jewels; they were the best
part. The jewels had to stay on there. With a dramatic jump to save my dress,
I landed with a solid thud on my butt in the flower garden.
We lived
in Dallas in Snow White’s cottage. I knew it wasn’t really her house, but it
was close to the one in my stories. We had a flower garden on the south side
of the house with lots of trees, surrounded by a white fence covered in green
ivy. My mother did not like it when I climbed high into the branches of the
trees. She said it was dangerous. I climbed up there anyway.
“Alex,
I’ve told you not to go up there. You have enough to do in the yard without
falling out of a tree.” My mother, Anna Tanner, glanced down with a stern look
that needed a little more anger to be convincing. I knew she couldn’t be mad
at me for long.
“I know
Momma, but it’s so cool seeing everything from up there. I can see the top of
our house. And guess what!” I could barely contain myself as I giggled up at
her. “I could see into Mr. Wilson’s yard. He was outside sweeping his porch
in just pink shorts and white socks.”
I saw the
disapproving shake of her red head. She tried to hide a laugh at the thought
of mean old Mr. Wilson in pink shorts. He really didn’t like us very much.
“Come on,
Alex. Let’s leave Mr. Wilson alone.” I followed on her heels up the path to
the porch. I heard a scramble and turned to see a furry blur coming from one
of the bushes. The brown streak went around my legs and came to a halt on the
porch steps. Slobber dripped off of a pink tongue surrounded by a face caked
in mud.
“Digger,
you got dirty,” I giggled as my arms went around his little body. Digger
slimed my face with mud and drool. He was a little, curly mutt picked from a
cage of other mutts at the dog pound two years ago. From the day we brought
him home, Digger never left my side.
If I was
outside, he was lurking under the bushes, pouncing on bugs, or chasing me
around the trees. Everyone who met Digger loved him. Well, everyone but Mr.
Wilson. One area of the fence had a hole just big enough for Digger to wiggle
into Mr. Wilson’s yard. He didn’t find it funny that Digger was named for his
worst habit; digging in roses.
“Put
Digger down. We have to clean you up. It’s time for your lessons.” Momma
didn’t like me spending the whole summer up in a tree like a monkey.
“Aw,
rats! Can we color please?” I begged, looking up at her tall frame with
pleading eyes. I wrapped my arms around her waist, leaving dirty hand prints
on the back of her white t-shirt. It wasn’t nice, but I knew one hug from me
and I could have her mind changed. My mother looked down at my freckled face
and I smiled back, exposing my missing front tooth. I knew that would seal the
deal.
“Ok,
Alex,” She signed, shaking her head. “You can color today, but you aren’t
getting out of practicing your letters tomorrow, deal?” I nodded with
excitement. My mother stuck out her hand to shake in agreement.
“Deal!” I
said, bouncing off into the house. “Come on Digger.” I scooped him up in my
arms as I went inside to wash off the mud. The rest of the afternoon, I
scattered drawings all across the wooden kitchen table. I had aliens in three
shades of green and purple spotted giraffes with two heads.
My mother
stopped by to check on my pictures. She rested a hand on each shoulder,
laughing at my colorful characters and agreed it was the scariest space
creature she’d ever seen. The afternoon faded into evening and I heard the
front door open. I took off in a sprint to find my father.
“Daddy!”
I jumped into his arms as he carried me to the living room couch.
“Ok,
Pumpkin, what do you have for me tonight? Another picture for my office?” He
smiled as we settled down on the couch. He had called me
Pumpkin
since
I was a baby because my hair was the color of an orange jack-o-lantern. As I
described my picture, he smiled in a way that made his face really happy. My
father, Henry Tanner, always liked my pictures.
I didn’t
understand what my father did at work every day. My mother said he made sure
grocery stores had all the items they needed, like broccoli. My eyes always
crinkled up in confusion at the details. Why would my father buy everyone
broccoli?
Sitting
me down, I watched my father grab my mother for a lingering hug then slip an
arm around her waist. He kissed her on the lips. I knew my father and mother
loved each other very much. He always looked at her the way the Prince did
when he danced with Snow White.
That
night, after two stories and a glass of milk, my father gave me a big kiss
right on the top of my head. “Good night, Pumpkin.”
“Night, Daddy.”
Turning
off the light, my mother whispered next to my cheek, “I love you, Alex, more
than all the leaves on the trees.”
“Love you
too, Momma,” I said over a muffled a yawn.
With the
sheets pulled up tight, little Digger jumped on the bed to get settled in for
the night. The little brown ball of fur stretched out at the foot of my bed,
covering the tips of my toes. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of flying
horses.
